"You have to listen to me." Tyrion hissed in the darkness.
Jon's head shook slowly back and forth.
"Did you not see what just happened here?" Jon yelped. "How treason will be dealt with?'
"Yes. She just fried a man I have known my whole life. I don't know why you and I are still alive, but if we'd like to keep it that way I suggest you think very long and hard about where your loyalties lie."
"What do you know about my loyalties?" He yelled back.
"Like it or not I am married to your sister, The Lady of Winterfell and I speak here on her behalf as much as my own."
"You think you speak for my sister?" Jon snarled.
"Your sister wants you to end this before it gets-." The Imp had climbed on to a rock so he could look John in the eye.
"Your marriage to Sansa is a power grab at best and a sham at wo-."
"Tyrion's right." Ayra whispered from the darkness. She'd been a couple feet behind them, but she moved slowly into the light of the fire. "He speaks for Sansa."
"Ayra." Jon snorted.
"She's happy Jon, have you been too busy trying to pacify your aunt's thirst for power that you haven't noticed?"
"Happy?"
"She refused the Moon Tea, so I'm going to go ahead and say she's made her choice." Ayra noticed that Tyrion's head had snapped towards her when she said that, she gave him a side glance, with a smirk.
"Arya!" Jon grimaced.
"Like it or not House Stark is now firmly in bed with the Lannisters." Arya stated boldly. "On that note. Ser Brienne will be arriving in the morning." She looked at Jon and then back to Tyrion. "I'd like her with me."
"So the decisions been made then?" Jon nodded his head.
"The decision was made the second that Daenerys told you not to tell us who you really were." Ayra stared at him in the darkness. "When you did so anyway."
He dropped his eyes to the dirt.
"I'm asking you to remember who you are." Ayra took a step towards him.
"Which?" His eyes are wet and conflicted when he looks at her. "Which part?"
"You are a Stark." She placed her hand over his heart and bore her large eyes into his.
"Your family has always tried to do what's right." The Imp reminded him.
"And where has it gotten us?" Jon mumbled. "Our mothers are dead. My father is dead. My brothers are dead." He winced heavily. "Or my Uncles. Cousin.." He rubbed his face trying to clear the confusion.
"Stop." Arya leaned forward in to him.
"All gone." He looked towards the sky.
"Well you're still here." Tyrion said softly. "And the rest of the realm is looking to you for what to do next."
"Jon?" He looked back at his sister. "You have to remember!"
"The North Remembers." He told her, his hand folding over hers, still pressed against his chest plate. A slow smile spread across her face. He looked at Tyrion. "Go to Flea Bottom and tell your brother we have a deal." Tyrion nodded, and Jon turned back to Arya gripping her shoulders. "Be careful."
"Always." She breathed, pulling him close before rushing away.
….
She arrived the next morning under Yara's protection. The Lady of the Iron Isles and Arya had already found themselves deep in strategy, a large paper map unrolled on the cold stone floor of the Dragon Crypt. Brienne had let herself feel the pride that they had already infiltrated the castle and Cersei was none the wiser.
"The rest of my fleet will follow me when Euron falls. I know they will." Yara was telling Arya confidently.
"Any that don't we'll feed to the dragons." Arya shrugged. "We just need Euron separated.
"When the child comes." Brienne knew Yara's whisper was for her, her cheeks reddened, as if she didn't know about the damn child. As if it wasn't half the reason she hadn't ridden directly into the throne room and sliced the bitch in two herself.
"We can access the Keep. I can come and go undetected, and we'll have our man inside this evening."
It's the mention of him that caused Brienne's impatience to become intolerable.
"If you don't mind it, My Lady I'm to accompany Lord Tyrion today."
"I don't mind it." She didn't look up from her plans. "And I'm no one's Lady."
"Thank you." She ignored the last part. "Lady Yara I'm grateful to you for my safe passage."
"Don't be too hard on him. He is a Lannister." Yara sighed. "You had to know what that meant.
"Yes." Arya looked up from the map for the first time. "Do remember we need your husband alive. Not unbruised though, if I do say so myself."
"I'll keep it in mind." She mumbled, three days of anticipation settling in her gut.
By the time she met Tyrion in Flea Bottom her anger is fresh again.
"Hello Dear Sister." The Imp greeted, attempting to fall in step with her. She forced herself to slow her stride. "How is my bride?"
"She misses you, My Lord." Brienne told him honestly. "More than she expected, I think."
"That's nice to hear." He sighed.
"And my stupid husband?"
"He feels properly horrible if it makes you feel any better." Tyrion mumbled.
"I'm not sure it does." Her words are clipped, her eyes scanning the streets for danger.
"You'll see for yourself soon enough." He sighed, stopping in front of a dirty pot shop.
"What the hell is he doing here anyhow?" She wrinkled her nose when she speaks, her eyes scanning over the crowd. She figured he'd yet to arrive and it makes her heartbeat increase with anticipation.
"It is the safest place for him to be until we're ready for him to be in the Keep."
"The safest place for him is Winterfell." Her tone was accusing, her eyes fluttering over the patrons.
"I don't disagree." He implored. "Why are you angry with me?"
"I'm not!" She growled, before swallowing hard. "I'm just angry."
"It's very scary." Tyrion grinned.
"I can't believe he's safe here. It's not like he can blend in." She grimaced. "He'll surely be recognized."
"You didn't." Tyrion told her gently, gesturing towards the back table.
He watched her confusion melt into realization as her eyes fell on the beggar in the corner, using his left hand to scoop what looked like human waste around in a bowl gripped in his right elbow.
"Wait here." Her husband's little brother gestured for her to stay as he approached him slowly. Brienne tried to stop her eyes from tearing, but it's no use, memories of him dirty, bound and battered at Harrenhall wash over her and she can't stop the bitter salty taste of tears in her throat.
…...
"Arya has set up camp in the Dragon Crypt." He tells his brother, leaning over him.
"And she thinks she'll be able to go undetected?" Jamie looked at Tyrion like he was insane from beneath his beggar's cloak.
"The girl has some pretty impressive capabilities." Tyrion shrugged. "You're not actually eating that are you?"
"You can only push it around the bowl for so long." He grunted.
"Dany wants to try and trade you for Melisande."
"She won't take it." He shook her head. "The only way she lets me in is if I come of my own. You know that."
"It was worth a shot." Tyrion shrugged. "We plan on telling her we never found you."
"And they let you tell me this?" Jamie tilted his head. "Am I too believe that they trust me? How do they know I won't tell Cersei and get them all killed?"
"About that." Tyrion took a deep breath, and looked over Jamie's shoulder. His brother stiffened afraid to turn around. "Your wife arrived this morning." He watched his brother's face pale as his head craned back. "I guess they figured you might not want to kill her."
"She.." He shook his head, trying and failing to pull his eyes off of Brienne to look back at him. "She cannot be here. I want her in Winterfell, behind a blanketed wasteland of ice and snow and at least two walls. Not in the bowels of the damn Red Keep."
"Seems she doesn't give a fuck what you want." Tyrion shrugged. Jamie rubbed his face, looking back at him. "It's not too late. Come with us. I can get you to Arya-." Jamie shook his head. "Fine. Do it your way, what do I know. Just be carefull. And don't forget to ring the damn bell."
Tyrion strode forward.
"He's all yours my Lady. I hope you have better luck than I've had."
…..