Game of Thrones Season 7 Chapter 10
Oldtown – Samwell
Sam had not been imagining things when he thought he had someone following him. Now he was certain, and he was even more certain the one following him was an old nemesis of his, Leo Tyrell.
He had not known Leo was a student at the Citadel until he started taking lessons. Sam had just sat down in a class on astronomy when he heard the voice from his childhood.
"A fat whale dressed in black. Gods, what has this place come to if they accept the likes of that?"
Sam turned as laughter filled the room. There he was, Lazy Leo, or so Sam's father had started calling him. Born to wealth and with the good looks of most of the Tyrells, Leo had done little with what the gods had given him. Before he was sent off to the Night's Watch, Sam had heard Leo's father was despairing of him. The stories that came to Horn Hill were of a young man who liked his drink and girls, and gambled away whatever coin his father had given him.
But it was the memories of childhood that came back to Sam in a flood. The pale though handsome face and locks of blond hair that had stood over Sam in the practice yard as he cried his eyes out after Leo had knocked him down in a duel. That was when his father had still trying to turn him into a man.
"Leo Tyrell," Sam said that day in the classroom and the youth's eyes narrowed as he stared at Sam.
"Sam Tarly," he said, his cruel mouth twisted in a slight sneer as he finally recognized Sam. "Now I know this place is going to the dogs. Fat Sam Tarly, a craven who cried when I barely hit him with a tourney sword. I thought you had gone to the Wall and been killed. Or is that what your father wished for?"
The novices around Leo laughed again, though Sam noticed one who didn't, a dark skinned, dark-eyed slim youth dressed in brown breeches and a green top, with a tight mass of curly black hair on his head. Sam immediately thought he was from Dorne and when he spoke he was even surer.
"Are you from the Nights' Watch?" the dark-eyed youth asked him. Sam later learned his name was Alleras.
"Yes, I just came from the Wall to train as a maester."
"Gods, Tarly," said Leo. "Don't you know they hang deserters from the Night's Watch?"
"Lord Commander Snow ordered me to come here," Sam said, trying to sound confident. "I am to take Maester Aemon's place."
"Aemon Targaryen?" Alleras asked.
"Yes," Sam said. "He died a while ago."
"We heard," another novice replied in a sad tone.
"He was the oldest man in Westeros," said Alleras. "Did you know him well?"
"Yes, I was his assistant," Sam said and then before they could talk anymore the archmaester who taught astronomy came into the room and the lesson began.
That had been weeks ago, and much had happened since. His brother had died, his father had been captured by the Lannisters, and his mother and sister had returned to Horn Hill to await Dickon's remains so he could have a proper funeral. His mother had begged Sam to come home as well, to become the man of the house until their father could be ransomed, but Sam insisted he could not break his vows. His mother did not understand, and her anger was only dwarfed by her tears. His sister was more understanding.
"You will always have a place in Horn Hill, despite what father says," she told Sam before they left.
"I know. But my place is here, and at the Wall with the only brothers I have now."
She smiled slightly. "You finally found a place in the world. But what about Gilly and the baby? What will the men of the Watch do if you return north with them?"
Sam had worried on that. Men of the Watch had tried to rape her and had beaten him badly. With Jon no longer Lord Commander, he might be targeted again. But he also knew Edd would protect him, and those who had tormented him the worst were now all dead.
"They'll be fine," he said.
"Maybe they should stay with us."
"Father won't like that."
"Mother will persuade him. Now that…that Dickon is gone…maybe he will raise baby Sam to be his heir."
"You think he would?" Sam asked, a bit hopeful.
"If Mother has her way he will."
"What about you? You are heir now, aren't you?"
She sighed. "Yes, and it will be a curse if I do inherit."
Sam was confused. "Why a curse?"
"Women are always expected to marry. And if I inherit every man who only wants our land and gold will promise me his love until I say the vows and he can claim it all as his as my husband."
"Surely there is some man with a good heart who will marry you."
She smiled a bit. "Maybe. But if I am heir to Horn Hill I will always wonder where his heart truly lies. No, better if baby Sam is heir. He must come to Horn Hill and be raised to be a lord and gentleman."
"But I promised Gilly we would never be separated again. I love her."
"That's grand…but what kind of life will they have? You can't live with her and the baby. You can never marry her, and always the threat will be there at the Wall. They can send her away at any time…and what can you do?"
"My friend Edd is Lord Commander now," Sam replied. "That won't happen."
"But what if he dies?"
Sam had no answer to that, for he knew she was right about everything. They were leaving the next morning so that night he spoke to Gilly in their bedroom in the apartment as the baby slept in the crib nearby. "Maybe you and baby Sam should go…"
"No," she said right away before he could finish. "We won't be separated again. You promised."
"I know…but in Horn Hill you will be safe…and so will Sam. At the Wall I can't look after you."
"I lived all my life north of the Wall," she told him. "We will survive."
"You lived with your father and sisters, not alone with a baby. What about the White Walkers and wights being everywhere?"
That gave her pause. "But…what about you? If we go to Horn Hill you'll be all alone here and then when you go back to the Wall."
"I'll be fine."
"You always say that. You won't be fine." Then her eyes lit up. "You can come with us! All of us can live at Horn Hill."
"I can't. I'm a man…"
"Of the Watch. I know, but they aren't here. Jon Snow is King of the North now you said. He can make sure they never come after you."
"The King is supposed to help the Watch catch deserters."
She had no answer to that. "Sam…what will happen if we go to Horn Hill and your father comes home?"
"You let me and my mother worry about that. Maybe…maybe my father will make baby Sam his heir now…now my brother is dead."
"Baby Sam…heir?" Then she lowered her voice. "But…what if they find out the truth some day? What if they know…?"
"Ssssh," he said quickly. "We don't think on it, we don't talk about it. Ever. Not even to Sam when he is older. No one must ever know. He is my son and that is all there is to it. And maybe someday he will be Lord Tarly."
She hugged him tight and cried out. "I just don't want to lose you."
"You won't. I promise."
Gilly pulled back and wiped her eyes and finally nodded. "We will go to Horn Hill."
"I'm sorry."
She sighed. "Will we ever see you again?"
"Yes, I…hope," he said. He was going to say 'I promise' but he knew he couldn't. After his training he would have to go back to the Wall…and only the gods knew what would happen to him there.
In the morning they told his mother and sister the news and they were happy for this one small bit of joy. And then his mother had one more surprise, something she had already planned. An older man came to the apartments, and in his leather bag he had parchment, ink, and a quill. He was a notary, who made legal documents for people.
"Sam," his mother began. "I know you and Gilly are not married...and may never be. But if you want baby Sam to grow up as a Tarly, you must make him your son in the eyes of men and the gods."
The notary produced a parchment that said Sam acknowledged the baby as his and which gave the baby all rights as a son of the Tarly family. He would no longer be considered a bastard and would even stand to inherit someday, if Lord Tarly agreed.
Sam had a bad thought. "Father won't like this."
"You never mind what he will or won't like," his mother replied. "I will make him see this is the right thing to do."
Sam took up the quill, dipped it in ink, and signed his name. He had no sigil stamp so he put his right thumbprint in ink next to his name. The notary then affixed his signature and his sigil stamp in melted wax. His mother paid the notary and then the man left them.
"There, that settles all that," his mother said. "Now don't you worry on anything. Study hard, and find the answers you are looking for. Every day we will pray for you and light a candle in the sept."
After many tears and hugs goodbye, Sam saw them off, riding in a carriage with a wagon behind them with their baggage and the three servants that had come from Horn Hill. Gilly leaned out the carriage window and looked back at him one last time and then touched her fingers to her rosy lips and blew him a farewell kiss.
Sam felt an ache in his heart after they were gone, but the following days went by with Sam busy as he had ever been, so that eased the pain somewhat. Each day he studied and each night he read the old reports from the Wall in library. He tried to talk to Jon again a few times with the candle but Jon never answered.
The day after he had talked to Jon he went to the library to begin a new search, about Azor Ahai and Lightbringer. But he couldn't ask the maester in charge of the library. Archmaester Marwyn's warning was vivid in his mind. 'One morning they will find you face down in the river…or worse'. Sam didn't want to think what 'worse' meant.
After a few days searching through the many rows of bookshelves he found nothing to point him in the right direction. On the day Gilly and his mother and sister went back to Horn Hill Sam left the library in the late afternoon, disappointed again. How could he help Jon know if he was the true prince or not or find the sword Lightbringer? Then he had a sudden thought. There was only one other place he could look, Marwyn's rooms.
Sam was panting with breath when he reached the top of the stairs to Marwyn's rooms. The sound of the white ravens quorking above was loud as usual. The white ravens had been sent out to warn the realm of approaching winter but now they were all back. Sam thought it was a bit of a waste to keep all these ravens here for years with nothing to do but fly out once winter was beginning. He would have said such to the archmaester teaching them about ravenry, but he knew not to draw anymore attention to himself now.
In the rooms the tall obsidian candle still burned and gave off light. Sam thought to take it to his apartments in town but then remembered Marwyn's warning to leave it here. Sam looked around and found many books and scrolls and to his surprise many dealt with the topic of the White Walkers and with the prophecy of the prince that was promised. He wondered why Marwyn had not told him this but in his haste to leave perhaps he forgot.
Long into the night he read until his eyes tired. It all seemed a waste for nothing new he learned. But he had only read a bit of the collection and so knew he had to return the next night. Climbing up and down the stairs was tiring so Sam decided to take a few books with him and filled an old backpack he found. As he was about to leave he stood in front of the candle, closed his eyes and thought of Jon and Castle Black. He said Jon's name a few times…but nothing happened.
Sam locked the door and started down the long stairs, then outside he went across the bridge over the Honeywine River and left the Citadel. It was dark and a bit of a chill was in the air, unusual this far south, but maybe not now winter was coming for certain.
As he walked through the streets suddenly he heard a noise of laughter behind him and Sam turned and saw a man half a block away, lurching out of a tavern on unsteady feet.
"Get out you bum!" the tavern keeper shouted as the man fell in the street. Sam was about to go back to help him, when he saw someone in the shadows step quickly back. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a hint of a colorful cape, like the one Leo Tyrell wore. Sam forgot about the man in the gutter and quickly turned around and almost ran all the way back to his now empty apartment.
Over the next few days he thought he saw Leo several times behind him or in the hall ways of the Citadel, as if he had just passed by or went into a doorway when Sam turned around. Of course, they had many classes together, so maybe he was just coming or going from the same place as Sam at the same time.
Sam began to fear for his life, as Marwyn had warned. If Leo was following him, then it must have been the elderly archmaesters who put him up to it. With Gilly gone and Jon out of touch, he had no one to tell of his fears…except one person. The dark-eyed, slim youth in his classes named Alleras.
"I am sure it isn't Leo," Alleras said as they ate lunch in a large hall in the Citadel. They were seated alone, with the other novices busy taking different classes. Not everyone studied everything at the same time, and each novice had strengths and weakness which the archmaesters tried to improve on so they could earn a metal link for their chain. Sam, for example, had much knowledge about ravens after his experiences at Castle Black so he was quickly assigned to learn more about ravenry. Alleras already had a few links, and was sure to soon earn more as he was one of the best students.
"Maybe it's not him," Sam admitted for he had never gotten a clear look at who was following him. Alleras knew why Sam was afraid, and they talked at length on the White Walker problem, and about his experience beyond the Wall, and the archmaesters reaction to Sam's stories.
"They are fools not to listen to you," Alleras said, getting a bit angry.
"What could they do even if they believed me?"
"Act! Do…something! Instead of sitting here as if the world outside these walls mattered not at all."
Sam leaned closer. "Marwyn is already doing something…he has gone to find Daenerys Targaryen."
Alleras looked about to make sure no one was nearby. "You must never tell anyone this. Already they have being asking questions about him. They think he has gone to see his ill father in the Stormlands. If they know the truth, they will try to find him and stop him."
"What should I do?"
Alleras stood, and picked up his wooden tray with the now empty dishes on them. "You must keep reading, Sam. You must find out who the prince is…and where Lightbringer is, before it is too late."
Sam knew he was right and so the daily search continued. He already suspected Jon was the prince but he couldn't tell anyone this secret. He returned to Marwyn's rooms every night and now he took no more books away but read them there. He also tried to contact the archmaester and Jon with the candle but had no more success.
And then one night he found something in an old scroll...a story about what happened to Brandon the Builder and Azor Ahai after the White Walkers were defeated.
Brandon Stark fell in love with a northern woman and started a family. He raised a small castle over a hot spring and called it Winterfell. Azor Ahai served as commander of the order of men that came to be called the Night's Watch. Under his command they raised the Wall higher and protected the realm for decades. After long years Azor Ahai retired and Lord Stark invited him to spend his last years at Winterfell. There in his eighty-second year Azor Ahai passed at last to be joined in death with his beloved. In his grief at the loss of his friend Brandon built a stone likeness of Azor Ahai and buried him under the statue in the crypts under the castle.
Sam was astounded at the tale. Azor Ahai was buried at Winterfell…and maybe his sword was as well! No one knew. No, Archmaester Marwyn must know, for this was his scroll…but it was one of many and maybe he never had time to read it.
Sam looked at the obsidian candle, closed his eyes, and said, "Archmaester Marwyn" aloud…once, twice, three times…and this time he got an answer.
"Yes, Sam. I am here," said the Archmaester and Sam suddenly felt like he was in a small room lit only by a candle on a stand by a bed. Marwyn was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed as he was the last time Sam had seen him.
"Archmaester," Sam said in surprise. "Where are you?"
"A small inn on the road to King's Landing," he replied.
"You are going to King's Landing?"
"Yes, Daenerys Targaryen is there now. I must speak to her. What news of your research?"
Sam quickly told him what he found. "Interesting," Marwyn said. "I must have missed that story. Perhaps the sword has been in Winterfell all this time."
"There is more," Sam said and then he told him all about what Jon said in his letter and the conversation they had about his birth and what it could mean.
Marwyn was electrified by this news and stood up and began pacing. "I must get to the Queen immediately," he suddenly said. He put on his cloak and picked up his walking stick and backpack and then looked back at Sam. "Try to speak to Jon Snow again, tell him what you know of the sword's possible location. Take the scroll with you. Tomorrow I should be in King's Landing. Contact me again."
"I will," Sam said and then Marwyn walked out the door of his room.
He tried to contact Jon right away but again had no luck so decided to return the next night. But when he returned the next night everything was undone. When he arrived at the door to Marwyn's chambers in the light of a whale oil lantern he carried he saw the door was broken open, the wood around the lock shattered as if by several axe blows. In a rush he ran into the room. Inside all was a wreck. Everything was a mess, the table and chairs overturned, and every scroll and book and paper was gone. And so was the tall obsidian candle.
"You should have stopped looking long ago," said Leo Tyrell from the doorway just after Sam turned over the table and put his lantern on it.
"Leo…did you do this?" Sam asked in anger as he spun around.
Leo laughed in his sneering way. "Me? I don't give a care for what you do, Sam. They did it."
"You were following me."
"I was…I am."
"Why?"
"They asked me to. I said no, not my problem. So they threatened to kick me out. You know what I said?"
Sam could guess. "You told them you were a Tyrell." He was in truth from a minor branch of the Tyrell family, but he was still part of a powerful family.
"Yes…and they said that didn't matter. They said my father had written to them. They said they knew what my father had said to me before I left home. If I failed here, I was to never come home again and would be cut off from my family."
"Sounds like your father and my father are alike in many ways," Sam said.
"Maybe. So I followed you and told them what you were doing. Very boring, if you ask me. I always thought Archmaester Marwyn was a bit odd, and you a weakling and a coward, and neither a danger to anything or anyone. But they think you are. You kept asking questions and looking where you shouldn't…and so today they finally decided to deal with the 'Sam Tarly problem' as they call it."
"I won't stop asking, I won't stop looking."
"I know. So do they."
There was the sound of metal scraping on leather and only now in the dim light of the lantern Sam had placed on the table did he notice that Leo was armed. A thin blade was in his right hand. He pointed it at Sam.
"Outside, now. Take the lantern."
"Leo…what are you doing?" Sam asked, trying to sound brave as a man of the Watch should be.
"Making my chain. They said if I do this I will be given an easy passage through these halls. In less than a year I will be a maester. Not the life I wanted but it will provide me with the things I need to have an easy life. And my father will make sure I am not left out of his will."
"Maesters abandon all family ties when they make their chain. You can't inherit."
"Yes, but I am a Tyrell after all, and my father will make sure there is something for me. All I have to do is make my chain…and to do that I have to do what they asked me to do."
"Do what?" Sam asked in a weak voice, almost a squeak, for he knew what the answer was before he had asked.
"Take care of you. Step out here."
Sam gulped and felt as if he was about to piss his breeches. He had no weapon as his sword was back in his apartment. The archmaesters frowned upon students carrying weapons in the Citadel, for maesters were not men of war. However, many novices had some weapons training. Alleras was an expert with the bow, and Sam and the other novices had seen him demonstrate this several times. As for Leo, he was well known as a fine swordsman.
But Sam was not the same boy who had near pissed himself when the White Walkers had attacked the Fist of the First Men. He had killed a Walker, and a Thenn, and he had a woman and a son and a mother and sister to worry on now, and all that gave him the bravery he needed to act, to overcome this boy who had once tormented him in a training yard and caused him such shame. With one swift move he picked up the lantern and threw it at Leo Tyrell.
The hot lantern struck Leo's sword arm and he yelled, dropped the sword, and leaped back as it fell to the floor. The lantern cracked open and whale oil spilled out across the old rugs Marwyn had on his floors and caught fire. Sam hardly noticed for he was moving, his huge bulk leaping over the fire and slamming into Leo. Back they went, into the wooden railing on the landing that looked over the deep, dark stairwell, a hundred feet or more of empty space. The wooden railing cracked, but did not break.
As the quorking of the white ravens above them grew stronger Sam's hands came up and grabbed Leo by the throat…or at least he tried. Leo was stronger, and he pushed Sam back and then his right foot came up and caught Sam square in the privates. Sam yelled and buckled and felt like he was going to be sick as he fell to his knees on the floor.
Leo grabbed him by the front of his cloak and picked him up. "Goodbye, Fat Sam," he said with a sneer as he pushed Sam back towards the cracked railing. And then something flashed by Sam at eye level and as if by magic a long arrow sprouted from Leo's left eye. He grunted once, let go of Sam, and fell dead to the stair landing floor.
"Sam!" Alleras shouted as he rushed up the stairs, his huge bow in hand. "Are you all right?"
"Yes,…I think."
"The fire!"
Sam turned around and saw the fire was spreading, reaching out towards Leo's body. The old rugs in Marwyn's rooms were on fire, and now a wooden bookcase as well, and soon the rest would be going up. It was already too big to put out and the smoke was getting thicker.
"Let's go!" Alleras said in a rush, grabbing Sam by the cloak.
"What about the ravens? The other people!"
Alleras hesitated and then nodded. "The ravens first!"
Up the nearby stone steps they raced into the white raven rookery. They began to open cages and almost at once the ravens flew out the open windows, as smoke poured up into the rookery, the birds' survival instincts sending them fleeing.
"Time to go!" Alleras shouted and once more they raced downstairs, the smoke almost choking them. Already people were on the stairs, some running up, to see what was happening.
"It's too late," Sam shouted to them. "It's too big!"
"We must fight the fire!" a maester said. "The ravens! We must…"
"We saved them," Alleras told the maester. "They are all gone. Let's go before we suffocate!"
Now they raced down the stairs and more people were coming out of rooms and following them. They pounded on every door and checked many rooms and Sam hoped they got everyone.
Outside they stood for a few moments, looking up at the fire and smoke, as more people came running.
"We must go, Sam," Alleras said quietly, and they slipped away in the confusion. In a short time they were at Sam's apartment.
"We can't stay in Old town," Alleras told him. "They will soon be looking for us, asking questions."
"Leo tried to kill me," Sam told him.
"I know…I was following him."
"Then you heard what he said?"
"No…all I saw was him trying to push you over the railing…so I killed him."
"Thanks. In truth he was doing it for the archmaesters. Because of what I am looking for."
"I guess we will never be maesters now."
Sam felt a bit sad about that, but after what he knew of the Citadel he was glad he was leaving. "Where will we go?"
"North," Alleras said. "We must find Marwyn."
"I know where he is going."
"Good. Do you have any money?"
"Yes, plenty. My mother left it when she went home."
"We need to buy some horses. I know where there is a stable. Let's take as much food as we can. Hurry. Soon they will come here. And then the questions will begin, about Leo, and the fire."
In a short time they had packed all they could and made their way to a stable. Sam now had his sword again and he felt better with it on him. Through the dark streets they walked. Sam felt something wet touch his face and then he looked up. More wetness he felt, gentle, unlike rain drops, and he knew it was snow.
"Snow…here," Sam said. "Winter is truly upon us."
Alleras laughed. "What's funny?" Sam asked.
"I've never seen snow before."
"Where we are going you will soon be sick of it."
"You said you know where Marwyn is now," Alleras said. "How?"
"The candle that was in his room…I used it to talk to him yesterday. He said Daenerys Targaryen is in King's Landing. That's where he is going. And we must go there, too."
King's Landing – Dany
The Oldtown archmaester was asking for her again, Ser Jorah told Dany. Three times in two days he had come to the gates of the Red Keep asking for her, saying he had something of great importance to share but he would not tell anyone but her. Dany was in the room they used for small council meetings, a small room near the kitchens, as the old small council room was in a shambles. She had some masons working on repairing the Red Keep, but priority was for the city and making shelter for the people, so she would have to make do with what rooms were available for now.
With her were Varys, Missandei, the Greyjoys, Ellaria, and Ser Jorah. "Maybe he really has something to tell us," Varys said. "Why else would he travel so far in such weather?"
"Very well," Dany said. "Theon, please send word to bring him here."
"Aye, Your Grace," Theon said as he stood and went to the doors and told the guards to send word to bring the archmaester here. Theon then returned to his seat.
"You shouldn't see him alone, Your Grace," Yara said. "I wouldn't trust any of the grey mice, especially not after what that Qyburn did here."
"Tales we've heard of his ways," added Theon. "The things he did to people in his chambers, and how he kept Gregor Clegane alive. It's not natural."
"Maesters are supposed to heal and advise, not try to act like the gods," Ellaria added.
"He was not a maester," Varys told them. "Oh, he trained as one, but he was thrown out of the Citadel for his odd ways."
"Qyburn is dead now, so we do not need to worry on him," Ser Jorah reminded them.
"Still don't trust any of them," Yara added. "Few lords in the Iron Islands ever had one. Our father did, but only to mind the ravens. But he never trusted him."
"We need them," Dany reminded her council. "They heal, and have much knowledge that is useful. But let us put that aside for now. What news have you learned?"
Ser Jorah spoke. "Lord Tarly is bringing his army up the Kingsroad but the snow is slowing them. The last of the Lannister army has finally reached the city. They are camped north of the Gate of the Gods, astride the Kingsroad, far away from any civilian camps."
"Good," said Dany. "We do not want any unrest if the people try to seek revenge on the Lannisters."
Ellaria scowled. "Maybe we should give the people a few Lannisters to satisfy their desire for revenge. I know of one I won't miss."
Varys tittered. "Oh, they would love to have Lord Jaime's head on a spike. But soon Cersei will be here and I am sure the people would rather have her head if they can only have one Lannister."
"We must be cautious when Cersei arrives here," Dany said. "I do not want any riots, any unfortunate…accidents. She will be tried and then punished."
"Why try her?" Yara asked. "We all know she is guilty."
"We should just hang her and be done with it, Your Grace," Theon said.
Dany shook her head. "We will do things the proper way. I will not start my reign with blood lust."
"Agreed," said Ser Jorah. "But it may be some time before she gets here, with the snows blocking the roads west."
"And north as well," Yara said. "Daario's patrol reported back this morning, Your Grace. There is no way to get up the Kingsroad until the snows abate somewhat."
"By sea we should go," Ellaria suggested and Theon quickly agreed.
"We have the ships," he said. "We can make small voyages. First to Duskendale, then White Harbor. Ten days at the most and we will be in the North."
"If the weather holds," his sister said with a look of scolding to her brother. "One storm and all will be lost."
Theon shrugged. "The will of the Drowned God. If we are afraid to sail we will never get to the North."
Ser Jorah spoke. "Even if we make it to White Harbor, it is difficult to go overland from there to Winterfell."
Before anymore discussion could take place, the guards announced the archmaester was here. "Show him in," Dany said.
He was a short, squat man, with a huge head and jaw, dark of hair and eye, and with massive hands holding a walking stick. He wore a travel stained cloak over furs and breeches, and didn't wear the grey robes of a maester. Around his neck was a heavy chain with many links in it.
With two guards behind him he stood by the table and dipped his head to Dany. "Your Grace, I am Archmaester Marwyn of Oldtown."
"Welcome, Archmaester. I am Daenerys Targaryen. And these are…"
"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," the Archmaester said before she could. "Ellaria Sand of Dorne, now called Princess Ellaria. Theon and Yara Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. And Lord Varys, whose reputation is known throughout the realm." His eyes fell on Missandei. "You, my child, you I do not know. You are not from Westeros."
"I am Missandei, the Queen's interpreter," she said. "I come from Essos."
"So, you know who we are," said Dany. "But who are you?"
"A simple maester," Marwyn replied. "But I have news of great importance…for your ears only, Your Grace."
"These are my advisors…I trust them with anything you tell me."
He turned around and started for the door. Dany was so shock by this rudeness she said nothing for a moment and then found her voice. "Where are you going?"
"To wait for you to come to your senses," he said without turning around. "I will return on the morrow and see if you truly understand the danger you are all in."
Ser Jorah was already moving towards the door and grabbed the archmaester by the arm and spun him around. "Men have lost their heads over speaking in such a way to royalty in the past."
"They have," said Marwyn. "Do what you must, ser, but I will speak to no one but the Queen on these matters." His eyes fell over them all again. "None of you I trust with this news. If she wishes to share it afterwards, that is her decision."
Ser Jorah still held his arm, and her two guards had their hands on their sword hilts. Dany finally spoke. "Let him go. Everyone…please leave us."
"Your Grace, he…" Ser Jorah began but she cut him off.
"I will be fine. Please leave."
"Not before I search him," Jorah said. He looked over the archmaester, and opened his backpack, and checked his body for weapons. He had none but his walking stick. Jorah took that and his backpack. "We will be outside the door," he told her.
"Not to worry," Marwyn said. "I will not harm her, ser."
In a few moments they were alone. Dany stood by her chair and he stood at the far end of the table. "Now, what is all this about?"
"The White Walkers, they…"
"We know. They exist, and may attack the Wall. Your news is old I am afraid."
"Old, I see. But what have you done about it?"
"Nothing. We have been dealing with other enemies, and now the snows keep us here. If that is all, you can go."
"No, that is not all, Your Grace. What do you know of Jon Snow?"
"I know he took his army to the Wall."
"What do you know of his parentage?"
The question took Dany aback. "I…I only know he was called Ned Stark's bastard."
"A lie…or at least the omission of a truth," Marwyn told her. "Jon Snow is indeed a Stark, but he did not sprout from the loins of Ned Stark. He was born of Ned Stark's sister, Lyanna Stark, in a place called the Tower of Joy in Dorne at the end of Robert's Rebellion."
Dany felt weak suddenly and gripped the back of the chair. "Lyanna Stark is Jon Snow's mother?"
"Yes. Ned Stark took the baby as she lay dying from blood loss in childbirth. He claimed the boy as his, called him Jon, and raised him as his bastard son. All to protect the boy from Robert's anger. Robert swore to kill anyone with the blood of your family."
"The blood…of my family?" Dany said in a bare whisper. "Lyanna Stark was his mother but she is a Stark. So…who was his father?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Your brother, Rhaegar Targaryen."
"That's…possible," she replied. She sat down and pointed to a chair and he sat also. "Tell me how you know all this."
So he told her a tale, of Sam Tarly getting a letter from Jon Snow, and what Jon said. Of Brandon Stark, and a strange power he had to see into the past, to see events, and how he saw Jon Snow's birth those many years ago.
When done he explained what it meant, though she knew already. "All the realm knows your brother kidnapped Lyanna Stark, Your Grace. He took her…but what if she went willingly? What if it was love that tore the realm apart, not lust?"
"As I always suspected," Dany replied. "All the stories I heard of my brother suggest he was not a cruel man. He loved to sing and write poetry and play the silver harp. He wanted to read books, not carry a sword into battle."
"I never knew him, but maybe it was so. If all this is true, there are other implications."
"Jon Snow may be my nephew, you mean?"
"For one. And then there is the prophecy?"
"What prophecy?"
Again he spoke at length, about the fabled Azor Ahai, and his sword called Lightbringer, and a story that Sam found in a scroll in Oldtown.
"You think Jon Snow is this Azor Ahai?"
"Either he is…or you are."
That shocked her. "Me? But I am a woman."
"Prophecy is a fickle thing, Your Grace. This particular one was written over a thousand years ago. No one knows how many times its has changed since then. The wording as we have now says 'from the seed of the dragon lords will come the prince who was promised'…but maybe it never said prince, maybe it once said 'the one who was promised'. And you fit much of the signs of the one who was promised. You were born on Dragonstone during one of the greatest storms to ever strike Westeros…born of salt of the sea waves crashing on shore, and of the smoke of Dragonstone's volcano. You are the last true Targaryen, with pure blood, a dragon rider like the lords and ladies of the past."
Dany had never suspected she was part of a prophecy and was having a hard time believing it. "How can we know for sure who it is?"
"Go, to Winterfell. If the sword is there, find it. If you can wield it, if its power responses to you, then we will know."
Her head was awhirl with all he said. "Winterfell? But the snow…the armies can't get up the Kingsroad."
"You can fly a dragon, can you not?"
"All the way to Winterfell?"
"Yes…now…before it is too late."
It was already too late, for that very afternoon came a raven from Winterfell with the dire news.
"The Wall has fallen," she told her small council after they were hastily called back to the Red Keep. Marwyn was seated with them and as of yet she had not told anyone what he had said to her, despite them asking.
They were too stunned to speak for a moment and then Ser Jorah spoke. "How?"
"It does not say," she said as she handed the raven scroll to him and then it went around the room.
Varys asked the most important question. "What of Jon Snow's army?"
"In retreat, towards Winterfell," Dany told them. "Jon Snow still lives, as far as they know."
When the scroll reached Marwyn he sighed and looked pleased. "This is from Lord Brandon Stark. He lives and is at Winterfell. Good."
"Why is that good?" Ellaria asked him in suspicion. "And why, Your Grace, is this man here?"
"He has valuable information, which I must now share with you." So she spoke, and Marwyn spoke as well, and told all they knew and suspected. Dany had decided to tell them later, but it seemed she must do it now…or they would never let her do what she had to do.
When he was done all sat in silence. Theon was more shocked than any of them, for he had grown up with Jon Snow and always knew him as Ned Stark's bastard son. "Jon Snow is a Targaryen?"
"Maybe," Dany said. "But all evidence points to this conclusion."
Ellaria was not ready to believe it. "A story, told to you about a boy's visions. How do we know there is any truth to this?"
"We don't," Dany said, looking at Marwyn. "But I am ready to take it on faith. To ignore it is to court disaster."
"Do you really believe one of you is the one?" Jorah asked her.
"I don't know…nothing is certain."
"I have heard this story before," said Varys. "Of the prince who was promised. And all tales say it is a man…a prince…not a princess…or a queen."
"Bloody men," Yara cursed. "Why can't it be a woman?"
"It is either her or Jon Snow," said Marwyn. "There is no other."
"That is why I must go to Winterfell. At once."
"Aye," said Theon as he stood. "I will see to the fleet."
"No," Dany said. "We will not go by sea. There is no time."
"But Your Grace, it is the fastest way," Theon protested.
"Not the fastest," said Ser Jorah. "Khalessi…you said 'I' must go to Winterfell. How?"
"By dragon."
"Alone?" he asked.
"No…I must take someone with me. I cannot make the trip in one flight, it is too far. I must stop and rest and have a place to fed my dragons."
"In this weather between here and Winterfell there are only three places where you can do that," said Varys.
"Aye," said Ser Jorah. "Harrenhal, the Twins, and Moat Cailin."
"The first two the Lannisters and Freys control," Yara reminded them.
"I know," she said. "That is why someone must come with me, someone to tell the garrison of Harrenhal and the Twins we are now all allies."
"Not him," Jorah said at once, knowing who she meant. "We sent ravens. They must have gotten the news by now."
"And if they did not?" Dany asked. In this weather there was no certainty that the ravens got through and Harrenhal and the Twins were two places they had not heard back from yet. "I could be flying into a trap. I may be able to destroy them, but I need allies, not enemies, and my dragons will need food. He must come with me."
They argued and pleaded with her but she could not be dissuaded. An hour later and she was at the Lannister camp with a strong guard, including Daario and Ser Jorah.
"Are you mad?" Lord Jaime asked after she told him what she planned to do. They were in his command pavilion with all his commanders present.
"Maybe. But the White Walkers have broken through the Wall and are marching on Winterfell as we speak."
That shook him and his commanders. "Then it is too late," he said.
"No…not if my dragons can reach Winterfell before they do. I need you to come with me."
"The people of Winterfell hate me as much as you do. The Starks want my head."
"Then come only as far as the Twins. After that I should be safe on my own."
He looked at her and then shook his head. "No."
"Good," said Ser Jorah. "He cannot be trusted khalessi. I will go with you."
"You didn't let me finish, ser," Jaime said. "I said 'no' to her suggested I stay at the Twins. If the war is to be at Winterfell that is where I will go. It is time to face my demons…more than one in this case, for my brother and I have much to discuss."
"Then it is settled," Dany said.
"Not yet," he said. "I would ask one thing."
"What?"
"My sister is not to be tried or…anything else…until I have a chance to speak to her."
"Agreed," Dany said.
"When do we leave?"
"Now."
"Now?" Jaime said in surprise.
"Yes. Time is fleeting. We must reach Winterfell before the White Walkers. If we don't, all of Westeros may be lost."
Winterfell – Bran
The crypts under Winterfell were dark and dank, with a bit of water on the floor now. Bran and Rickon had once hid here, with Osha, when the ironmen had attacked Winterfell. It had been dryer then, but now that seemed like a lifetime ago. Now Osha and Rickon were both dead. Bran had come here to see his brother's final resting place. Sansa, Arya, Meera, and Gendry came as well, with some guards carrying lanterns. One of the guards also carried a chair.
They walked down the stairs, with Gendry carrying Bran again. At the first level they stopped. Bran knew that there were two more levels under here, but he had never been down there. A long tunnel extended from the stairway, and on both sides were the statues representing many of the rulers of the long Stark history, each one of a Lord Stark who had ruled, many with a stature of a direwolf sitting beside them, and iron swords in all their hands. All the statues were of Stark rulers…except for two.
"Lyanna," Arya said as they reached the third statue from the end on the left side. The statue of Lyanna Stark had no direwolf or sword in hand, but was of a tall slim woman looking as if she was watching something from far away. "Was she truly Jon's mother?" Arya asked.
"Yes," said Bran. After telling them he needed the sword Lightbringer and why, he had to explain all about Jon's true parents. "I saw it all."
"Poor Father," Sansa said as they reached the second last statue. There was the likeness of their father, his strong features carved in stone, with a direwolf by his side, which looked somewhat like Grey Wind. "He had to watch his sister die, and then he had to lie all those years about Jon. He could never tell anyone."
"My father knew," said Meera. "He kept the secret as well."
"A terrible thing," said Sansa. "Mother…she died without knowing. All those years…she thought Jon was Father's son. How she hated Jon…all for nothing."
"He had to lie," said Arya. "King Robert would have taken revenge on Jon."
"Was my father so cruel?" Gendry asked. "Would he kill a baby?"
"Yes," said Meera. "He would not have done it himself, I think. But someone would have. My father said for years Robert had agents looking for Daenerys Targaryen and her brother, when they were just small children."
They were silent for a few moments and then Bran realized something. "Robb should be here as well," Bran said. "He was a ruler of the North."
"Give the command and it will be done," Sansa said.
"Yes, let it be done," he replied. Then he thought of something else. "Did Father's bones ever come home?"
"They did," Sansa told him. "When I came back, I was told that Lord Baelish gave them to Mother and she sent them home."
"Good," Bran said.
Finally they came to the last statue, of a boy, taller than he remembered. "Please put me down," Bran told Gendry.
"Yes, my lord," he said as the guard rushed forward with the chair. Bran sat, holding onto the chair's arms to keep himself steady. He stared at the statue of his brother and then he sighed. "Why did he kill him?"
"Because he was a monster," Sansa said, and then she let out a small gasp. "Poor little Rickon…he never hurt anyone. And that beast used him to trick Jon, to force him to come out, to almost be killed."
"He's in hell now," Arya said, her voice full of anger. "Baelish did all this to our family. He will soon join him."
"Lord Royce is dead," Bran said. They knew this already, but his death had many meanings. "You said we cannot try Baelish without a great lord of the Vale here."
"It wouldn't be good," Sansa said. "When Jon gets back, we will decide what to do. And then we can have our revenge on Baelish."
"We can have it now, today," Arya said.
"Arya," Gendry said in a tone of caution, looking at the guards.
"I don't care," she said. "They all want him dead, too. Right?"
"Yes, my lady," said the guard who had put the chair down. "Such scum deserves a painful death."
"Hanging's too good for him," said another guard. "Draw and quarter him, my lady."
"There is a better way," Sansa said. "When the time comes, we will use Brienne's sword. It was made from Father's sword Ice."
"A fitting end, my lady," said a guard.
Arya stepped forward and touched Rickon's statue, touching his face "We will get revenge, little brother," she said. "On all who wronged us, and brought on your death and so many more."
"First we must deal with the White Walkers," Bran reminded them. They were silent for a few moments, looking at the statues, and then Bran spoke again. "Take me to the weirwood."
"It's late," Meera said. "Perhaps this can wait for morning. It always tires you."
"No, I must try again. I must know where Lightbringer is." When he first returned he had tried, but had no success. That was two days ago. Each morning since and evening he tried again, with no success. The visions came, but he did not know where to go, and who to seek. Azor Ahai was just a name in a legend. No one knew where he lived, where he came from, what he looked like. Bran spent time in the library searching the old history books but had no luck finding any useful information.
To the godswood they went, and the sun had already gone down so they needed the lanterns once more. Waiting for them above the crypts were Tyrion, Brienne, Podrick, and Bronn. Bran had been hastily introduced to them when he first arrived. He knew little about them…except for Lord Tyrion, who he had met in the past.
At dinner the first night he was back Bran was given the high seat of honor as lord of Winterfell. He had been impatient, saying this was not necessary, that he had many things to do, but both Meera and Sansa insisted that he eat a proper meal, his first in many days, as their supplies on the road home had been rationed to make them last. At the head table Sansa and Arya sat with him as did Ser Davos and Lord Tyrion. Bran was not sure if Tyrion was there because he was an ambassador or because he was still his sister's husband. During the meal he managed to find his way to Bran's side.
"I suppose you've heard what happened to me when I left Winterfell last time, my lord."
"Bran…just call me Bran."
"As you wish, Bran."
"Yes, I heard. My mother took you prisoner and my aunt wanted to kill you."
"Quite true. If not for Bronn I would have died in the Vale. Neither of us is well loved by the Vale men. They all think I killed Lord Arryn."
"Sansa said she now thinks Lord Baelish and my aunt had something to do with that."
"Yes, though it is uncertain. What is certain is that I am innocent of the charges. And of trying to harm you."
"I never thought you had anything to do with that."
"I wish your mother had felt the same way," Tyrion replied. "Much bloodshed could have been avoided."
"My sisters think your brother Ser Jaime pushed me out the window of that tower."
Tyrion sighed. "I know not…but it is possible. What do you remember?"
"Nothing…but sometimes I have dreams…nightmares…of falling, and a face…with golden hair, looking at me from the window as I fall."
"A possible clue, but not evidence he did it."
"Arya won't care," Bran said. "She wants him dead. Your sister as well."
"And they both want me dead."
"For killing your father?"
"Yes," Tyrion said, looking uncomfortable. "Ah, my cup is empty. I should…"
"Why did you kill him?"
"Not a subject I care to speak on at length. Suffice it to say he wanted me dead, and I acted in my own best interests. Good-day, my lord."
Now Tyrion walked beside him as Gendry carried him to the weirwood. "I would very much like to enter one of your visions," Tyrion said, not for the first time.
"It's not a good idea," Bran told him again. "Hodor was badly damaged by the things I did. Jon tried to speak to his mother, and I am certain my father heard us both. It is not a good idea to meddle with the past."
"Stop asking about that," Arya said in anger as she walked beside them.
"Yes," said Sansa. "Bran knows what is best. We must find the sword, that is the most important thing."
"Well," Tyrion said. "Why not start at the Wall?"
"The Wall?" Bran asked.
"Yes. The legends say Azor Ahai was the first commander of the Night's Watch. In fact, he created it. So, start there."
"How far back?"
"Eight thousand years," Meera said.
"Bloody hell," said Bronn. "He can see back that far? Anywhere you want?"
"Yes," Bran answered. "I think so."
"There's this girl, see," began Bronn. "Lived in my village, with big…"
"Enough," said Tyrion with a chuckle.
"I'm just wondering if she's still around," Bronn said.
"He is not a mummer at a carnival sideshow," Meera told them, getting angry. "Do all these people need to be here?"
"No, they don't," Arya said.
"Lord Tyrion can stay," Bran said.
Bronn, Pod and Brienne began to leave. "We'll be just outside, my lady," Brienne said.
"Thank you, but we will be fine," Sansa told her.
After they left Arya scowled. "She's like your shadow."
"She saved my life," Sansa shot back.
"I know, but I still don't trust her. She carries that Lannister sword, has that Lannister squire."
"She is not a Lannister," Tyrion reminded them. "Neither is Podrick. Him you can trust."
"I'm not sure I trust you, either," Arya said, to which Tyrion shrugged.
"Your mistrust will do you good…until it sours you to the whole world."
"Please stop arguing," Bran said. "We are here. Put me down."
Gendry placed him gently on the ground under the weirwood. A canvas sheet was already here from the last time, placed so Bran did not have to lie in the snow.
He reached up and touched the face of the tree, concentrating on the Wall, on Castle Black, on the beginnings of the Wall…long ago, so long ago, so very, very long ago…
…he was there, standing on the snow, and all before him was activity. Many huge men, giants he guessed, were pulling blocks of ice and huge rocks across the snow, and placing them to build a wall…the Wall.
Ban looked around and to one side he saw two men, one tall and dressed in furs and leathers, with a heavy beard, and a huge sword strapped to his back. The other man was shorter and slimmer, and was dark of skin, hair, and eye. He wore a black cape, black leathers and dark furs. For a moment Bran thought he was a crannogman, like Meera's people, but no, he was too tall. Maybe he was Dornish, though Bran was not sure as he had seen few Dornish people in his life.
And there was a sword, at his side, in a plain leather scabbard. The hilt Bran could see, but it was unadorned, plain, simple, nothing special at all. Maybe it was not Lightbringer.
He walked closer, trying to hear what they were speaking on. "Soon it will be high enough," said the bearded man, who Bran now thought must be his namesake, Brandon Stark, the Builder.
"It will never be high enough," the other man said, his use of the Common Tongue laced with an accent, from where Bran knew not. "We must continue to build it, high as we can, and ensure they never come south again."
"They are defeated my friend. It is time to rest."
"Never will I rest," said the man who Bran now thought must be Azor Ahai. "I will stand guard here for all my years to come."
"Alone?"
"If I must."
"No…I will find men to join you, to help you with this task. Maybe the people of the far north."
"They will not abandon their lands, their ways. We warned them they must come south, to escape the Walkers if they awake again."
"Aye, I know. Stubborn they are, like my people. But what can we do?"
"Nothing. The gods will it, so be it," said Azor Ahai. "They will be on the other side of the Wall for all the years to come."
"We should build gates in the Wall, under it, in case they change their minds."
Azor Ahai nodded. "Yes…and in case we must go north again to deal with the enemy."
"If you stay, you and your men will need homes, stores, wood for fire. I will build a castle for you."
"That would be good."
They were silent for a few moments, watching the giants. Then Azor Ahai spoke. "Where will you go?"
"Where she is. She waits in her village. Nearby are some hot springs. I am thinking to build a castle there as well…to raise a family, to help heal our lands from this terrible curse."
"A good plan. What of the south?"
Brandon the Builder grunted. "They are on their own, as they have left us. No help I want from them, ever."
"They were weak, afraid."
"That is no excuse for not helping us. If not for you and your sword, we would have been defeated, the world overrun forever."
Azor Ahai's hand went to his side and touched the hilt of his sword. "Someday they will come again. I fear it will happen long after my death. Someone will need use of the sword."
"Aye. Not to worry. We will make provisions. The people of the North must never forget. We will write the story, and make sure all know it, and pass it from father to son, mother to daughter, for all the ages to come."
Suddenly Bran felt hands on him, and a voice from far away. "Bran…Bran…come back…come back…come back."
It was Meera. He opened his eyes…and saw her above him. "What…why did you do that?"
"It's been over an hour…I was afraid you would get lost in there. Or meet someone who could harm you."
"An hour?" He sat up. All were looking at him, Meera, Sansa, Arya, Gendry, and Tyrion.
"A long time," said Tyrion. "What did you see?"
He told them all he saw and heard and when done Tyrion paced and spoke aloud his thoughts. "Yes…the sword, he had the sword…they made plans to keep it safe, to let people know…but what happened to those plans, what happened to the sword?"
"Time," said Bran.
"What do you mean?" Arya asked.
"Time went by," said Bran. "How much time, know one knows. But too much time."
"Yes," said Tyrion. "Truth became stories, stories became legends, and legends became myths. People forgot or began to doubt, and then to disbelieve. And so the sword was lost to us."
"I can go back and see if I can hear more."
"Not now," said Meera. "You are exhausted, and so are we. It is time for bed."
No one disagreed. But there would be no sleep yet. As they left the godswood word came that a body of men and a long line of supply wagons from the Wall had reached the castle's east gate. They hurried there and found Lord Beric Dondarrion with the Hound and Thoros of Myr and many more leading the supply wagons from Castle Black. Bran had briefly met them at Castle Black and knew the Hound from when he had visited Winterfell so long ago. As they came to the gate he told Gendry to place him on a large wooden bench that was nearby. Meera sat with him, close as always. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but knew that would not be appropriate.
As they climbed off their horses Sansa went to greet them, with Ser Davos who was already there. "Welcome back, my lords. It is good to see you."
"Thank you, my lady," said Lord Beric. "We were delayed by some snows or would have been here faster."
"What news of the army and King Jon?" Davos asked.
"Nothing," said Thoros. "We haven't seen them or hear anything of them for over seven days. Jon told us to press on and so we did."
"Was there a pursuit?" Davos asked. "Were they following him?"
"Not when we left," said Lord Beric. "He told us to press on, to get the supplies here. I am afraid we lost many men when the Wall fell. Half of the Vale men are gone, and many Northerners as well."
"How terrible," Sansa said. "But you are here and safe. Come, we must find you shelter and take care of these supplies. Ser Davos, Lord Tyrion, would you take care of this?"
They moved to the task at hand, Sansa giving orders as if she was still in command, and Bran did not mind, for he knew she knew what was best. Her eyes fell on him. "Sorry, I…"
"No, it's fine. You know what to do…I don't."
Then came an unpleasant incident. The Hound was standing beside his horse and then he looked past where Gendry was standing by Bran's bench. "Girl," the Hound said in his distinctive growl.
"Hello," said Arya to the Hound as she stepped beside where Gendry was standing. "I see you still live."
"Aye. You as well. Been busy?"
"Yes. The list grows smaller."
"Who?"
"Ilyn Payne, Walder Frey, and Meryn Trant."
He grunted. "Is my name still on it?"
"No."
"Because you thought I was dead?"
"No…I could have killed you when you asked, but I've decided you should live."
"Don't do me no favors."
"You killed Walder Frey?" Thoros asked in surprise, interrupting their talk.
Arya ignored his question. "Sansa, Bran, those two are not welcome in our home. Dondarrion and Thoros."
"Arya, they're on our side, they're helping us," Sansa said in admonishment.
"They tried to have Gendry killed! I told you this. If Ser Davos hadn't saved him he would be dead now!"
"Killed?" said Lord Beric. "We did not know of this, my lady."
"Liar," Arya spat. "You took the gold and knew she wanted to do him harm."
Gendry was shaking with anger Bran could see and his voice was full of it as he spoke. "I wanted to join you," he said. "I thought you were my brothers. And you sold me like a cow to that red woman!"
"She's dead," Lord Beric said.
"We know," Arya replied. "I only wish it had been me that killed her."
"She saved the army," the Hound told them. "Snow saw her sacrifice herself. Turned into a great ball of fire and killed many wights."
"Her good deeds do not wipe out her past," Davos said.
Sansa seemed lost, looking from one to the other. Bran knew he had to say something. "Lord Dondarrion, is what my sister says true? Did you sell Gendry to the red woman?"
"It is true, my lord."
"Then I must think on this matter. And decide what punishment is appropriate."
"Death," said Arya.
"No," Gendry quickly said. "We agreed not to kill them."
She sighed. "I know, but…"
"No, Arya…enough killing. We need every good fighter. I just want everyone to know what they did…and let them judge them in their hearts."
"We beg your forgiveness," said Thoros, seeming very contrite.
Gendry shook his head. "Never." Then he walked away and Arya followed him.
"I'm sorry," Sansa said to the two men.
"No…the lad is right," said Dondarrion, his voice quiet. "A foul thing we did and he is right not to forgive us. The Lord of Light told us…"
"Don't speak on that cursed god here," Davos said in anger. He scowled at Thoros. "No fires, no prayers."
"I believe Lord Stark is in command here," Thoros said.
Bran shook his head as Thoros looked at him. "I cannot stop you from praying in private. But no public prayers. No fires."
Thoros dipped his head. "As you command, my lord. Just know the Lord of Light is on your side. Only his power allowed us to escape from the wights."
"Let us see to matters of more importance," Tyrion said and then he and Davos began to deal with the supply wagons still coming in through the gates.
"Sandor," Sansa called out and the big man approached. "Could you help me with Bran?"
"I will carry him, my lady," Brienne said. She had been standing there the whole time, with her hand on her sword hilt, as had Bronn, who looked amused at all the doings.
"No, Brienne, that is fine," Sansa told her. "I need speak to Sandor on some things."
Brienne looked hurt but nodded her head. "As my lady wishes."
As the Hound came closer to him he glanced over at Bronn. "You with us now little man?" he asked.
"Aye," said Bronn. "Had enough of Cersei's dirty looks and knew my head would be gone soon."
"He helped Arya come home," Sansa said.
"That right?" asked the Hound. "Maybe you are of some use after all."
Bronn smiled. "You know I am. Seem to recall saving your life at the Blackwater."
"From one man," the Hound shot back. "Many more I killed all on my own."
"Aye, you did. Until you ran away."
The Hound let out a curse and started for Bronn. Brienne and Sansa stepped between them. "Stop it!' Sansa shouted, putting her hands on his chest, and looking him in his one good eye. Sansa was not as tall as the Hound, but tall enough she did not have to crane her neck to look at him. "No more fighting, no more arguing. The past is done. Bran, say something!"
"Yes, no more fighting. I need you all…we need you all. The past is forgiven."
The Hound was breathing hard, and glaring past Sansa at Bronn. "Aye, my lord," the Hound said and then he turned and picked Bran up.
Sansa walked toward the great keep and the Hound followed, with Meera as well. Up the stairs they went. The Hound was stronger than Gendry, though he seemed to limp on one leg a bit. He smelled foul, of sweat and horses, but Bran was too tired to care.
When they reached his chambers, the Hound placed Bran on his bed. "If that is all my lord, my lady," he said.
"No," Sansa said. "I need to speak to you. I want an honest answer."
"Aye. What is it?"
"Lord Royce…he died?"
"He did, with many of his men."
"Did he get my letter before he died?"
"So I heard," the Hound said. "I don't know what it said but he was upset."
"It was about Lord Baelish."
"Littlefinger whoremaster," the Hound growled. "He still lives?"
"For now. He is in the dungeons."
"Hang him and be done with it," the Hound said.
"The Vale men…we need them." Bran told him.
"Half are dead, the rest with your brother," the Hound replied and what he said next sent shivers of fear up Bran's spine. "And they might all be dead now as well if the wights caught up to them."
The Kingsroad – Jon
The gods were smiling on them, many men said, for the first few days of the retreat were done with no enemy at their back. On top of that the weather held good, with clear blue skies, and no snow or rains. The cold was still there, but all were used to that by now. Jon Snow knew they could thank the gods for the weather, but not for stalling the enemy's pursuit. Only one person could they thank for that, Melisandre.
Jon knew her name would be cursed in many places, for she had done terrible things. But he would not be one of them who cursed her. He promised to erase the past for her, but that would be hard to do. Still, he and the whole army owed her that much. In the early days of the retreat he went around and listened to the men by their nightly fires, and spoke on what happened and many agreed she had saved them. It might not be enough but it was a beginning.
On the second day he ordered the supply column to make all speed for Winterfell before any heavy snows came. They took as many supplies as they could from the wagons and each man filled his backpack with hard bread and salted meat and fish. Every cavalry horse was also laden with extra rations, and then Jon bid goodbye to the supply train, with Dondarrion, Thoros, and the Hound leading it.
"If you find my brother on the road south look after him for me."
"Aye, my King," said Dondarrion, and then they were gone.
It was lucky they sent them, for the snows did return, and three days later, about half way to Winterfell, they were struggling through drifts on the Kingsroad so bad they only made six miles that day before Jon ordered the night camp built before darkness came. They formed a circle, with the Kingsroad bisecting the camp, and built wooden barriers all around them, though heavier ones were placed facing north.
And that night the wights returned.
It was a small probing attack at first, about fifty wights, coming at the northern barrier, and many fire arrows sent them in retreat. The men cheered but Jon and the other leaders did not.
"They will be back," Lord Manderly said.
"And in greater numbers," Lord Glover predicted, accurately, as the next night several hundred tried their wooden barriers before retreating.
And then the retreat slowed to a crawl, six miles one day, five the next, and then, still a third of the way left to Winterfell, they were buried under mountains of snow.
"It's not natural," Tormund said as they tried to dig up the snow for the horses to get at any grass underneath. "Never have I seen snows like this in my life."
"Never?" Jon asked.
"Never…not even in the deepest winter when I was a boy. Its them that bring the snow and cold. Soon they will be on us again."
That night they attacked in great numbers, thousands of wights coming at them out of the snow and darkness, and it made their hearts quail to see so many of their fallen brothers among them, men sporting sigils of the many houses of the North, and especially of the Vale.
The wooden barriers held for while, and then the one on the east flank gave in under a murderous assault, and Jon and the rest waded into the fight, hand to hand combat lasting for almost half an hour before the wights finally retreated.
"Burn the dead," Jon commanded, and even as they gathered the bodies some came back to life with blue eyes and had to be burnt where they lay after being knocked down again.
Lord Glover took a wound to his right leg in the fight and the maesters at the healing tents feared he would lose it. Many others had bad wounds, and more men would die before morning.
"It is as I feared," Lord Glover said in pain from his cot in the healing tent. "We will be slaughtered like cattle out here."
"Not while we still have steel in our hands," Jon said.
Outside the tent Tormund was waiting. "Have you noticed no Walkers have shown themselves yet?"
"Aye, I have." In all the attacks they had not yet seen a White Walker, even from afar.
"They must be out there," Tormund said. "Who is controlling them if not the Walkers?"
"They must be…and where are all the dead coming from? The red woman killed so many."
"Not enough it seems. Remember how many we saw at Hardhome? And how many more fell and rose again? Maybe they held some of those back from the fight at the Wall."
"Maybe," Jon said but he had no answers.
The next morning the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky. "We must break camp and move south," Jon commanded. The weary men moved to their tasks, and in an hour they were moving again in the deep snow.
It was a struggle just to move a hundred feet. Horses were collapsing from hunger and the cold, and more men were burdened with the bags of food the horses had been carrying. Frostbite was becoming more common, and many a man had blackened fingers, toes, and nose tips. The wounded were placed in wagons, which many men had to push through the deepest snow. By the time late afternoon came they had barely moved five miles.
Jon was just giving the order to make camp when a sudden cold fell across the army, and from the west side of the Kingsroad from the thick forests came two scouts, running as fast as they could in the snow, shouting that the demons were coming. Not far behind them a mass of wights came, running on top of the snow as if it was no obstacle at all.
The army was strung out, with different parts hundreds of feet apart. The nearby commanders shouted for the men to face west and many did so, just in time, but they had no wooden barriers to slow or stop the wights. Fire arrows were not prepared for they had not made any fires yet. It would be hand to hand combat.
"Break open the oil casks!" Jon shouted. "Make fires. Quick!" As he gave the command he and Tormund and many more ran to the west side with weapons drawn to meet the wight attack.
As they slew wights and as men died, behind him blazing fires rose and then fire arrows and torches turned the tide, bringing down many wights and saving the position. But during the struggle Jon had no news of the other parts of the army, and only now came a messenger.
"Lord Glover is dead!" he shouted. "Lord Manderly and Lady Mormont's men are surrounded in the center. The Vale cavalry in the rear has been overwhelmed!"
Jon looked around him, at the many wounded and dead, at the snow turning red. He had maybe two thousand men and women here, mainly free folk and Northmen. "Tormund, hold this position, at all costs" Jon commanded. "NORTHMEN! WITH ME!"
A great shout arose and every Northman screamed his battle cry and followed Jon to the north, where a wall of wights was pressing their comrades. They hit them from behind and slew many, cutting a hole through their lines to the besieged. And then they all retreated again, back to where the free folk held the line. The wights backed away for the time, and Jon gave the order for the wooden barriers to be erected.
"Thank you," Lord Manderly said when they had time to talk. "For our lives."
"We are not out of this yet," said Lady Mormont. For the first time Jon saw fear on her face. "My King…what will we do?"
Jon had no answer, and she knew it by his look and silence. And then as the sun was about to set behind a range of low hills to the west, the wights attacked again, and now they surrounded what was left of the army, maybe three thousand men and women, and in the ranks of the enemy were many Vale men, freshly dead, and now arisen with blue eyes.
And there he was, the Night King, on his pale horse, with four of his brethren, off to the east side of the road, by the tree line. "I must kill him," Jon said and they all saw who he was looking at, for the sides of the road were higher than the center where they stood.
"Madness," said Lord Manderly.
"It's our only hope."
"He has a horse, he will flee from you," Tormund said.
"A horse!" Lady Mormont shouted. "A horse for our King!"
One was brought, a fine animal, black, and still strong looking. Jon climbed on its back. "Make a hole in their ranks," he commanded as he pulled out Longclaw.
"You will die," Lord Manderly said, his eyes filled with emotion.
"Aye…but if I take him with me it will be worth it."
"Good luck," Lady Mormont said, smiling at him.
"Let the gods make it so," Jon replied. And then Tormund was beside him on a horse. "What are you doing?"
"You didn't think I'd let you go all by yourself?"
Jon grinned and then he shouted to the ranks. "ALL RANKS! ATTACK EAST!"
He pointed Longclaw, the sun with its dying rays hitting the sword, reflecting the last light maybe of the world before the endless darkness came, and Jon prepared to die once more.
And then came a sound so unnatural that the world seemed to stop. A screech, like a rusty door hinge, or a seagull at a seaport, coming from the sky, and then all eyes turned to the south…and in the dying sunlight they saw something coming…three somethings, winged beasts…
Dragons!
Down they came, flying over the ranks, and even the wights looked up, and Jon swore later he saw pure astonishment on many a hideous face. Three dragons, one green, one white, and one pure black, and on the black one's back was a woman, with long blond hair streaming back, and Jon knew who she was…family.
"Daenerys Targaryen!" he shouted, as the dragons wheeled back and then came long gouts of flame from all three, and on all sides the ranks of the wights were decimated by dragon fire…but not the Night King, and his companions, who turned and fled into the forest.
But Jon saw no more, as hands reached for him. "DOWN! GET DOWN! Lord Manderly shouted in a bellowing voce, and Jon and Tormund were pulled from their horses and lay flat on the ground with the rest of the army as flames leaped into the air all around them. The heat was searing, and many a man felt warm for the first time in a long time.
And then it was over. What few wights that had survived fled. As the men went about dispatching any with signs of life in them, the three dragons landed on the south side of the camp, beyond the strip of blackened snow and charred wights bodies. Jon walked out toward them, with Tormund and Lord Manderly and Lady Mormont behind him.
Daenerys Targaryen climbed off her dragon and stood in front of all three dragons. She was strikingly beautiful, so much so that Jon found he could not speak at first.
"Hello," she said in a pleasant voice. "I am Daenerys Targaryen."
And then Jon knew what he had to do. He got down on one knee. "Your Grace," he said. "I am Jon Snow."
Behind him he heard Lord Manderly grunt and Lady Mormont gave a small gasp. Tormund laughed. "Knee benders," he said in a scoffing tone.
"Rise…King Jon."
He stood. "Thank you, for our lives."
"You are welcome. I know not if I should return the gesture and bend the knee to you."
"No need. You are our Queen, the Queen of all Westeros. I am just called the King in the North."
"An independent North!" Lord Manderly said.
Jon sighed, knowing this was trouble to come. "That has not been discussed yet, my Queen."
"I see. I believe there is much we have to talk on. But first, I must tell you I know who you truly are."
Jon felt a sudden unease as Tormund laughed. "He is Jon Snow. Who else would he be?"
"My nephew," Daenerys said and Tormund laughed again.
"How can that be?" Lord Manderly asked.
"What does she speak of, my King?" Lady Mormont asked soon after.
Jon turned to look at them. "She speaks the truth I am afraid. I only found out myself a short time ago. I am a Targaryen…my father was her brother Rhaegar."
"Gods," said Lord Manderly. "But…your father was Ned Stark. I know, I saw him bring you home from Dorne!"
"Aye, he did…after my mother Lyanna, his sister, died giving birth to me."
"Lyanna Stark was your mother?" asked Lady Mormont.
"Yes," Jon said. "My mother was Lord Stark's sister. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen."
"Gods," said Lord Manderly. "Why did Ned lie to everyone? Why…oh, yes. Robert."
"Aye."
"You could have told us," Tormund said, looking hurt.
"I am telling you now. I scarce believe it myself."
"There is only one way to know if it is true," Daenerys said and Jon turned back to her. "Come…and touch a dragon."
Now many in the army were watching the scene in the growing twilight. Jon hesitated and Tormund growled. "If it eats him woman I am going to kill you and those beasts!"
Instead of being angry she laughed lightly. "Oh, you are a fierce one. Not to worry, your King will be safe."
"He's not my King! He's my friend!"
"A long story," Jon said to her questioning look. With small steps he approached the dragons.
"Not the black one," Daenerys said. "He is mind to ride. You must pick another for you to ride."
"Ride? I can't ride a dragon!" Jon said in astonishment.
"Not yet. The one you touch will be the one you bond with."
"Then it had best be the white one. Does it have a name?"
"He is named Viserion, for my brother Viserys. Why him?"
"I have some affection for white animals."
"They are more than animals…go on…touch him."
"If I am not a Targaryen what will happen?"
"He will turn away from you…I hope."
"You hope?"
"Touch him."
Jon was now in front of the white dragon and could see Viserion was not all white, but had gold coloring in places. The large head was rising up and the large golden colored eyes were looking at him. His teeth were bared slightly and Jon could see they were shiny black. Heat came off the beast, and all around the dragons the snow was melting and steam was rising from all three.
As Jon got closer Viserion seemed to calm himself and lowered his head. Jon reached up…and touched the snout…and Viserion seemed to almost purr.
"Then it is true…you are a Targaryen!" the Queen said in excitement. She reached out and took him by the hand and then in front of the surviving soldiers she raised their hands together and the whole army gave a long lusty cheer.
"Is it over?" she asked as the army cheered them. "Are the wights and White Walkers all dead?"
"No…not the leaders," he told her. "While they live, it will go on."
Author's Note: Dear readers, that's about as far as I want to take the story until we see the new season next year. There will be one more chapter to tie up some loose ends and then that will be it for now.