Game of Thrones Season 7

by cbstevp

A look at what Season 7 of Game of Thrones might look like, picking up where events ended at the end of Season 6.

7. Chapter 7

Game of Thrones Season 7 Chapter 7

King's Landing – Jaime

"What word from Highgarden?" Lord Tarly asked as Jaime entered his lord's prison. It was not a cell, but a small room in a high tower, with a soft bed, a table and chair, a candle and a small barred window for light, and a porcelain chamber pot. On the table were the remains of his supper on a tray, with a clay jug of wine nearby. It was night and Tarly was sitting in the chair, sipping a cup of wine. His left arm was still heavily bandaged though no longer in a sling. Tarly had not said much in the few times Jaime had visited him. Even in captivity he was still a stern warrior, stoic to the end, hiding his grief for a lost son and a lost battle, giving his gaolers withering glares, and refusing to engage in any idle small talk with his captors unless necessary.

"Silence is all we have received from Highgarden," Jaime said. "It seems Lady Olenna believes things have gone too far for any negotiations."

Tarly grunted. "As I warned you. Is there at least word from my family?"

"Yes. Your castellan has written that your wife and daughter are in Oldtown and he has passed on word of events here and awaits their answer to the ransom demand."

"Oldtown," Tarly said with evident disgust. "To see my other son, no doubt."

"Sam, was it not? The boy who joined the Night's Watch…or was forced to join from what I heard."

"If he had been your son you would have done the same."

"I have no sons."

"So you say, but the whole realm knows the truth. Why continue to lie when all are dead?"

Jaime ignored the accusation, despite it being true. "It is time to go, my lord."

"Where? The black cells? Or is it the hangman's rope for me?"

"Where will soon be clear. Now do I have to have my guards tie your hands and put a sack over your head and throw you in the back of a wagon, or will you behave and not try to escape if I put you on a horse?"

"I won't try to escape. On my honor. At least I still have some."

Another thinly veiled insult which Jaime chose to ignore. Down the tower steps they went, with four guards as well, and at the bottom the horses were waiting. Jaime still had Tarly's famed sword, strapped to his saddle. They climbed on and rode from the Red Keep with an escort of twenty men, all Lannister men. It was time to leave this cesspool, and Jaime did not want to leave his prized prisoner behind.

It was late, and dark, with no moon, and clouds in the sky and even a hint of rain or snow in the air. The city never slept, not really, but most were abed, and the rest were either drinking in the pubs or wine sinks, or were manning the walls looking out, not in. Two days he had to plan their escape, and most of the details were only worked out in the few last hours before the sun had set.

All would go disguised as soldiers, Cersei included. She protested at first, but he knew if anyone saw her leaving the city there would be a riot or worse. Now she was already gone, out the King's Gate on horseback dressed in ill-fitting Lannister armor, with Qyburn and six of her Queensguards men dressed in similar armor, and another hundred men as escorts. The seventh Queensguards man was Ser Gregor, too big for Lannister armor, so he wore his old dull black plate, the same armor he wore when he fought Oberyn Martell. The rents in it had still not been repaired, as no one had ever expected him to wear it again. Clegane could not be with Cersei, Jaime insisted, for his bulk would be noticed by anyone and might give the game away. Now he rode with Jaime's group and Tarly noticed him in the darkness.

"Your demon going to cut my head off on the old tourney grounds, is he?" he asked.

"You are not going to die, my lord," Jaime told him. "At least not tonight."

Down the street from Aegon's Hill and the Red Keep they rode, past the Mud Gate and on to the King's Gate, the one closest to the Blackwater and the road west. Along the valley of the Blackwater they would ride, on the Goldroad towards the west and then across the hills towards Casterly Rock and home.

They got through the King's Gate with no problem, the gold cloaks opening it at Jaime's command. He felt a small twinge of guilt, leaving these men behind, but he also knew once they realized the Queen had left the city would surrender to the first army that came near. Jaime felt a small solace that once again he was saving their worthless lives. He knew Cersei was right, the people for the most part hated them and would have torn them to pieces at the first opportunity, but not all were so blood thirsty.

They found Cersei's group on a high hill about a mile to the west of the tourney grounds, where once Ned Stark's tourney was held when he had been named Hand of the King and where the army often drilled as well. It all went back to that time, Jaime remembered as they rode across the flat plain, all the troubles, starting with Jon Arryn's death and that damn trip to Winterfell. If only he had been able to keep his hands off Cersei…if only so many things.

Now he was in her bed again, and his will had broken, going back on the promise he had made to himself. He could never resist her, in all the years they had been together. Often she had been cold to him, and for long stretches they had not been together, but always when she was ready for him again he willing came to her. When first she learned she was to marry Robert she had told him they were through, but he had not believed it. And when Robert came drunk to their wedding bed, weeping for another woman, Cersei had come back to him the very next day, crying in his arms, begging for forgiveness. He had forgiven her then, as he had forgiven her now.

At the bottom of the hill Jaime told Ser Gregor and the rest to keep moving west with Lord Tarly. In the darkness ahead was the rest of the army with the rest of the Tyrell prisoners, plus many supply wagons, all ready to move. After the battle they had pulled most of the men back to the north of the river with just a small force holding earthen entrenchments on the south bank. The commanders knew not where they would move, but Jaime had hinted that it would be across the river and to attack the Dornishmen. Just this morning he had ordered the Freys across, to scout the route and to provide a blocking force in case the Dornish attacked while the army assembled across the river.

Or so they believed. They did not know he was sending them to be a distraction and to be possibly destroyed if the Dornish figured out that an escape was afoot. Only Ser Addam knew the truth. When Jaime had told him that afternoon he seemed surprised. "We're retreating?"

"No, we are saving this army from destruction," Jaime said. He then told him about the reports from Lys about the dragons' performance in battle.

"Good gods," Ser Addam said. Then he had frowned. "My lord, the men may lose faith if we retreat. They have tasted victory and want more."

"They will taste dragon fire if we stay here. Once we move west we will spread the word on why we are retreating. That and the fact that they will see their homes and loved ones soon again will strengthen their morale."

"Yes, but for how long? The enemy will follow us."

"They will, but let us hope Ned Stark was right. Winter is coming, sooner I hope than later. While we are warm and well fed in the Rock, they will freeze and starve outside of it."

As part of his plan Jaime had ordered the wooden bridges across the Blackwater covered in oil and men standing by with fire arrows. A precaution, he told his commanders, in case the Tyrells or Dornish tried to surprise them. As soon as they started west he would order the bridges destroyed.

In a few moments his horse made it to the top of the hill, despite the darkness and the steep slope. Cersei and Qyburn were looking east towards the city, their guards and other escorts around them. When he had left them they had helmets on and visors closed, but now they sat on their horses, both with their helmets off.

"Cersei, we must move," he said.

"Wait, we must say goodbye to the city first," she replied, and he noticed a yearning in her voice, a yearning that was always there when she had a desire for him. Even in the darkness he could see her eyes were aglow…and then it happened.

At first he thought it was thunder, and looked up to the sky for rain to come. But then came another thunderous clap, and more, and soon it was a rolling wave of noise,…and then came a wash of air, moving fast, hitting them and buffeting them on their horses… and with the air came the screams.

The city was on fire, large plumes of green and red fire and smoke reaching up into the dark sky. More explosions followed, more screams came on the air, and in the distance Jaime could see buildings tumbling, collapsing, streets on fire, and now came the sound of bells, too late to warn the people that they were about to die.

"Isn't it glorious?" Cersei shouted into a new wave of wind that hit them…and with it came the smell, the stench, and Jaime knew that smell, the smell of wildfire.

He rounded on Cersei and Qyburn, whose eyes were large and filled with joy as much as his sister's.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" he screamed at them.

"I have taken my revenge on this stinking morass!" Cersei shouted back, her voice full of lust and joy. "I have shown these fools they cannot cross a Lannister. They humiliated me, Jaime, tore me down, stripped me naked, paraded me through the streets, flung dung at me, spit on me, cursed my name. Now they will have good reason to curse it, if any survive. Daenerys Targaryen can have the city, a city of ashes and bones, as her father once wanted to give Robert!"

He was too stunned to reply, his anger too great, his whole body and soul filled with loathing for what she had done. And there was her pet, his eyes on fire as much as hers, and Jaime knew he had done it, had planned it, and found a way to set it all off, just like he had done at the Sept of Baelor. Jaime had killed Mad Aerys' pyromancer Rossart once for even thinking of doing this. He knew what he had to do now.

Jaime pulled out his sword and swung it at Qyburn…but two men moved to block him, and stopped his stroke with their steel, two of Cersei's larger escorts, no doubt members of her Queensguard.

"Put up your steel, my lord!" one shouted at him as more men moved between him and Qyburn and Cersei.

Qyburn recoiled in horror from him, moving his horse back. Cersei looked at Jaime in shock. "Jaime, what are you doing?"

"Killing this monster you have created!"

"I gave the command! You may as well kill me!"

Now they had surrounded him, and his clumsy attempts to strike at them failed, hitting shields and other swords, and then his left arm, his poor substitute for a sword arm, was grabbed and he was dragged from his horse and pinned to the ground.

"Take his weapons," Cersei commanded and it was done. "Now, let him up."

They picked him up, and she was on the ground now, facing him, as they held his arms.

"Jaime…how could you not think I would have my revenge?" As she spoke, the destruction went on, the screaming went on, the horror went on, her face bathed in the glow of the fires. She waved her arm at the burning city. "This, I do this for us! In the future, when they speak on us, people will remember this night, and all who died, and yes, they will curse our names, but in the end, they will still be dead, and I will have my vengeance."

"Cersei…have you gone mad?" he gasped.

She snorted. "I knew you would never understand. That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you still had a soft spot for these fools. You saved the city once, and they still cursed your name. Called you Kingslayer, when you should have been hailed as a hero. That should have been a lesson to you and everyone else. There are no more heroes, Jaime, no more shining white knights on horses charging in to save the day."

He glared at her and had no answer to her mad ravings.

"Your Grace," Qyburn said. "It is time."

"Yes. Look, Jaime. Look at Aegon's Hill. Look where you killed Aerys and were branded forever. Soon that ugly iron chair will be nothing but a slag heap."

And as she spoke Jaime turned his head and in a few moments came the largest explosion yet. A massive cloud of dust and green and red flame erupted from the base of the Red Keep. High it climbed, the dust and flame, and Jaime could see towers collapsing, and brick crumbling, and then it all disappeared from view in the rising smoke.

"It is done," Cersei said with a long sigh as more wind buffeted them, her voice sounding like it did when they had finished satisfying each other in bed. Now she turned back to him and her demeanor changed to coldness. "Jaime, I cannot have you killing Qyburn. I need him. Do I have your word you will do him no harm?"

"No, you do not!" he said, seething. It was a mistake, he should have said yes, and killed the grey rat later. But his emotions were too strong at the moment.

She sighed. "You have forced my hand." She looked at her guards. "Take his armor off of him. Bind his hands."

But now Qyburn spoke, coming to Jaime's defense. "Your Grace, he is the army commander. What will the men think?"

"What do you suggest? He wants to kill you."

"Now he does," Qyburn said. "But I am sure we will come to an understanding once tempers have cooled."

"Well?" Cersei said, looking at Jaime.

"Perhaps…Your Grace," Jaime said, struggling to control his temper, knowing he had to say what they wanted him to say. "I am sure I will be quite busy the next few days. Keep your grey rat away from me until I cool off, Your Grace, if you want him safe."

"Very well," she said. "Qyburn, you had best ride on."

He was soon gone. The men released Jaime, but did not yet give him back his weapons. Cersei stood on the hill, looking towards the burning, screaming city, her body framed by the rising flames. Jaime stepped behind her and whispered.

"You too had best keep away from me, Your Grace," he said. "We are through…this time forever."

"You don't mean that," she answered, a bare whisper, her voice catching.

"You always called Tyrion a monster, Cersei. I let it go, knowing why you hated him so. But now I know who the real monster is in our family."

He turned away from her and grabbed his sword and dagger off the man holding them, and mounted his horse and rode away, shattered in spirit. The screams of the people and the light from the flames of the burning city followed him as he rode west, and he wanted to do nothing more than leave, go anywhere but here, where he would have to look at her each day…and wonder how he could ever have been fooled for so long by a woman he had once loved.

---

The Kingsroad – Arya

Long days and nights it took them to ride from the Trident to Moat Cailin, nights of cold and snow and hunger. They traveled the first part in Frey territory, and despite the large force sent south to the capital many Freys still patrolled the land, seeking those who had killed their lord. In towns and villages notices were up, offering a reward for the three of them, as Marsha Heddle had told them. No inns or featherbeds were for them anymore. Cold ground or a bed of spruce or pine branches in a lean-to was all that they could expect. Once they slept in a barn, a cold snowy night that drove them indoors. With the dawn and the crowing of the rooster they had fled, but not before raiding the chicken coop and carrying off a dozen eggs, which they later fried up on a flat iron pan they had gotten from another farm. That was a good breakfast, one of the few good ones they had. Fortunately, Bronn was skilled at living out of doors, and without him Arya was sure they would have died or been caught by now. He knew how to hide, how to build a fire in a place so no one would see it, how to find rabbits, and how to sneak into a farm or home and steal what they needed.

"A sellsword's life is sometimes a hard life," he told her one morning as they built a lean-to near a half frozen stream while Gendry was out gathering fallen wood for their fire. Bronn had an axe they had stolen and was chopping spruce tree branches while Arya gathered them up to make a roof for their shelter. "But it does prepare you for when times are tough. Bet when you were growing up in a castle you never expected to be sleeping on the ground, eh?"

"No," she told him. "And I never expected my mother and father and brothers would be murdered, either."

"Aye," he said. "Sorry about that. Least you got some measure of revenge."

"Yes," she said. "But it still won't bring them back."

"Nothing ever will. Revenge tastes sweet, but it don't last. Best to look on the future. Now don't forget to invite me to the wedding, you hear, after all I done for you two."

Arya felt her face get hot. "What? What wedding?"

"You and the lad. Don't deny it, cause I see the way you two make eyes at each other, and snuggle together when I am on guard duty."

"We do not!"

"No? What about when he was hurt and you was near tears the whole time? And what was all that business in King's Landing, you hiding out in his place, him denying you was there and all, ready to go to a black cell or worse to protect you?"

"He's my friend, that's why!"

"Oh, well, pardon me, my lady, for seeing what ain't there."

Gendry had heard the last part as he came back to their little camp with an armload of branches for the fire. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Arya said right away. Bronn chuckled and she shot him a withering look and he raised his hands as if to say I surrender.

The next day they left Frey territory and reached the base of the lands known as the Neck. Arya was excited because she knew this was the beginning of the North. She had come this way once before, going to King's Landing with her father and sister, but that had been a long time ago.

She was also a bit worried. "It's all swamp," she said. "Except the raised Kingsroad. Supposed to be lion lizards and snakes in there."

"Might be they're sleeping now the cold has come," Bronn said.

"Maybe," Arya replied, not really sure. "I do know there are no people except the crannogmen."

"Who are they?" Gendry asked.

"Just people," Arya replied. "Shorter than most, and they have brown skin. They like to use strange weapons, nets and forked spears. I remember once some came to Winterfell to pay respects to my father. Some people called them frog eaters, because they like to eat frogs I guess."

"Heard they like to kill travelers," Bronn said.

"That's all lies," Arya told him. "Howland Reed is their leader. He is…was…a friend of my father's. They never harm anyone. They help travelers…I think."

They sat on their horses staring at the road as it rose above the snow covered land and went off among the reeds and trees that was all they could see for miles.

"Well, we have to go through it so we'd best get started," Bronn said.

It took them six days to get through it and it was harder than any other part of their trip even though they saw no people and no one was looking for them. Food was the problem. They had little left and none was to be found in the swamps. No animals at all did they see except a few birds and they had no bow or arrows to bring them down. The land was frozen, the plants mostly dead, and Bronn was mistrustful of them anyway, not knowing if they were safe to eat or not. No towns or villages were in the Neck, and no people did they see either, going north or south, though the Kingsroad was well rutted, and it looked like a large group had passed by here recently. They also found a wagon, with two wheels and its axle broken, left abandoned by the side of the road. It was a fairly new looking wagon, and hadn't been sitting there long. They broke up its wood for their fire on the first night.

"Might be Vale men," Bronn ventured. "Going North. Can't see anyone else in such numbers on this road."

"Could be Freys, maybe," Gendry suggested, casting his eyes about in worry.

"No," Arya said. "They know better than to go North. Any Northman would kill a Frey soon as he saw him." Someday they would kill them all, Arya knew, and raze those cursed twin towers to the ground.

Now in safer lands they traveled by day, though the days were shorter, so it seemed like they moved less each day. They camped just off the Kingsroad, among the trees and reeds, with a big fire to scare away any animals, though they never saw or heard any. After the food began to grow short, they wanted to attract animals but still none came.

Until the third night…and Arya began to dream again…of Nymeria.

She was on a road, walking, her nose to the ground sniffing, and then she raised her head and looked around…and she was alone. The pack was gone, no where to be seen. Arya put her nose to the ground again and caught the scent…of horseflesh. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered at the scent. She followed it and there, up ahead, was a fire, off the side of the road. And men…with horses. Fire she feared, but not men. They could die easily, she had learned, and more often then not they ran. All she had to do was howl.

"Arya!" Gendry was shouting. "Wake up!"

"What? What's happening?" she said in a groggy voice.

"You were howling," Bronn said. "You…oh shit!"

Nymeria burst into their camp and leaped for one of the horses, Arya's horse, the smallest one, and in a flash she had it by the throat and dragged it to the ground. The other two horses buck and tried to run away but were tied tight to a nearby tree. Gendry went to calm them as Bronn pulled out his sword and tried to stab Nymeria but Arya leaped at him, and knocked his arm away.

"NO!" she shouted. "Leave her be!"

"She'll kill us next!" Bronn yelled.

Gendry now had his sword out pointing at Bronn. "Do as she says!"

"Boy, you don't want to go pointing steel at me less you intend to use it."

"Stop it, both of you," Arya said as she came up behind Nymeria. Bronn lowered his sword and so did Gendry but they still glared at each other.

The horse was breathing its last as Nymeria ripped out its throat with a shake of her massive head. Arya felt weak and fell to her knees as a flood of sensations came over her, the blood in her mouth, a warm rush of taste sensations, and the raw meat delicious as she gulped it down.

"Nymeria," she said softly and the direwolf turned and bared her bloody teeth, growling at Arya. "Nymeria…it's me…Arya…you remember me…don't you? Have you been following me?"

She held out her right hand and Nymeria approached, sniffing. "Arya, don't," Gendry said, his voice full of worry.

"Sshhh, I know what I am doing. She won't harm me."

"I bloody hope so," said Bronn, his sword raised again, as saw him on her left out of the corner of her eye.

"Stay back," she said quietly as Nymeria came closer. Her eyes were on Arya, and she sniffed her hand...and then licked it, and made a pitiful whining sound. Arya leaned forward, her arms open, and Nymeria came to her and Arya hugged her and felt her tears fill her eyes.

"I'm so sorry I sent you away," she gasped. "I had to or they would have killed you. I'm so sorry."

Nymeria licked her face, and Arya felt and smelled the blood of the horse on her face but did not care. She laughed now and hugged Nymeria fiercely, never wanting to let go.

"Bloody hell," Bronn said as he put his sword away. He looked at the dead horse. "Well, no sense letting it go to waste. We got fresh meat again."

He moved to the horse but Nymeria growled and snapped at him and he stepped back. "Arya, tell your pet we got to eat, too."

"I think after she has had her full would be best," Gendry said as Nymeria returned to the dead horse and began to rip its guts out, steam rising in the cold air from the internal heat of the dead animal.

"Aye, maybe so. She's the leader of her pack and always eats first I bet."

They sat around the fire as Nymeria ate, and Arya told the story of how her father and brothers had found the direwolves and how she had lost Nymeria.

"You say the stag had killed the mother direwolf?" Bronn asked.

"Yes," Arya answered.

"A bad omen, that was," he replied.

"What?"

"The Baratheon stag killing the Stark direwolf."

"Oh…you mean like Joffrey ordering my father killed?"

"Aye."

Gendry shook his head. "But Joffrey was never a Baratheon."

"No, I guess not, not like you," Bronn said.

Gendry scowled. "That drunk may have sired me but he was never my father, not really."

"I suppose not," Bronn replied. "Ah, looks like she's had her full."

Nymeria had stepped back from the horse and was lying down nearby, looking at them, her snout and mouth bloody. Bronn stood and pulled out his dagger but Nymeria growled. He handed the blade to Arya. "Maybe best you do this."

Arya grinned and carefully approached the dead horse and Nymeria let her cut some meat from the body and soon they had it roasting over the fire. She cut more from the carcass and put it in a couple of canvas sacks and that's what they lived on for the next few days before they reached Moat Cailin.

Nymeria came with them of course, but the last two horses did not like it at all. Arya rode with Gendry now, her arms tight around his waist, and she told Nymeria to walk far ahead of them so she would not scare the horses so much. She looked at Arya with curious eyes and then did as Arya commanded. The horses still had her scent so they were shy and it took all their coaxing just to get them to move up the road.

"Might be your pet wants to eat these two as well," Bronn said. "Then we'll be next."

"She'll hunt on her own," Arya promised.

"Hunt what?" Gendry asked. "There's nothing here."

"Then Nymeria will share our food."

"Little as it is," Bronn said almost under his breath but Arya heard him.

"Nymeria is coming with us and that is all there is to it." No one argued with her after that.

The horse meat lasted, barely, with Nymeria eating much of it, and they gave her the biggest share so she would not eye them and think bad thoughts. Arya knew she wouldn't harm her but she was not so sure about Gendry or Bronn. By the time they reached the snowy frozen swamp where Moat Cailin was located Nymeria was eyeing the last two horses and Arya knew what she wanted to do, sensing as she sensed, smelling horseflesh and feeling the desire to attack, to kill. She never told Gendry and Bronn about her dreams, or the connection she had with Nymeria. She just felt they would not understand her and might even be scared of her.

The Kingsroad passed through Moat Cailin. They could have gone around it, but they needed supplies and news of the North. Bronn's sharp eyes saw the banners over the fort from far off, the Stark direwolf and the falcon of the Vale, and then they approached up the road.

"What do you lot want?" shouted a guard from the high walls as they came to the gate.

"Food and a bed for the night," Arya said.

Now a new face appeared, an older man. "Who is asking?"

"Arya Stark of Winterfell and her companions."

"Arya…Stark?" the man said in surprise. "She is supposed to be dead."

Bronn snorted. "Don't look like she's dead to me. You see this beast with us? Know what it is? A direwolf. Now who else but a Stark would have one of them?"

The man ignored Bronn. "If you are truly Arya Stark, you would know who the lady of the Eyrie is."

"My Aunt Lysa, my mother's sister, a Tully of Riverrun," Arya said. "Though I heard she is dead."

"So she is," the man said. He turned his head and shouted. "Open the gates!"

He met them inside the gates and dipped his head to her. "Ser Morton Waynwood, my lady. Welcome to Moat Cailin."

"Thank you. This is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, and Gendry, my traveling companions. We ask for shelter and food, good ser. And maybe a bath as well."

"You shall have it all," he said. "I would send a bird to Winterfell to say you are here, but I sent my last one yesterday. Perhaps when one comes back." Then he eyed Nymeria. "Is it truly yours?"

"Yes. Her name is Nymeria," Arya replied. "She will not harm anyone as long as they stay away. I will put her in a kennel or a room with food and that will keep her calm."

"As you wish, my lady."

"What news of the North?" Bronn asked.

"Much. Let us take care of your horses and…direwolf, first, then you shall dine with me." Then he eyed Bronn with suspicion. "Ser Bronn, is it?"

"Aye, what of it?"

"You were the one who killed Ser Vardis and stood for the Imp in his trial by combat."

"That was me. A fair fight it was and I won."

"So you say," Ser Morton said with evident skepticism.

Arya spoke up. "Ser Morton, Ser Bronn is with me, and has been most helpful in ensuring our safety. He has sworn his sword to me and my house and no longer serves the Lannisters."

"For now," Ser Morton said. "A ser he may call himself, my lady, but a sellsword he will always be."

"Can't disagree with that," Bronn said with a grin.

Ser Morton ignored him. "Follow me, if you please."

They moved to the stables and gave their horses to some men. The fort was full of men and supply wagons, Arya saw, all from the Vale, and they soon learned that three thousand men were marching to Winterfell the next day as reinforcements.

"We will join them," Arya said when Ser Morton informed them of this as they dined with him in what passed for a great hall in the fort. She was glad for once to be where people were on her side.

"You are not the only one's heading north," he said and then he explained about the strange visitors they had, the Brotherhood Without Banners, Brienne of Tarth and her squire, the red woman, and of all people, Sandor Clegane the Hound.

"He lives?" Arya asked in surprise, remembering how battered and near death he had seemed the last time she saw him. Even more surprising was that he was traveling with the Brotherhood and Brienne, people who had tried to kill him once.

"As of a few weeks ago, yes," said Ser Morton. "Had a limp I noticed, but otherwise seemed healthy enough. All heading to Winterfell, though the red woman was in chains." Then he explained all that though Ser Morton did not know why Jon had banished her from the North.

"Any word of the Imp?" Bronn asked Ser Morton.

The knight nodded. "We have heard he is in Winterfell. Said to be ambassador for Daenerys Targaryen. Why she took such a man into her service is beyond me."

"You know he never killed Jon Arryn," Bronn said.

"The gods alone know who killed our lord," Ser Morton said. "Maybe not your Imp friend, I must admit. Still, he killed his own father, and the gods will surely curse him for that."

"What news of my family?" Arya asked to end this talk before they argued again.

"Jon Snow has taken most of the army to the Wall, to defend against the ice demons."

They looked at him in confusion. "Ice demons?" Gendry asked and so Ser Morton explained, about the White Walkers and all the danger they posed, shocking news to Arya and her party.

"They can't be real, can they?" she asked. Tales of such she had heard as a child from Old Nan, but they were just stories.

Ser Morton shrugged. "No one knows, my lady. But your brother and other members of the Watch claim to have fought them at Hardhome. That's why he marched his army to the Wall. He thinks they will attack it next. Your sister holds Winterfell in her brother's name, till he can return from the Wall."

Arya was confused. "What do you mean, 'in his name'? I know they call him king now, but Jon cannot inherit Winterfell. It belongs to Sansa."

Ser Morton looked at her in surprise. "My lady, have you not heard? Your brother Brandon…he still lives, and is at Castle Black."

Arya felt a shock spread through her body and she had to grip the table to steady herself. "Bran?" she gasped. "He's alive?"

"Yes. He and Rickon Stark were never killed by Theon Greyjoy is the word. They escaped from Winterfell…though I am sorry to say Rickon was later killed by Ramsey Bolton."

More shocks, first joy and then heartbreak once more, and she felt weak all over. All she had thought was true was now in tatters. She fought back the tears that came to her eyes as Ser Morton explained what he knew, how Bran had gone North of the Wall with some companions for some reason he knew not, and how Rickon was being fostered by the Umbers but they had betrayed him and gave him to the Boltons and he was later killed during the great battle, murdered by Ramsey Bolton. As he spoke her head spun and she had to leave them before she totally broke down. Outside she went, and Gendry followed her. To the stables she found her feet taking her and there he found her and into his strong arms she went and she gasped and cried as he held her tight.

"Why have the gods been so cruel?" she asked as she finally calmed herself.

"I know not," he said. "They have never done me any favors." Then he looked at her. "Well, maybe one."

She knew he was trying to make her feel better but nothing would ease her pain yet. "I thought they were both dead…now, to hear they were alive all this time…and now Rickon is truly dead." Then she got mad. "The Umbers…I can't believe it. The Greatjon was always my father's friend."

"Ser Morton said it was his son who did it."

"Did he? Yes, he did."

"Said he was dead now too, in the battle."

"Good." she said, getting madder. "Bran is lord of Winterfell now. I will get him to kill every last Umber. After I kill the red woman, Thoros, and Lord Beric."

"Arya…please don't do that."

"What? I thought you would be glad. They sold you to her. She wanted to kill you, she put leeches on you."

"I know, but…seems like there is enough killing going on. And maybe, I mean, with these ice demon things, might be we need men like Thoros and Dondarrion. They do have some kind of power, remember?"

"Maybe," she said, knowing he was right though she still wanted to kill them. "But the red woman dies."

Gendry nodded. "Yes. But only her. Please."

Arya sighed and then nodded. "Okay."

That night she was given a private room with Nymeria on the floor chewing on some raw bones, while Gendry and Bronn slept in a barracks with the soldiers. For the first time in a long time, Arya felt safe. But things were not so safe in the North, she had learned, and the news of her family left her both happy and sad as well. Those that were left were still in danger. The White Walkers had arisen, and Jon had fought them, and was preparing to fight them again.

For a long time she thought once she had reached Winterfell all would be better. But now maybe that was just a dream, and a new nightmare was about to begin.

---

Winterfell – Sansa

It was the lunch hour, and Sansa was sitting with Tyrion, Brienne, and Ser Davos at a table in the very full great hall, along with the captain of her guard, discussing Tyrion's departure for the Wall tomorrow, when suddenly Baelish and two of his men entered the hall, dragging Podrick Payne with them. The young squire had a bruised face, with his right eye puffy, and a trickle of blood came from a cut lip.

"I caught your spy, Imp!" Baelish said to a suddenly silent hall as they dropped Podrick to the floor before Sansa's table. Around her men were starting to rise from their tables, anger on their faces as they looked to Baelish and his men.

Ser Davos rose, angry as well, and so did Brienne. Only Tyrion remained calm.

"So you have," Tyrion said, after sipping his wine. "But did you have to beat him?"

"What is the meaning of all this, Lord Baelish?" Sansa asked, finding her voice at last, as she rose from the table.

"I found this one spying on me."

"Where?" she asked.

"In the village. I was visiting an establishment, of which I have a small percentage of, and he was there with his ear to the door while I was taking to the proprietress when my men caught him."

"Ah, so you do own a whorehouse in Winterfell," Tyrion said.

"A small percentage I own," Baelish said. "I want him punished. And Lord Tyrion as well. He confessed he was doing it for him."

"It seems you have already punished him," said Brienne, her hand on her sword's pommel.

"Aye," said Ser Davos as he came to Pod's side. He glared at the two Vale men. "Step back. Now."

They hesitated and then did so at a nod from Baelish. Ser Davos helped Pod up and put him in a chair. "Doesn't look too bad," he said as bent to look at Pod's face.

"It hurts," Pod said.

"Wine will cure that," Tyrion advised.

"Well?" said Baelish looking at Sansa. "My lady, I demand justice."

"As do I, my lady," said Brienne. "His men beat my squire for no reason."

Sansa was at a loss, her mind awhirl, and all were looking at her. Then Podrick spoke and decided it all for her.

"A message he was giving her, my lady. I heard. To send to King's Landing."

Sansa glared at Baelish. "Who were you sending the message to?"

"For the Lannisters, no doubt," said Brienne, her sword partly out of its scabbard now. "Say the word my lady and I will gut him."

"Not for the Lannisters," Baelish said right away, cool as ever. "For my business contacts. I must keep an eye on my ever growing concerns."

"Now what am I supposed to think, my lord?" Sansa asked. "I strictly forbad anyone from sending messages from Winterfell without my knowledge. You knew this, yet you refused to obey my commands. Maybe it is you who should be punished."

"Is this how it is to be? After all I have done for you and the North?"

"I would not bring up 'all you have done for me' again, my lord," Sansa coolly replied. "For that includes selling me to the Boltons, and allowing a madman to rape me and use my body for his disgusting pleasure."

Now all around them men of the castle were drawing nearer, angry looks coming from them. Ser Davos looked at her. "My lady, we will soon have a riot on our hands."

She nodded and turned to her people. "My good folk, please return to your duties. All will be well." Her eye fell on four men of the guard at a nearby table. "Please remain. I may need your help."

"Aye, my lady," one said as they put hands on sword hilts. The rest of the people began to leave.

"We will soon get to the bottom of this," Sansa said. "Brienne, go to the village and find this woman."

"I know not where she is," Brienne said.

"I do," Tyrion replied. "Come, my lady, we shan't be but a moment."

Davos wiped the blood from Pod's face with a cloth and gave him a cup of wine. "Drink it down," he said and Pod did so. Davos turned to glare at Baelish. "You have gone too far this time."

"I was within my rights," Baelish said. "If I had killed him I would have still been within my rights."

"You and your men had best not harm anyone else," Sansa said. "Or then I will see justice is done for certain."

He stared at her, and she saw uncertainty in his eyes, only the second time ever, the other being in Mole's Town, when he had first offered his men to help her and she had refused. When Brienne had wanted to kill him.

Tyrion and Brienne soon came back, with an older woman, dark of hair, a bit heavy in the body, and she was all flustered, and even more so when she saw Lord Baelish. She dipped her head to Sansa, as Tyrion resumed his seat and Brienne stood behind the woman. "My lady, how can I be of service?" the woman asked.

"I want to know what your relationship with Lord Baelish is."

"He owns a small part of my business. Twenty percent is all, my lady. I swear."

"I care not for your business relationship with him," she said. "I want to know why he was visiting you earlier."

Her eyes darted to Baelish, who nodded. "Tell her the truth," he said.

She gulped and nodded. "Was just a message, for his man in King's Landing," she said. "Business is all, I swear, my lady."

"Did you read this message?"

"No. It was sealed."

"Where is it now?"

"Gone."

"And how was this message to go to King's Landing?" Tyrion asked.

She gulped. "I gave it to one of my girls…who…who…no, please…I can't say."

She trembled and Sansa came to her and put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Are you afraid of what he will do?"

She nodded quickly.

"Be not afraid. You are under my protection. Lord Baelish will not harm you."

The woman nodded again and spoke. "One of my girls, she's from Castle Cerwyn. She rides there once a week with any messages from Lord Baelish. She knows a riverboat master there, he's sweet on her, and he sends out the messages by boat down river to White Harbor and then by ship to the capital. She already left."

Sansa felt her blood rising. "How many messages has he sent?"

"Just three so far as I know," she said.

Tyrion laughed. "I think perhaps you should have just let Pod go, Littlefinger. You have stirred up a hornet's nest here, haven't you?"

"I have done nothing wrong," Baelish declared. "I am not in contact with our enemies. It is all for business."

"Why send messages by sea?" Ser Davos asked. "Because you know all raven messages are read by us?"

"You may not know this, ser," Baelish began. "But no one is allowed to have ravens in the capital except the royal family."

"True," said Tyrion.

"This was the only way I could keep in touch with my affairs in the south," Baelish continued. "As a great lord it is my right to send messages without interference."

It was a reasonable explanation but he still violated her orders. In that moment Sansa decided. She could never trust him, now even more so. She turned to the captain of the guard. "Captain, arrest Lord Baelish and put him in a cell."

"At once, my lady," the captain said as he approached Baelish. Brienne pulled out her sword as did the four men of the guard. The two men of the Vale stood there and did nothing. "Come along, my lord," the captain said.

Baelish smiled at Sansa. "This will soon be over. When Lord Robin Arryn hears of my mistreatment, he will threaten to withdraw all his men back to the Vale."

Davos stepped up to him, glaring at him. "He will never hear of it. For no word shall leave this castle again without our knowing it…of course, when we hang you for being a traitor, then we will have to tell Lord Arryn. But then it will be too late for you. Take him away."

When he was gone, the woman stood there trembling. "My lady, I did not know you commanded no messages be sent. I swear by all the gods, old and new."

"Not to worry," Sansa said. "You are not the first person to unwittingly fall for one of Lord Baelish's plots. You may go."

When she was gone, and the two Vale men as well, Sansa sat and breathed deeply. "Did I do the right thing?"

"Yes, my lady," said Brienne, "We cannot trust him. Maybe we can catch this girl who is riding to Castle Cerwyn if she just left."

Tyrion shook his head. "Let her go. If we catch her and if the message is what Baelish said it is, well then, we have no reason to keep him locked up, now do we?"

"Reason enough," said Davos. "He disobeyed a direct order."

"His crimes are greater than that," Sansa said.

Brienne looked at her. "Is there more to this that I am unaware of?"

"There is," Sansa told her. "All will be clear soon, so not to worry." She looked at Pod's bruises. "It is time you saw the maester, Podrick. Lady Brienne, please take him."

"Yes, of course," Brienne said and they left.

Davos looked worried. "Might be we call more guards," he said. "The Vale men will not take kindly to this."

"They would be mad to do anything rash," Tyrion said. "Lord Royce would hang them all. You did say he has no love for Littlefinger, did you not?" That was for Sansa.

"Yes. None at all."

"Good," Tyrion said. "So we can depend on him at least if this turns sour."

Sansa knew she wanted to depend on one more person. "You will stay here, my lord," she said. "I need you here, not at the Wall."

Tyrion smiled. "Gladly I will stay. But my Queen commands…"

"She is not here," Sansa said quickly. "Besides, like you said, Jon can write and tell us what is happening at the Wall." She looked at Ser Davos. "I think you may be right. How many Vale men are here?"

"A hundred maybe, not more than we have. But Baelish said three thousand more had arrived at Moat Cailin and may be on their way here already."

"We will send them on to the Wall as soon as possible," she told them. "Would you please check on our guards and make sure no unrest is beginning?"

"At once, my lady," Davos said. "Perhaps it was best you two were inside."

To her solar they went, Sansa wanting more words with Tyrion. "Do you partake of whores often?" she asked when they were seated at her table.

His eyes widened a bit and then he sighed. "Yes, I must confess. A weakness most men have, the desire for the flesh."

"Some have tastes beyond desire," she said quietly.

"I…I had not known of your mistreatment."

"It matters not now. It is over and he is dead," she said, though she knew it never would be truly over.

"Yes…fed to his own dogs alive, they tell me. By you."

"If you had known Ramsey you would not think it too cruel a death."

"I am sure he deserved every bite. Remind me not to anger you in the future."

She had to laugh at that. "You know I never wanted you for a husband, but you do have many good qualities. When our annulment is finalized, you should find a nice woman and marry."

"Alas, I have been cursed in marriage and in love, more than once. I was married once before you. It did not work out."

Sansa was taken aback. "I did not know. Who was she?"

"A young girl, name of Tysha," he said, his eyes sad now. "Both of us were young, not much older than you. We were wed in secret, but my father put an end to it when he said she was a whore and only married me for my gold."

"Gods…was she really a…?"

"Yes, as it turns out she was a whore and it had all been a game set up by my brother to see me get my first woman. But that is a story for another day."

"I'm sorry."

"Not as much as I am." He stood. "I should go and see Podrick. After all he got hurt doing something for me."

"Why did you ask him to spy?"

"I knew Baelish was up to something but had no proof. If Podrick found it, we could make plans based on that. Or, as happened, if he got caught, I was hoping Baelish would overreact, which he did. So it all worked out."

"They could have killed Podrick."

"Yes, they could have. But I did not think Baelish would be so rash. He knows who Podrick is and what role he and Lady Brienne played in your rescue from the Boltons. I am sure he knew you would react badly to Podrick's death. Lady Brienne certainly would have."

"You took an awful chance."

"True, but in life sometimes one must take such chances, even with others' lives. And not to worry about Pod, he knew what he was getting into, and gladly did it."

"I am sure he would slay a dragon for you if you asked."

"Well, let us hope it never comes to that. Speaking of slaying, what will you do with Baelish?"

She sighed. "I know not. That is why I need you here."

"He was not wrong about one thing. He is a great lord now, after he married your aunt. He can demand a trial and if you refuse this will not go good for your reputation and family name."

"Any trial will end badly, for me and him," she said. "I will not hold back, I will tell them everything."

"Good." Then his eyes lit up. "Tell the truth this time, the whole truth…yes…that is what you must do. You must confess…to Lord Royce."

"About everything that happened in the Vale?" Sansa asked in surprise.

"Quite so. Gods, where is the ink and parchment? Ah, there it is." He brought the writing supplies to the desk. "We still have a raven for Castle Black, yes?"

"One, I believe."

"Good. Now, let us think on how to write this."

"Are you sure this is the best thing to do?"

"Certainly," Tyrion replied. "Confession is good for the soul. Or so I have heard. Lord Royce will scream blue murder when he hears this and then we will not have to worry about the army breaking up. We should have thought of this sooner."

"He may be angry I lied to them about what happened."

"How could he be angry at dear sweet you, who trembled in fear and worried what the monster Baelish would do to you? Yes, that is what we will say. You write, I will tell you what to say. We must put it in such a way that you only lied to him because you feared for your life, feared what Baelish would do to you."

"That at least is half true."

"Good. Now, let us begin."

They wrote the letter, as brief and as small as they could on the thin parchment roll, and the next morning the bird flew for Castle Black.

Their fears of unrest were unfounded. Sansa and Ser Davos met with the captain of the Vale men and he understood when she told them why Baelish was arrested and he promised to keep the peace as long as Baelish got a fair hearing.

Later that morning she went to see Baelish in the cells under the armory. She had the guards leave the corridor as she stood by the bars of his cell and talked to him.

"Have you come to your senses, my lady?" he asked, his eyes on her, eyes that still said he wanted her in all ways.

"If you mean will I release you, the answer is no."

"I see. And what are the charges?"

"Treason and murder."

"Of course," he said, almost indifferent, in a lighthearted way, as if he was not in trouble at all. "When will my trial be held?"

"Soon. I believe in swift justice, just like my father did."

"I will get no justice here I am sure."

"No, my lord, we will be fair. You will have your say…and then I will have mine. I will confess to all, in front of many, as to all that went on in the Vale and before, in King's Landing."

His eyes narrowed. "Careful now. You would not want the realm to think you murdered your aunt, now would you?"

"We both know you did that. And soon Lord Royce will as well. I have sent a bird to Castle Black, confessing all."

He snorted. "Lord Royce will not believe it."

"Why not? He despises you so very much, as do many of the men of the Vale. I am sure he will send on word to sweet Robin, to tell him how his mother died at your hands."

"I saved your life! More than once!" he almost shouted, his veneer of indifference cracking.

"Yes, you did, and I thank you for that. But you also sold me to a madman."

"I told you I did not know he was like that."

"I still don't believe you, no matter how often you say it."

"There is naught I can do about that. But I do recall a letter, pleading for my help. You promised me a reward if I brought my men to help your brother and you." He looked around his cell. "So this is how you reward people in the North?"

"I made a promise, yes...but breaking it does not trouble my sleep. You say you love me but how can I ever love you back after all you have done. I know it was you who started this war that saw my father and mother and brothers die, with so very many more."

He looked at her in what could have passed for genuine surprise if she did not know him so well. "I started a war? And how did I do that, pray tell?"

"I know about the dagger. Lord Varys is with Daenerys Targaryen. He told Tyrion everything. Theon Greyjoy knows as well. My mother told him and Robb what you said to them in King's Landing in front of Lord Varys."

"What am I supposed to have said?"

"You know. That the dagger used to attack my mother and Bran was Tyrion Lannister's dagger."

"All lies."

She was not surprised at his lack of confession. He had no soul, and one needed one to own up to one's crimes. "I think not."

"And you trust these people? Lord Varys the Spider, known for more plots and spinning more webs than anyone else in the realm. Theon Greyjoy, who attacked your home, killed Ser Rodrik and so many others. Burnt two farm boys to make people think he killed your brothers. These men you trust?"

"Why not? They have never lied to me or my parents. You started this war. Why? So my father would die? So my mother would marry you? So you could cause chaos and climb on that cursed iron chair?"

"It's all a lie."

"So you say."

"I demand to be tried in front of my accusers."

"It will take months for them to be here, if ever."

"I can wait."

"You will not be tried for starting the war. You will be tried for murdering my aunt. And for treason, for sending messages to our enemies. All of the witnesses as to those charges are here."

"I did no such thing. As I said, it was for my business."

"So you say. But there is more. I have received a letter from King's Landing, from Queen Cersei, promising all your old positions back and a pardon if you send the men of the Vale to King's Landing to support her. Oh, but you have to do one thing first. You have to kill me and Jon."

"I saw no such letter!"

"I know."

"It's all a plot to discredit me."

"Perhaps. But with you writing secret messages to King's Landing, how can I be sure you are not in league with them?"

She started to turn to walk away but he stopped her. "This will not stand. I still have powerful friends in the realm."

"I wonder how long they will be your friends once they hear all I have to say. I think I shall write more letters. Yes, to Highgarden, and Dorne, and one even for Daenerys Targaryen. Soon, the whole realm will know you as the monster you truly are."

"I demand the right to call witnesses in my defense."

She knew he had that right. "Very well. Who?"

"My business partners in King's Landing. They know the truth of my messages."

"That will take time."

"I can wait. Here if I must but I'd prefer…"

"Here," she said. "You will give the names to Ser Davos and if they can be located, we will send for them…as soon as possible."

He started to protest again but she left with his words fading behind her. Outside Tyrion and Ser Davos and Brienne were waiting. Before she had met Baelish she and Tyrion had told Ser Davos and Brienne all they knew of Baelish and his nefarious activities. "Did you tell him it all?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes."

"I wonder if that is a good idea," Ser Davos said.

"Let him stew in it," Tyrion said with some glee. "Let him sweat. Like I did in King's Landing."

"And the trial?" Brienne asked.

"He has asked for witnesses," Sansa told them. "His business partners in King's Landing."

Tyrion chuckled. "Good. Let him rot in a cell for months. That will shake his confidence and his willingness to wait. I bet in a week he is asking for his trial to begin. And then when we find him guilty and sentence him to death I know what he will do."

"What?" Ser Davos asked.

"He will ask for a trial by combat, of course."

"I will be your champion, my lady," Brienne said at once.

That took Sansa aback. "Ah, as you wish. But I don't think it will come to it."

"Oh, it might," said Tyrion. "The question is who will be champion for Baelish."

---

Castle Black – Jon

Jon found Lady Lyanna Mormont with her maester and commanders, sitting at the table they regularly took in the Watch dining hall. Routine had settled over the castle, with certain times of day set for meals for certain groups, with patrols sent out and commanders meetings held at certain times. East and west they went on the Wall and to the south of it and found no sign of the White Walkers or their wights. Nor of any weirwood yet, either.

It was about Longclaw Jon wanted to talk to her about, though he knew not if she knew anything about the sword or the uncle who had given it to him.

As he approached her table they all stood and dipped their heads to him. Jon was still uncomfortable with being called king and being treated in such a way, but he knew he had to act like he was a king.

"My lords, my lady, how are things?"

"Well, Your Grace," said Lady Mormont. "Will you join us?"

"Aye…but it is you I wish to speak to, in private, if I may. Your maester as well."

The other commanders and lords immediately excused themselves and dipped their heads to Jon and their lady. After they were gone he sat opposite Lady Mormont and her maester.

"How may we be of service, Your Grace?" the maester asked.

He got right to the point. "I am wondering if you know anything about the sword named Longclaw that Lady Mormont's uncle Lord Commander Jeor Mormont gave me."

Lady Mormont turned to her maester, who spoke. "The sword was in the Mormont family for five centuries or more, Your Grace."

"How did they come to posses it? Who made it?" he asked.

The maester was at a loss. "I know not. No one knows who made it or how it came to be with the family. The history of the family says they have always lived on Bear Island and the sword has been with them for centuries…until Lord Commander Mormont gave it to you."

Jon felt bad at these words and knew what he had to do. He stood and began to unbuckle the sword belt but Lady Mormont stopped him with a raised hand.

"Your Grace, the sword is yours," she said as she lowered her hand. "My uncle gave it to you for a reason. My cousin Jorah should have been the one to carry the sword, but he dishonored our family and fled Westeros. By giving the sword to you perhaps my uncle hoped to give it some honor again. You have proved yourself worthy of such a blade, Your Grace. It is yours for all time."

Jon nodded. "Thank you, my lady. I only hope I can do it justice."

"You already have. And will again I am sure," she said with a smile. Jon felt good, and wondered why the gods had chosen to give one so young such wisdom and a way with words.

Just then Edd came into the dinning hall and walked straight to him. "Visitors, Jon, from Winterfell."

"Aye? Who is it?"

"Best you come see for yourself."

Just inside the gates was a party of about forty people, all with horses, with some supply wagons as well. Already the men of the Watch and the North were unloading the wagons. Tormund and some his people were nearby eyeing them. But Jon's eye was not on them, it was on her…the red woman, in chains, being helped off her horse. He felt his blood begin to rise, and marched straight for her with Edd and Tormund at his sides. But a tall man with an eye patch stepped in his way.

"King Jon Snow, is it not?" the man asked.

"Aye, I am he," Jon said.

"Lord Beric Dondarrion, Your Grace," the man said with a dip of his head.

Jon knew he had to show courtesy. "Welcome to Castle Black, my lord. This is Eddison Tollett, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. And Tormund, one of the leaders of the free folk."

"Free folk?" Dondarrion said.

"Aye, the free folk," said Tormund with his distinctive growl. "Free to stand on our two feet. Not some prissy knee benders like you lot down south."

"No man is ever truly free," Dondarrion countered. "He either bends to a lord, a god, or his wife."

Tormund laughed in his loud boisterous way. "Aye, maybe to the last one all men must bend," he said.

Dondarrion looked back to Jon. "A letter from your sister, explaining it all," he said as he produced the letter from his furs.

Jon took it, but was still mad. "She could have sent a bird."

"Aye, she could have," Dondarrion agreed. "But I think she wanted me here to explain as well."

Jon looked past him at Melisandre. "Edd, put her in a cell."

"All we got is the ice cells," Edd reminded him, speaking of the hollowed out rooms built under the Wall where they stored food and put men who had to be punished. "She just might melt it and the Wall and all."

"Right. A room then with guards on her door. Bring her food and drink if she asks."

"Jon Snow," Melisandre called out. "We must talk." Jon ignored her as Edd called for three men of the Watch to follow him and they led Melisandre away. He opened Sansa's letter and quickly read it while Dondarrion waited and Tormund stood by his side. Jon looked up at Dondarrion when he finished.

"How much of this is true?"

"I know not what Lady Sansa wrote, but if she claims Melisandre will save us from the demons, then this much I know she saw in her flames."

"Aye, she writes this."

"I have heard you know firsthand the power of the lady and the Lord of Light."

"I have."

"So have I…six times now."

Jon stared at him with awe. "Six times?" he almost gasped.

"Aye…each time harder than the last. Tell me, Jon Snow, when you were on the other side, what did you see?"

"Nothing. There was nothing at all."

"Then you truly have died and have come back. All I saw and felt was blackness, an eternity of nothing…and then…"

"You even felt that fading away?" Jon asked.

"Aye…and was glad, for I wanted to be conscious of my existence no more…but each time the Lord of Light brought me back. She has his power in her to do that…and much more."

"I swore to kill this woman if she came back to the North."

"Might be we need her," said another man, who had been listening nearby. He had faded red robes peeking out from under his furs. "Thoros of Myr, another priest of our Lord," he said with a dip of his head. "I am the fool that brought Lord Beric back all those times."

Jon knew who he was, and Dondarrion as well. "You and your flaming sword were first into the breach at Pyke during the siege," Jon said to Thoros.

"Aye. When I was younger and full of drink more than the Lord's words."

"You both served Lord Stark as well," Jon said next.

"We did," said Dondarrion. "A sad day when we learned your father was dead."

"For all Westeros," added Thoros.

My father died on the Trident almost twenty years ago, Jon wanted to say, but held his tongue. "You must be cold and tired. We will provide rooms and food, though the castle is a bit crowded now."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Dondarrion said. "We have brought our own tents and will make camp wherever is suitable. First, there is more news. Your sister Arya we met on the road in the south."

Jon was taken aback. He knew Arya was alive, from the stories Sansa and Brienne told him, but no one knew where she was now. "When?" he asked.

"Some time ago," Thoros said. "A tale better told over a hot meal and mulled wine."

"Aye…just…" But Jon's words faltered as he caught sight of a tall man with a scarred face. "Is that the Hound?"

"It is," Thoros said and Jon walked straight towards him, with Tormund following.

"Sandor Clegane," Jon said as the Hound was taking a saddle bag off his horse.

He turned around. "Aye. Who the fuck is asking?"

"Jon Snow. Though we never met I saw you at Winterfell years ago."

The Hound grunted. "So, Ned Stark's bastard, the great hero of the North. But it's King Jon Snow now, isn't it? I suppose you want me to get on my knees. Forget it. I'm not here to kiss your and any other lord's pretty ass. I'm here to fight the demons."

Tormund laughed again. "Him I like. Come, new friend. Let us get drunk."

"I am done with getting drunk."

"Then you are truly cursed," said Tormund.

"In more ways than one," the Hound replied. He looked back at Jon. "So, what is it you want?"

"Just to say thank you."

"What for?" he asked, suspicion in his tone.

"For saving Sansa in King's Landing. She told me the story of the riot."

The Hound nodded. "Aye, was a bad day…for those men who tried to rape her. Now if that's all, I'm hungry and tired."

Jon nodded and turned away from the rude man. A gentle giant Jon knew he was not from the stories he had heard of him, but still, he had saved Sansa, so Jon felt obliged to thank him.

Later Thoros and Dondarrion told him all they knew of Arya and events in the south. "Clegane knows more than us about your sister," Thoros told him and explained why.

Jon would see Clegane when he had time. But first he had to deal with the red woman. He went to see Melisandre, with Tormund, Edd, and Lord Royce with him. He did not want to be alone with her. Once in this very castle she had tried to seduce him and he did not think his flesh was not strong enough to stand such again. She sat at a small table in her room, her chained wrists sitting on the table. Jon had gotten the key for the cuffs from Dondarrion. He could see the skin under the cuffs was raw from rubbing though she showed no sign of discomfort. In fact, she seemed content, as she always seemed. Nearby was a hearth with a fire in it but Jon felt more heat from her body than the hearth as he sat across from her. Behind him stood the others and she looked up at them as he sat.

"What I need to say I must say to you alone, Jon Snow."

He shook his head. "These men are my commanders and will know what you say soon enough. Best they hear it from you."

"Very well," she said. "You are all in danger."

Tormund snorted. "Tell us something we don't know, witch."

"From one who is here," she continued. "Your brother, Jon Snow. He is the danger."

"You had better explain that."

"I don't know how, but all I know is I saw him in the flames. Brandon Stark, the wolf boy with a thousand eyes. He is here, yes?"

"I am sure Sansa told you that."

"I knew before I got to Winterfell. I knew he will be the one to cause the Wall to collapse."

Now it was Edd's turn to snort. "The Wall has stood for thousands of years."

"It has," she said. "But as buildings will tumble to dust with time and mountains erode to hills, the Wall will surely fall. Soon."

"When?" Lord Royce asked.

"When they come."

"That is no answer, woman," Tormund growled. "Why is the boy the cause of it?"

"Because he is marked," Jon found himself saying.

Melisandre's eyes widened. "You knew?"

"Aye," he said. "Just a few days past I figured it out. Meera, the girl who traveled with Bran, she told me how he had a…a vision…and in the vision the Night King grabbed his arm. Bran was with another, an old man, a…"

"Greenseer," Melisandre said and now it was time for Jon's eyes to grow wide.

"Aye," he said.

"A man with a thousand eyes," she continued. "Who could see past, present, and future, as your brother can now."

"Only if he is at a weirwood. He must touch the tree or its roots. This time Bran went by himself, and the Night King saw him and touched him. Then when the wights and Walkers attacked the cave the old man lived in that's why they could get through, because the spells were broken, the old man told him. Because Bran was marked by the Night King. And now…"

"Now he is here," she continued. "He has passed under the Wall, and he is marked by the Night King. The Wall's spells are broken, no longer providing protection."

"Aye…so we think," Jon said.

"Bloody hell," said Edd. "You could have told us."

"I wasn't sure."

Lord Royce was skeptical. "But it is still seven hundred feet of ice and rock. How can they destroy it?"

"They need only make a crack, in the right place," Melisandre said. "Then it will fall. This I saw in the flames."

"Your death as well, Sansa wrote," Jon told her.

"Yes…I will die," she said. "When they come, I will stand and stopped them…for a time, while you get the army away."

"Maybe we should get away now," Lord Royce said, worry in his tone.

Jon shook his head. "We don't know if this will come to pass or not. This is the best place to face them if it does. If the Wall falls, I believe it will be only a small breech. We will plug the gap, and fight them while we can secure our flanks."

"You will lose," Melisandre said.

"Better to fight and die here," Jon replied. "Than out in the open in the cold, surrounded and hemmed in. At least we have a chance here. And you have been wrong in the past about your visions…my lady."

He stood and she stopped him. "Am I to live?"

Jon took out the key for the cuffs and tossed it on the table. "For now. You will be confined to this room unless I say otherwise. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my prince."

"He is a king," Lord Royce said to her in stern tones.

She smiled. "No…a prince…who was promised."

Jon hesitated and then left the room with the rest. Maybe she had the answers he sought, but he would not ask for them in front of the others.

As they got outside Lord Royce looked to him. "I will not sacrifice my men here if we have no chance."

"She has been wrong before," Jon said.

"What if she's not?" Edd asked.

Tormund grunted. "Just make sure you take as many of them with you to hell as you can before you die."

---

The Dornish Camp – Ellaria Sand

They dragged the Frey commander before her and put him on his knees. Ellaria Sand rose from her camp chair and stood over him. It was just after dawn, and her forces had just defeated a smaller Frey force in the night by the river's south bank. And across the river in the distance they could see the fires of the city as it consumed itself in an inferno. Already patrols to the Blackwater's edge reported massive numbers of people fleeing, up river and across the river as well, in any boat they could lay their hands on.

Ellaria wanted the city to burn, to cleanse it of all the filth and scum, of Lannisters, the city where her beloved had died, where his sister and her children had died…but she soon learned the Lannisters had fled, Cersei and Jaime with all the rest of the rats.

Almost three weeks they had been camped near here, in the northern Kingswood, waiting for word of Daenerys Targaryen, waiting for the fool Tyrells to rebuild the army they had lost. Weeks with her lords and officers demanding they take action. How, was the question? They had no boats and the bridges were manned by the Lannisters in force. They had defeated the Tyrells, using wildfire they had heard, and she would not send her army against that hell. Not when dragons were coming.

Another reason was she was uncertain of the loyalties of the army. She had murdered their lord and his heir. In Dorne there had been jubilation…and concern. Jubilation that the cautious prince was dead, and action and revenge would be the order of the day. Concern that a bastard daughter of Dorne was now in charge, a woman with no experience of rule, and whose only claim to any title was sharing a bed with Prince Oberyn, though he never married her. All this she heard and all this she knew was true. But she acted, quickly, and soon the concerned voices grew fewer.

Her first step was to make an alliance with the Targaryen girl and the Tyrells. She knew they could not challenge the Lannisters alone. And when Cersei killed the Tyrell lord and his children the opportunity arose for a grand alliance.

March they did, and the people of Dorne cheered them as they did so. The high of leaving soon grew to weariness as it took more than a month to reach the capital region. And then they learned the fool Tyrells had already been beaten and their commander captured. And now…now it was all for naught, as the city burned, and the Lannisters were gone…for now. When patrols first reported the fires, she commanded the army to move north to the river, believing Daenerys had come at last and was attacking the city with her dragons. All they found was a city in chaos, the scent of ash and death on the air, and a small body of Freys that they quickly crushed.

The Frey man was old, stout and bearded, as most of these northerners were. "I am Ellaria Sand, ruler of Dorne. Your name?" she asked, as she looked down on him on his knees, a guard on either side of him. His face had a cut on the left cheek and his surcoat was bloody.

"Lord Stevron Frey, my lady. Lord of the Crossing."

"I thought Walder Frey was Lord of the Crossing."

"He is dead, my lady, foully murdered at his dinner table with two of my younger brothers. Now I am lord of the Twins."

"You are lord of nothing now," Obara snapped from nearby. Her two sisters laughed but went silent as Ellaria gave them a look.

She turned back to Lord Stevron. "Where are the Lannisters?"

"Fled," he said. "West I believe they went, and may the gods curse their souls for what they did this day."

"They abandoned you," said one of her commanders, Lord Anders Yronwood. "Or did they send you across the river to harass us while they got away?"

"Aye, both, my lord," he said. "But we did not know they would flee. We were not privy to any plans to destroy the city. The realm will not curse us for that."

Ellaria laughed. "They already curse your name, Frey. What do they call it? Yes, the Red Wedding. You killed guests under your roof. Your name will be cursed for all time."

"That was Tywin Lannister's doing!"

"Of course," she said. "He made the plans and other men cut the throats. Just like he did when he killed Elia and her children. Where are they going, these Lannisters? Will they turn back and strike us?"

"I know not."

"Then what use are you?" She looked to his guards. "Kill him."

A dagger was at his throat in an instant. "Wait! Casterly Rock…yes, they must be going there."

"Even the stupidest spearman in my ranks could tell me that," Ellaria said. "Cut his throat.'

"A ransom!" Lord Stevron pleaded.

"We want no cursed gold." She nodded to the guards and they killed him on the spot.

"What of the rest of the prisoners?" Lord Yronwood asked as the body was dragged away.

"How many?"

"Maybe five hundred."

"Send them to help with the fires in the city. If any still live when the fires are out, kill them. Our gift to the realm. The less Freys there are the better. Now we march, to the river. Find a way across. We must save what we can and prepare the city for our new Queen…or at least what is left of it."

"What of the Lannisters?" Obara asked.

"They are far away. But there is no place for them to run to except Casterly Rock. When our Queen's dragons arrive, we will set their own home on fire. Then they will reap what they have sown here and in the past. And vengeance shall be ours."