Jon
His arm still ached, but the paste Maester Wolkan was applying regularly helped to ease the pain, even if it smelled like foul eggs.
"Now the bindings, your Grace," Maester Wolkan added gently and started to wind the the white binding over his shoulder. He did this ever-diligently and made Jon recall a rather stupid incident that happened to him when he was seven. Robb dared him to mount a rather wild horse and he ended up breaking his shoulder. For weeks he had to keep to bed, but Robb was always there, trying to cheer him up, much to the dislike of Lady Stark.
"Thank you," he thanked Maester Wolkan after he finished his work and pulled on his tunic, followed by his surcoat and then his cloak."It feels much better now."
"It is my duty to serve," Maester Wolkan replied and lowered his head."I also called for your sister and Sir Brynden Tully like you asked of me, your Grace."
"Thank you again, Maester Wolkan," he said and closed the door behind him, before making his way down the steps to cross the corridor leading to Lord Stark's study. Jon avoided to use it, because stirred up sad memories, but it was the best place to speak in private.
Carefully, he picked up the letter he had read for a hundred times. Tyrion's handwriting was familiar as ever, but see the signed name of Daenerys and her hundred titles made it feel real to him. She is alive and well.
"Jon!" Sansa's voice snapped him out of his thoughts."Jon!"
He lifted his head and found her standing at the entrance of the room, next to her the Blackfish, a serious look showing on his face.
"I apologize…," he replied and lowered his head in greeting."My mind was straying..."
"No need for apologies, brother," Sansa answered and moved closer to touch his brow."Though you look rather pale."
He brushed her hand away and forced a smile over his lips.
"I am well sister," he assured her, before shifting his attention to the Blackfish."I am sure you are wondering why I called you here. You know that I will soon depart for Dragonstone, but there is a matter we need to discuss before I leave."
The Blackfish frowned, disagreement written all over his face.
"What matter do we need to discuss, your Grace?"
"A matter that concerns your home," Jon explained and ignored his sharp look."I assume you want to retake the Riverlands?"
"Of course," he replied in a way that left no room for questions."Why are you even asking? Are you taking me for a fool?"
"No, Sir Brynden," he replied."I would never joke about something like that. I intend to give you an army. Lord Edmure needs to be freed from his imprisonment and the Freys need to die."
"Jon means well, Grand-Uncle," Sansa whispered and touche the Blackfish's shoulder."He is not taking you for a fool...he really intends to give you an army. His goal is to unite the high lords against the enemy lurking beyond the Wall."
The Blackfish's face softened when he heard Sansa's words, but his face told Jon that he didn't quite trust him.
"You mean to give me the Knights of the Vale, don't you?" the Blackfish asked."Or is that the reason you are seeking out this Dragon Queen? To ask her to burn down the Twins? Don't misunderstand me...I would love to see the Twins burns, but I know what her price will be...submission to another Targaryen ruler."
"No," Jon replied quickly."I spoke to Lord Royce. He is prepared to offer you four-thousand men. Is that sufficient?"
"It is a beginning," the Blackfish remarked hesitatingly."I am sure the Riverlords will rally to my side once I return with an army behind my back. I promise you this...I will drive out the Lannister scum. Yet that doesn't mean I trust this Dragon Queen...her father murdered your Uncle and Grandfather."
"I know that," Jon replied and nodded his head in understanding."But I don't judge children for their parents actions."
"And I don't know what to make of you," the Blackfish admitted openly, finally addressing the tension between them."Catelyn disliked you greatly. When Robb proposed to make you his successor she protested vehemently and I agreed with her, but that is the past. I am trying to trust you, but it is hard for me to do so."
His words hurt, but they were no surprise to him, yet they stirred an old rage, buried deep inside his heart.
"I don't expect friendship from you, Sir Brynden," he replied honestly."Lady Stark never had any obligation to love me, but I was never a danger to Robb. I never had any intention to steal anything from him. I would have been happy to live out my days as Robb's Captain of the Guards if your niece had allowed me to remain in Winterfell. I am honest when I say that I hated her for her cold looks. It was the reason I joined the Night's Watch, but as you rightly said...that is the past. Robb and Lady Stark are dead and gone. I can only promise you this...Rickon will rule after me. Does that help to ease your mistrust?"
A heavy moment of silence passed between them. Jon exchanged a look with Sansa, who had been silent throughout the whole conversation.
Finally, the Blackfish nodded his head, his eyes flickering to Sansa and then back to Jon.
"I understand my command, your Grace," he said at last and graced Sansa a smile."I will leave as quickly as possible if it pleases you."
Sadness showed on Sansa's face, but she had agreed with Jon's suggestion and played her part.
"We shouldn't waste time to inform Lord Royce," Sansa said, a hesitant smile showing on her lips."Perhaps after supper?"
"That would please me," the Blackfish replied and moved to the door, but stopped to grace Sansa with another smile.
"I will see you during supper, child."
Sansa nodded her head and closed the door behind him, before turning around to look at Jon.
"I think you finally broke through that stubborn head of his," Sansa japed, a smile showing on her lips.
Jon returned her smile.
"Are you sure?" he asked teasingly.
"No," she admitted honestly and crossed the room to look out of the window."But he will do as you asked of him. He is thirsting for revenge."
Then she turned around, leaned against the table and gave him a questioning look.
"Now...tell me," she prodded gently."What last instructions do you have for me?"
"No further instructions," he replied and shook his head."I already gave you all my instructions...I called you here, because I need your advice."
Surprise was evident on her face.
"My advice?"
"It concerns a delicate piece of information that needs to be relayed to the right person."
"Information? To whom?"
"The Tyrells and Lord Tyrion. There is a traitor among them...Lord Randyll Tarly."
"Tarly?" she asked and paled visibly."I recall that Lady Margaery called him one of her father's loyal bannermen…," she continued, but shook her head as if to banish away the positive things she had just mentioned."Power….that is most likely reason for betrayal. Willas Tyrell is a cripple...maybe this Randyll Tarly thinks he will do better than the current lord."
Jon could only agree with her assessment. What he heard from Sam about his father painted him as a man who despised all weakness. Even being heir of Highgarden would not be enough to change such a stubborn outlook on the world.
"I agree with your assessment, sister. Sadly, that doesn't change my current dilemma. Say I write Lord Tyrion or Lord Tyrell about this supposed betrayal...Do you think they would believe me?"
"Can't you relay the information in person?" she countered in an unsure tone."You are going to Dragonstone."
"Then it will be too late," he replied and ruffled his hair in frustration.
She sighed and pondered over the problem, before giving her answer.
"I could write to Highgarden...Lady Olenna knows me...maybe she will believe me."
Jon laughed.
"And what will you tell her? That an ominous bird told you that Lord Tarly will betray her?"
"First you need to give me more details," she explained, an expression of determination taking hold of her face."What did this betrayal entail? The more details the better the lie I can make up for you."
Jon couldn't help but to chuckle. Lord Stark would be upset if he heard Sansa's words, but it was a lie that brought them the Knights of the Vale and it was a lie that saved his life as an infant.
Then closed his eyes and tried to recall details that could be of help to them. He wasn't involved in Daenerys war and thus he had only a vague knowledge of what happened. And later, when he could have asked Daenerys about it, he always avoided the topic. The future was too uncertain to concern oneself with the uncomfortable past and he uncertain future.
"All I recall is that the Lannisters besieged Highgarden and that Lord Tarly promised to free the castle from the enemy's hands, but turned his cloak. The Lannisters plundered Highgarden and killed Lady Olenna. Daenerys Targaryen used her dragons to burn the Lannister army. In the end Lord Tarly and his son refused to bend the knee and she burned them for their treachery."
Sansa's eyes widened in fear.
"She burned them?"
"Aye."
"And you still want to go there?"
"Daenerys won't kill me...I assure you," he replied quickly, realization washing over his sister's features.
"Daenerys," she repeated."You called her Daenerys...How well do you know her?"
He exhaled deeply and met her gaze.
"Very well," he replied in a trembling voice."Very well."
Sansa swallowed hard, her face open in understanding. She understands, he was sure, but Sansa left the topic alone and returned to the topic at hand.
How to best reveal Randyll Tarly's treason.
She remained silent for a long time, before abruptly rushing to the the table littered with papers. She searched for a minute and picked a letter from the table.
"Samwell Tarly," she said at last and smiled at him."You told me that he is your friend and the son of this Randyll Tarly. He will be the piece of truth in our lie."
"Piece of truth?"
"He mentioned in his last letter that he visited Hornhill. We could justify our knowledge by citing your friend as our source. Nobody can deny that he is Randyll Tarly's son."
"And who do you think should I write to?"
"I think we should write two letters. You will write to Lord Tyrion and I will write to Highgarden. Then we hope for the best."
Jon nodded his head. It was worth a try.
"We will do as you say, sister."
...
Daenerys
"The black dress?" Missandei asked her, a happy smile curling on her friend's lips. She has been like this since Greyworm left for Casterly Rock. Missandei denied it, but her flushed cheeks confirmed Daenerys' suspicions.
"Yes," she replied and stepped out of her steaming bath, before starting to dry her hair."The one with the red rubies. I am a Targaryen Queen...the King in the North ought to see that."
"Of course, your Grace," Missandei replied dutifully and helped her put on the dress in question. Then she brushed through her hair and started to braid it the way she liked. The Dothraki fashion included many difficult knots, but Missandei worked diligently as ever.
"The bell too?" Missandei asked.
"Yes...like always," Daenerys replied and Missandei chuckled lightly.
"Why are you laughing?" Daenerys asked.
"I apologize, but I don't think this King in the North will understand what the bell means."
Daenerys knew this, but she didn't care. The bell is not meant to impress the King in the North, but for herself. It is a sign of her past victories.
"Put it on anyway."
Missandei nodded her head and did as she asked of her. Then she made her way over to the table to retrieve her crown. As her hand smoothed over the dragon heads she wondered if the King in the North will wear a crown.
"Your Grace…," Missandei's soft voice addressed her gently."We should go. Lord Tyrion left half an hour ago. Your guests will be waiting."
"Of course...my mind was straying," she apologized and picked up the crown, before carefully placing it on her head."We shouldn't let our guests wait."
The throne room of Dragonstone proved gloomy, it's high seat carved out of the same dark stone the whole castle was built of.
As always, her Dothraki guards took their respective places at her side, their curved blades strapped to their backs, though she doubted their guests will be a danger to her. She bid Lord Tyrion to make sure that her guests give up their weapons.
Missandei, wearing a black silk dress like her, took her place beneath the steps leading up to the seat carved into the stone walls. Above her a dozen of torches burned like small flames of dragonfire.
She got plenty of practices with petitioners during her time as Queen of Meereen, but a King is of a different station and the things Lord Tyrion told her about the Northmen made her feel unsure.
They are stubborn people, these Northmen. The winters are hard up in the North and they keep to themselves. Don't expect him to bend the knee to you without a proper negotiation.
The strange reply the King in the North sent to Lord Tyrion confused her only more.
I, Jon Snow, King Regent of the North will meet you at Dragonstone. As a gesture of trust let me give you this warning: My friend, Samwell Tarly, novice in training at the Citadel and son of Randyll Tarly informed me about his father's plans of treachery against his Lord Willas Tyrell. Do not trust his false promises of loyalty...he serves Queen Cersei…
Daenerys' first thought was that this King in the North is trying take her for a fool, but Tyrion assured her that a son of Eddard Stark wouldn't lie about such a serious matter. Then he showed the letter to Lord Tyrell, who immediately wrote to his grandmother, who had returned to Highgarden to rule in her grandson's absence. Daenerys still doesn't know what to make of his warning.
It matters not, she thought and straightened herself as the doors opened. Only time will tell if his predictions turn out to be true.
For now she intends to show him politeness as Lord Tyrion advised her.
Missandei's recount of her titles gave her time to take in her guests, following after Tyrion Lannister.
Right behind him walked a young man, not much older than her and garped in leather and pelt. It was clothing that belongs to a far colder climate, though even here in Dragonstone the sharp winds never fail to make her shiver.
From the distance it was hard to make out more than longish dark hair and a pale face.
Right behind him walked an elderly man, dressed in a washed-out blue surcoat and a black dusty travelling cloak, followed by a young woman. Like Lord Snow she was dressed in pelt and leather, her blond hair kept in a long braid.
They stopped in the middle of the room, listening in respectful silence to the recount of her titles.
When Missandei was finished, the young man moved up the steps, the torchlight revealing a pale, long face, framed by dark-brown hair.
Comely, would be the word to describe him. He was also very young and not particularly tall. Not that she was the kind of person to judge people by such measures.
A Queen does not need to be of tall stature to command her people, Ser Barristan had told her when she complained about her rather tiny stature. Queen Rhaella was a fragile woman, but she always commanded her ladies with a firm hand.
Sadly, not my Lord Father, she thought and forced a polite smile over her lips as she met the young man's gaze.
His face appeared guarded as if in deep concentration.
"I am Jon Snow, King Regent to my brother Rickon Stark. Well met, your Grace," he introduced himself and lowered his head in greeting."I assume you received my reply?"
His voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was like a distant memory, though she brushed the feeling away as quickly as it had slipped into her mind.
"I am pleased that you undertook this long travel, your Grace," she forced the words over her lips. She told Tyrion to make her intentions clear to the King in the North, but both her Hand and Ser Barristan advised her to keep the proper etiquette."I hope the weather was kind?"
"The winds were kind, your Grace," the King in the North replied, his face becoming even longer as he smiled, though his dark hair helped to soften the edges of his face."May I introduce my companions?"
"Please," she told him and forced another smile over her lips."Please introduce your companions."
"This is Ser Davos Seaworth, once Hand to Stannis Baratheon, but now a valuable ally to the North," the King in the North explained and jerked his head towards the elderly man, who graced her with a disarming smile.
"It is a great pleasure to meet you, your Grace."
She was completely taken back by this revelation. This man once served her enemy, but so did Ser Barristan.
"A pleasure," she replied politely, before shifting her attention to the young woman. She was beautiful in her own way, graced with sharp cheekbones and golden hair. Like Doreah.
"And this is Val of the Free Folk. She is here to represent her people."
While the presence of Stannis Baratheon's former Hand didn't exactly thrill her she couldn't help, but to feel satisfied to see a Lady among her guests. That she was chosen as a representative of her people showed her that the Northmen are not completely averse to a woman doing other things than rearing children.
Her smile for Lady Val of the Free Folk was honest.
"Welcome...I don't know much about the Free Folk, but I am curious to hear more about your people."
"I assure you, you will hear plenty about my people, your Grace," Lady Val replied, though the way she said her titel sounded rather forced.
"Oh, I am sure about that," Lord Tyrion interrupted and clapped his hands together."We will have plenty of time to speak about such matters during supper, but now we should address the matter at hand. The reason for your visit…"
"Lord Tyrion speaks true," she continued and straightened herself in her seat."I assume you know of my intentions to rule all of the Seven Kingdoms?."
"I do," he replied and nodded his head."I do understand your intentions, your Grace."
"Yet your letter was rather vague on this matter," she replied quickly, before he was able to continue. Her patience was getting the better of her."What I mean is your Kingship and the North's independence."
"Very true," he confirmed, his dark eyes meeting hers. Starry black eyes. Familiar eyes.
Act like a queen, she reminded herself as she continued to listen to him. You are not a little girl.
"My reasons are quite clear. Whether I bend the knee will depend on the outcome of our negotiations, your Grace."
His calmness confused her, but she tried not to show it.
Why is he not afraid, she wondered. I told Lord Tyrion to show him my dragons.
"And what if they fail?" she asked, testing his bravery."What if I told you that I won't tolerate another King? Do you understand what that would mean?"
He nodded his head, his dark hair falling into his face as he moved his head.
"War."
"War," she repeated and tried to sound intimidating."You saw my three dragons, didn't you?"
"I did," he replied, his voice laced with amusement, though not in a mocking way."They are gracious beasts. I have never seen anything like them and I have seen a great many things during my time in the Night's Watch, your Grace."
That was not the compliment she expected, but the way he voiced it didn't sound like empty flattery. It sounded as if he meant it, which made it only harder for her to remain firm in her stance.
"My dragons helped me to conquer Slaver's Bay," she continued, her gaze fixed on him."I killed the slavers who refused to obey my new laws. They would tell you that my dragons ought to be feared."
"So I have heard," he replied in an almost amused, quipping tone, that was beginning to get under her skin."And I agree, your dragons ought to be feared, but there is an enemy that even your dragons ought to fear. It is the reason I came here."
His words confused her and she searched for hint of falseness in his face. Yet she only found the solemn, observant look she saw before."What enemy are you speaking of? Do I know it's name?"
"I doubt that you have heard of them," he replied and sighed heavily, before continuing with his explanation."Most people in the south think of them as fairy tales, but we in the North know the old stories...the enemy I am speaking of are called the White Walkers or Others. They are creatures of ice and they live beyond the Wall. They can raise the death and if they ever cross the Wall they will add the rest of Westeros to their army of the dead."
She was completely taken back by his words and even Lord Tyrion appeared stunned.
"White Walkers...Others...army of the dead," she repeated the foreign words he used."Are you trying to mock me?"
Her sharp tone washed the smile from his lips and for a moment she regretted her choice of words.
"Nothing could be further from the truth, your Grace," he replied in an almost trembling voice. It was the first time she sensed fear in his demeanour, which confused her only more."And that is why I brought you a gift."
"A gift?" she asked, utterly perplexed. A gift should be something pleasant, but the way he spoke of it made it sound like something very unpleasant.
I cannot show fear, she told herself and nodded her head. I am the blood of the dragon.
"I like gifts...show it to me, your Grace."
"As you wish," he replied and inclined his head to Lady Val."You know what to do."
"Of course, do not run away, Lord Crow," she replied and left the room in company of Ser Davos.
Lord Crow, she thought and found it rather fitting name. His clothes were dark as were his eyes and his hair. Her amusement was only heightened as the King in the North's two companions returned with a handful of men, carrying a wooden box.
An animal perhaps, she wondered and swallowed hard.
"Reveal my gift to you…," she prodded and grabbed the handle of her chair in growing anticipation.
In tense silence she watched as the men worked on the buckles of the wooden cage, before the King in the North opened the front, his other hand resting on his blade.
The other men remained close as a shrieking creature hopped out of the cage. It pulled on the chain bound around its neck, filling the silence with an ever rattling noise.
The shrieking cries sent a shiver down her spine while she tried to make sense of the spectacle in front of her.
She blinked once, then twice, but nothing changed the truth. The creature in front of her was undeniably human, but the waxen complexion and the sweet smell of death made her wrinkle her nose.
Suddenly, the smell of the hundred crucified children came back to her, a gagging reflex taking hold of her.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, blocking out the tense feelings surging through her.
"We call these these creatures wights," the King in the North explained, taking the chain from Lady Val's hands."As I said...the White Walkers or Others can raise dead men...he is one of them and there are hundred thousands of them lurking beyond the Wall."
She shuddered, from the tip of her head down to her toes.
She knew dark magic and paid witness to the cruelty of slavery, but the sight of this creature frightened her down to the marrow of her bones.
"Is there a way to kill them?" she asked, her breathe coming in quick gasps."Why do you believe that I can help you?"
His smile lightened up when he heard her words. It was like soft sunshine bursting through a dull grey sky and made her heart skip a beat.
"The answer is quite simple, your Grace," he replied and stepped closer. Her Dothraki guards reacted quickly, but when she winked her hand they remained in place."Dragonfire and dragonglass can kill them...we also call it obsidian and it can be harvested here on Dragonstone. That is why I came here, your Grace. To prepare for the true war."
The creature started to shriek again and Daenerys tried to keep still. It was hard to look at it.
"Give me a bit of time to process this revelation," she replied, her gaze flickering to Tyrion and then back to the King in the North, before shifting her attention to Missandei, who looked equally unsettled."We will speak during supper. Missandei will make sure that you are all settled."
The King in the North lowered his head in acceptance."Of course, your Grace."
...
As always, thank you for the reviews.