They had entered the castle easily, thanks to the Iron-borns leading an attack to divert them.

It was suicide for the men, but that was the spirit of the Iron-borns. They knew they would be outnumbered by the Lannister soldiers, and they knew they wouldn't last for more than a few hours, but that was enough time for the other men to accomplish their missions.

The Hound was running through the corridors of this castle he knew too well, leading to the laboratory. He thought about the last time he was in this castle, as a man of the Kingsguard, protecting a boy who was more passionate about troubling young girls and torturing animals than ruling this damned starving and collapsing kingdom.

He thought about the girl. The traumatized little girl, when she was still a pawn in the game of thrones. Now she was a grown woman, aware of the reality of the politics, of the reality of life, or it's monstrosity, rather. He was proud of the woman she had become, although he felt guilty for the things she had to go through in order to become this woman. He could have killed every single man who ever thought about touching her or trouble her if she had asked him, even if that meant finishing his job by slitting his own throat. But somehow, he sometimes thought that she could not have changed in a better way. Tormented, betrayed, raped, lonely for so many years, and it had just made her wiser. She was not cruel, not thirsty of vengeance, but just. She was beyond compare at ruling Winterfell, it was the thing she was always meant to do. True, she did not have the military mind of a soldier, but she had the honor of the Father, the mind of the Smith, the bravery of the Warrior, the kindness of the Crone the empathy of the Mother. But in his mind, she still remained the little bird, some majestic beauty not designed for him to reach, not designed for anyone to reach, just for people to observe silently and being mesmerized in secret. The beauty of the Maiden.

He had never believed in the Gods, the Gods had wronged him too many times. But he believed in her. Unlike the Gods, she was just, she tried to put some balance this crazy world. She was real, she was someone he could put his trust in.

He forced the locked door open, and entered the room. It was dusty and smelled of herbs and death. The stink amplified when he approached the glass jars, filled with what looked like eyes and human parts, floating in some kind of clear liquid.

Da hell is this man playing with?

He opened every drawer he could find, until he saw what he was looking for. He carefully folded the plans and put them in his pod, before hearing loud, mechanical steps in the corridor.

It's time

He grabbed a candle from the corner of the table, and took the calabash filled with the green mixture out.

"Light the wall facing the sea, this way the wildfire will propagate all the way to the east wing through the hidden passageways.", the Imp said

Let's just hope that he's out of the passageways already, he thought before removing the cap and spreading the viscous liquid near the wall.

He heard footsteps in the hallway, walking at a rather quick pace. But not towards him. He had recognized his brother's pace, probable rushing towards the attack. He was still close enough for him to catch up.

I could just go in this hallway and surprise that cunt from behind, and justice will finally be restored.

He had his hand on his sword already. The other was holding the torch. But as he took a few steps towards the door, readying himself for a fight, the blue eyes of the little bird suddenly appeared in his mind. They looked worried and expecting, those beautiful, brave eyes. He could lose himself in them, for hours, for days, for years, he thought.

I have no time for this, he thought, before setting the room on fire and quickly escaping before the whole tower would explode.

Theon and Gendry, who were hiding near the cells, heard the sound of the explosion, and nodded at each other before parting. They had located before where Ellaria Sand was imprisoned, and her cell was on the opposite side of the castle compared to Yara's cell.

The corridor was empty, as expected, when Gendry reached the Dornish's cell. She did not even move. She was blankly staring at a stinking, covered in maggots corpse in front of her. He smashed his hammer against the bars, and found his way in the cell. But she still was not moving.

"Do whatever you want with me, Iron-born, just kill me after you're finished.", she said coldly, and that tone contrasted harshly with her warm, southern accent.

"Lady Sand, I come from the North, I was sent by Daenerys Targaryen m'lady, I am here to rescue you. Come with me, you will be escorted to your home."

She looked at him straight in his deep blue eyes, and shook her head lightly, as if she was expecting to wake up from her sleep. She was pale, the palest dornish woman the boy had ever seen, probably from being locked up during so many moons. He hair was just a heap of dark locks, mixed with dust and straws, and it had not been combed since what looked like a decade, and he could tell a lot of it was missing. Dornish women, usually voluptuous and emanating a warm aura, were the exact opposite of the woman in front of him. Her cheeks were sunken, and dark pockets underneath her eyes made her face look deformed and soulless, like all forms of life crawled away from her frame. But in her dark and gaunt eyes was a gleam of light, the trace of the newly found hope, the promise of finally getting home after what must have been moons of perpetual calvary, he could not even imagine what had already been done to her, nor to her cell companion, who was rotting here for what smelled like a decade too.

She took a moment, and finally accepted his help to stand up. He crashed her chains with his hammer.

"let's go now, we have no time to loose!", he said grabbing her arm, pulling her to the way out.

"Wait! Wait, we can't leave without…I can't abandon her here, she'll…", she said, her voice braking. She was waving at the lifeless body.

Why does she care 'bout-

Her daughter

The realization hit him, and he felt like giving back the crumbs of bread and the piece of dried meat he had for lunch right before the lady.

How can one be so cruel?, he thought, looking at the body, still processing.

It was skinny to the bone and stinking, but it somehow still had the shape of a woman, despite probably being rotting here for moons. Ellaria fell to her knees and caressed the black flesh of what surely used to be the beautiful face of her daughter. But nothing of what remained looked beautiful. The skin was wrinkled and of all kind of different colors, going from yellow to black, and in some places, still stained by the blood that had escaped from her nose. Her mouth was open, as if she had been fighting for air in her last moments. Her top lip had curled up to the base of her nose, revealing the maggot-infested gum. Her eyeballs seemed dry and it looked like they were sinking in her skull.

"Cersei in paying for this. Right now.", he said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

He took a deep breath in, went out of the cell and ripped one of the Lannister gold and red banner before coming back in. He settled himself on his knees next to her and took a deep breath in. He felt like puking, he felt the bile heap up in his stomach, but took a deep breath in again and wrapped the heap of cold and dry flesh mingled with bones and pest in the fabric and carried the shroud on his shoulder. He stretched his hand towards the Dornish woman again, helping her stand up. She looked at him in awe, and her eyes were glistening.

"Let's go now.", he outed, before running to the port. He put a cloak around her shoulders and on her head, concealing her dornish features as they ran through the rich streets, making their way down to the streets that looked less wealthy. They finally reached the small port, where the real Iron boats were, disguised as a shipping boat from Essos. As they reached the deck, she took his hands in hers, and bowed.

"I shall never forget.", she said, before carefully placing the shroud in a coffer.

"As soon as we reach Sunspear, I shall thank you with more gold than you've ever seen in your whole life-"

He slightly bowed again.

"I have to go help Theon!", he said to the Hound , who had captured his arm before he could run away.

"Tell him to move his damn ass, we leave as soon as the Imp's back, I don't care if he's not here, I'm not staying one more minute in this place!", he growled.

He saw his sister from a far, bound with metal chains to the dirty stone wall. He ran to her, the loud jingle of his heeled shoes and steel armor echoing in the corridor, hitting the walls covered in mold and piss. He slipped but did not fall, and he reached the cell he had seen his sister in.

"Yara!"

The small cage was covered in dirt, and his queen was sitting here, dressed in rags. His breath accelerated as he saw the small room at the bottom of the kennel he used to sleep in when he served the flayer in his mind again. But he took a deep breath in and forced the door open. It was not even locked. She was laying on the ground, chains bound to her wrists, linking her to the wall in front of them. The wood used to cover it was looking very old and moldy, and traces of scratches and blood stains could be seen on it. Nothing about her appearance reminded him of Yara, except for her short and dark hair and her sharp face. She looked miserable and starving and morally wrecked, just as he did when she came to save him from the claws of Ramsay Bolton.

She took a moment before realizing, and in one swift motion of his heavy sword, he freed her from her chains. She was covered in bruises and much thinner than the last time he had seen her. He usual proud and fighter's expression was nowhere to be seen. That expression he had hated as a child, that expression that had annoyed him as a man, because she looked much braver than he did. He missed it, although he never thought he would. It only belonged on her face. That ravenous courage and bold look, always sure about her moves, it was what made her Yara Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron borns. Theon cursed himself again for not finding the courage to fight their uncle when they were on that boat. Not only had he abandoned her. No, now he felt like he had killed her himself.

"You came…", she said in an exhale, her eyes tired.

His eyes watered.

Yara would never speak like that

She would not have allowed anyone to see her this weak

"The men are making a diversion near the east wing, the others are in disguised fishing boats at the port on the opposite side of the city, they will bring us back No-"

"Isn't that my dear nephew?"

Theon turned around and saw Euron standing in the middle of the corridor, his usual wicked grin wide on his face, empathizing the sparkle of craziness in his eyes.

"Oh I guess I shouldn't call you that! What is a man without a cock? A woman? So what does that make you, my niece? Oh no wait, women are way braver than you.", he said with his spiteful grin.

Everything about that man was crazy. His looks, the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he thought. He saw his sister's look grow from tired to terrorized, and at that very moment, there was no living man who was more damned. He had never hated a man this much before. No, not even the flayer, even despite all the things he made him go through for pure amusement.

My sister fears nothing

She always has and she always will

"I know no woman who would runs away when their sister need them.", he approached them.

"No one is going anywhere, I'll make a short work of you too-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Theon threw himself on his uncle, shouting all of his anger and his fear. There was nothing left in him but a beast doomed to destroy the man in front of it, not caring if it would cost him his own life. He attacked, creating a human shield between his mad uncle and his queen, and at this moment, he swore to himself that it would be his only function until the last of his days.

"What d'ya think your doing with that toothpick little Theon? Gonna poke your uncle with it?", he said chortling, and avoiding one of Theon's attack again.

"Ya know, I was going to have my way with her before diving to battle, but perhaps the drowned God sent you so I can have my way with the both of you instead.", he said before laughing so loud that it sent shivers down the Iron-born's spine.

He got hit in the belly by one of Euron's knees, and took the occasion to land a fist between his thighs where he had already taken off his armor. He collapsed on the floor, and Theon hit him hard in the face, many times. The man spat blood and half of his teeth. He tried to use one of his knees to hit the boy where it should usually be the most painful for a man, but then cursed as the lad smirked, not even humphing at the shot. Theon finally wrapped the chains around his neck and squeezed until he could not hear him choke anymore.

He gave the man a spiteful look, and spat at the lifeless body.

"We're leaving, now!"

She stood up, and painfully walked out of the cell.

"I am so sorry for fleeing that night, he said, looking in her eyes, I will never forgive myself"

"You're here now, little brother, it's all that matters. Now stop whining and take me out of this place!", she said, her voice regaining some strength, which made the boy smile.

Not completely gone…

He nodded, before looking at the body of their uncle laying on the ground.

"His armor. It's Valyrian steel…, Jon could use it for the weapons."

He knelt beside the corpse, and started unlatching the straps that held the shoulders. He did not see the strike coming. The knob ax flew towards his head, hitting his side with such strength that it made his vision blur and almost blew his brains out. He had been struck before, many times, but never with such sheer force. He only had the time to unsheathe a dagger and plant it in the man's throat before he collapsed on the ground, his head hitting the floor, with a perfect view of his uncle's bloody smile, and he tasted the copper on the side of his lips, and the blood coming from his own broken skull blinded him as he heard his sister scream, slightly fading into an unceasing humming.

"Nooo!", he heard his sister scream, before he saw her with his other eye take the ax and crush Euron's scull with it.

"Theon?! Theon, can you hear me?! Theon, we need to go back home! Theon!", he heard her shriek, with a higher pitched voice.

"Yara", he figured to articulate with all the blood in his mouth, "go", he said coughing, almost drowning in his own blood, "go before the soldiers come back…"

"I'm not leaving you to die!", she said, wrapping his arm around her frame and vainly trying to carry him. She dragged him to the nearest door, and they stood on a balcony over the sea, where the soldiers could not see them. Normally, she would have been able to carry him easily, but the months of torture and rape by Euron had weakened her more than she thought.

"Yara, stop, leave me here…"

"I won't! You're my brother, you're Iron-born! Toughen up, we'll get through this, this is an order from your queen!", she said, before falling down on the paved ground.

"Theon please, you can't die now!", she said shaking him, as if to jolt life in his broken frame again.

The like was roaming in his eyes, he had trouble keeping them open, but he was glad that the only thing he could see was her. The fresh breeze on winter was freezing the blood that had not had a chance to dry yet, still spilling from his head and drizzling on the stone ground.

"I should've died many years ago, alongside my brother at a wedding", he said painfully, before giving a death rattle that set his lungs on fire.

"Now I'm dying for my queen, this is better than any death I could dream of.", he said, trying to smile, before breathing for the last time.

Yara saw the life writhe out of her little brother's eyes. A tear escaped her usually fierce eyes as she crawled to him and shook him, before shutting his eyes and feeling the tear shed and splash over her little brother's cheek.

Born in water and salt, died in water and salt

She pulled the body, and threw him over the wall, and watched it fall in the sea.

He was Iron-born

"What is dead may never die…", she whispered, before taking the armor and leaving to retrieve her men.

The curtains prevented light from coming in. She was laying in the big bed, staring at the canopy. The sheets were covered in blood, she had asked to be alone. The tiny, cold body was still resting on her chest. She gently caressed the tiny strands of blonde hair on the deformed scalp of the newborn girl. She had been unable to stop the tears from falling, she could taste the salt on the side of her lips again.

Qyburn had been the one helping her birth the child. She had not wanted any midwife or handmaiden to help her through the pain. It was the first time that Jaime had not been here to see their baby come into this world, the first time he was not here to hold her hand, to tell her everything was going to be fine. Labor had been pure torture, and had lasted over a day. For over a day, her lower half felt like it was about to break apart at any point, slowly turning her mad with suffering, ripping hisses of pain out of her. She was sure that she could have handled it on her own. The maester had shown her the misshapen head, and when she had not heard the girl cry, but squeak and struggling to breathe, she had realized that she would not be able to go through another loss alone.

She had stretched her arms, and he had given her the newborn without a word before leaving.

The girl had squeaked. Cersei had felt all the distress and the pain in her daughter's voice.

"Shh, dear princess Lelia, everything will be fine now...", she said with her soothing, mother's voice.

"Do not worry, my love, I will not let the evil things hurt you."

The baby squeaked again, and the tears fell down Cersei's cheeks.

"Roar, little lion. I will not let them come near you. Not the wolves who howl in the night, nor the dragons who breathe fire, the bears of the north, the foxes of the south, the birds in the sky, the beasts in the sea..."

She shut Lelia's eyes, and slowly rocked her until she could not hear her pain anymore, only the sound of her own sorrow.

"They are far away, we are just lions now."

She heard the screams outside, but she did not care. She felt weak and mournful, she did not have the force to look outside the window, nor the will to see the abomination that this city had become. All that mattered was her little one.

The door creaked open. She did not find the force to shout at whomever entered the room. She heard the stranger slowly make his way to her bed. She did not look at him, she knew who he was and why he was there. She held her lifeless infant tight, and laid her head on the feathery pillow without wiping her drenched cheeks.

As she closed her eyes, she felt his strong gloved hands fold around her neck, and squeeze. She gulped for air at first, but she did not try to fight back. She just held Lelia's cold little frame and thought about the Lannister dynasty that will never exist, the uncomfortable throne her daughter will never sit upon.

All will be well

As when she felt the life crawling out of her weak body, the only words she could remember were those of Maggy the Frog, the witch from Volantis who had predicted her future when she was a girl. She had promised her a marriage to a king. She had promised her golden crowned children, she had promised her their deaths. She had promised her that a younger queen, more beautiful would rip everything from her. She had taken her loved one, her country, everything that mattered.

"You will be queen, for a time. Then comes another, younger, more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear. And when the tears have drowned you, the Valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

The maid was arranging the bedlinen and, as always, did not miss an occasion for their eyes to meet. Before she could utter any word, he spoke.

"Shouldn't you be learning how to fight like the others? You're old enough, aren't you?", he said, and hoped she would take it as a reproach.

After all the things he went through, the last thing he wanted to do was flirt with the chambermaids. True, that they were pleasant to look at. They all had dark hair, snow like skin, a lean frame and doe like eyes, a perfect description of the northern beauty. But they should also know that he had just left the only woman he had ever been with, the mad ruler of the south, and his twin sister, beyond everything. Their relationship was no secret anymore, even here, in the far north. It was no secret either that she was pregnant with his child, everyone knew. But these maidens did not have the decency to leave him alone when he needed it. He had shouted at a few of them. He had never done that before. He had always been respectful towards servants and soldiers who were considered to be less important than him, but he had never considered anyone to be less important than he was. Not everyone agreed with him on that point. Cersei, most of all. His father, too, even Bronn. His brother, though, shared his love for commoners. When he rode North, he expected to spend more time with him. But he had barely seen him. Only the evening he arrived, he had a glimpse of smile from him when he stated he wanted to pledge himself to the army of the Living. But since then he had not seen his younger brother, and learned only recently that he was on a mission in King's Landing, but that no one should be aware of his presence there, that the plan was to free Ellaria Martell and Yara Greyjoy, and make it look like an Iron born Rebellion.

But he knew his brother was not gone to free the Dragon queen's allies. She was the first to prevent people of importance to take part in these kind of missions. No, he was in King's Landing for a more important matter, something only he could take care of. And he did not want to think about it.

Because despite being mad and spiteful and incredibly selfish, despite threatening to kill him, he had loved her once, she had been the mother of his children.

He thought about the child she was bearing. He had asked himself before if she had lied about it's existence, only to keep his loyalty. May she be really pregnant or not, it had not worked. He wondered what would happen with the child, should it be born before Tyrion would take her life.

I could be a father for the first time

He remembered his conversation with Myrcella, on the boat, right before she died in his arms. He remembered the look in her eyes when she told him she knew about him being her father. She was his daughter, she had his golden hair, his green eyes, and despite looking a lot like Cersei too, she was kind, the kindest creature this world has ever known. He wondered how such a perfect being could have been created by such dreadful parents. Maybe the Gods had decided to show them what perfection was when she came into the world, just before showing them what happens to perfect things in this insane universe. This moment had been the best moment in his entire life, right before it became his most sorrowful memory.

I would be a father, not an uncle, not a guard, a father. For the second time…

But he brushed these happy dreams away, he did not allow himself to fantasize about what his life could become, he had caused too much harm for that.

A knock on the door.

"Come in", he said, tightening the straps of his golden hand.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Ser Jaime."

He recognized the voice. Another person he did not find the courage to face since his arrival here.

Brienne of Tarth

He stood up and offered her a seat. He noticed she was still carrying his sword, with the lion head on the hilt. It made him feel proud, but he wondered why she did not change it. She was sworn to northern lords after all, and northerners are not well known for their liking for lions.

"You kept the lion.", he said smiling.

"I thought Sansa Stark would have had you remove it, just for symbolism, she is known to care for little details like those."

"She…did ask, but I refused and she did not insist.", the woman sad with a formal tone.

"Why?", he teased her.

He saw unease grow on her large face, and she looked away and took a deep breath.

"I wanted to tell you, I… you made the choice that seemed right to you, even if it was difficult, even if it meant breaking vows. It may not look like it now, but that was the right decision-"

"So you know too.", he cut her calmly.

"That they're off to kill Cersei.", he added coldly.

"I was… informed of that, yes. I know you love her, I just-"

"Loved.", he cut her again.

"I loved her. And then I left her.", he said, slowly walking to the window.

He looked out, but there was not much to see except for muddy snow and people running around collecting rations or training. His room was small and below the ground, right next to the soldier's rooms, like any other officer. He was lucky enough to have a room, he was lucky enough to be alive. He had not expected so much by coming here. He had tried to kill the Queen he later pledged himself to after all. But somehow the Queen was in a forgiving mood, and surely her councilors advised her to keep him alive so he could provide information about the southern situation. And Jaime knew that surely his brother must have helped somehow.

"And I want you to know it was the right decision."

He inhaled sharply. He knew it was the right decision, it was the logic decision. But he could not help but feel a little bit sorrowful. He had never left Cersei. They had shared a womb, been raised together, and then he spent the rest of his life serving her, making sure she was safe, trying and failing to protect their children. Leaving her felt like failing her too, failing the child that is not yet born, and that never will be.

"Ser Jaime, you haven't been eating much, you train and then you disappear in this room until the next morning, they even thought you came here to spy-"

"Who sent you?", he asked coldly.

He could not look at her, he did not find the courage. She was the embodiment of loyalty, of everything that was right, how could the scam that he was stare into her eyes and tell her he came here for her? How could he even pretend that he deserved her? He who only took two good decisions in his entire life, slaying his King and betraying his Queen.

She stood up abruptly. He had hurt her, he knew he had, although he would not see any trace of harm if he turned around and looked at her.

"Myself, Jaime. I came here because I am worried for you. I came here to help you stop torturing yourself-", she said, sadness somehow hidden under the formal tone.

"And how do you intent on doing that?! Every single decision I've ever taken has led to wars, murders or betrayals, how does that not make me look like a wretch in your eyes!", he said raising his tone. He looked mad, he knew. He also realized what he had just indirectly confessed.

But she shook her head.

"You might not be what people expect to see when they meet a man of honor, but you are a good man, Jaime. He found the courage to go against those who had power, you took the right decisions when you had the chance."

"What do you know about that?"

"You think I didn't learn what kind of monstrosities the people had to endure under the mad King? You think people who knew him don't know that you've spared their lives and those of many innocents? You think the Imp did not tell us how he escaped his father's sentence to death? You think I forgot everything you did for me? And most of all, you've been too humble to claim yourself as the one who saved all those lives, that makes you a good man.

I don't care if you broke oaths you made to murderous rulers or spiteful lords, you took the right decision when you could."

He said nothing. It was the first time anyone had complimented him about his actions, the first time anyone understood his true intents.

"And you are here now. I was right to trust you.", she finished.

For a moment, only the deaf sound of people rumbling outside could be heard, and they just stood here in the little room, the ceiling almost touching her straw like hair. The air in the room was heavy, almost hard to inhale, and Jaime had to concentrate to keep on breathing and not loose himself in the light that was shining in her big blue eyes, a light that reminded him of the blue sky he used to stare at when he lived in Casterly Rock, like the sapphire of the ocean around the island of Tarth. Suddenly, she was no longer this fighting beast everyone made fun of, but the voice of the Father himself. Brave and strong, just and rightful. But she had something more something he could not place that made him sad and curious at the same time. A tingle in his stomach.

"Thank you"

The guard burst into the room.

"Your grace! The news! From King's Landing!", he said waving a sealed scroll him.

He was sitting at the table of the great Hall with Sansa, the both of them not able to find sleep.

The sky was dark outside, it was quite late and the others were asleep since quite some time.

"Summon Daenerys Targaryen, as well as Varys, Bran and Arya. And Jaime Lannister, too, he might want to know. The others can wait until tomorrow.", she said standing up and taking the scroll in her hand.

"Very well, m'lady.", he said before running out of the room, looking for chambermaids to help him summon everyone in the shortest time.

Jon's face was as pale as moonlight, and he was staring at the ground, torturing himself inside.

If this failed, then we're doomed

We just gave them a reason to attack us

"Your grace…", Sansa said, holding the sealed scroll for him to read.

He took a deep breath, before taking the small piece of paper. His heart accelerated at the sight of the seal.

A lion

He opened it quickly, his hands shaking.

Tyrion's Handwriting

To Jon Snow and Daene-, he skipped all the titles and the salutations. There was a kind of pressure, clenching at his guts, and beads of cold sweat were forming on his forehead, urging him to read as fast as he could.

Cersei Lannister officially died after giving birth to her fourth still born child.

The former Hand of the Queen, now governor of the South, is sitting on the throne as we speak, readying his armies to fight alongside the army of the Living. The plans of the scorpion are in our possession.

We are currently sailing back North with Yara Greyjoy and her fleet. Iron borns are escorting Ellaria Sand to her home for her to send her armies North.

Euron Greyjoy is out of trouble, defeated by Theon Greyjoy who also had his last breath, as well as the Baratheon bastard who was lost fighting valiantly.

We will reach Winterfell within no more than two moons.

Jon suddenly felt sad for Theon. They had been raised as brothers, they knew each other since they were boys.

But at least he died for a good cause, he thought.

He felt sad for Gendry too. Despite being arrogant and way too fond of Arya for his liking, he was a good lad. But the relieve he felt as he read about Cersei Lannister's death went beyond words. He was so appeased now, after days of torture and hair pulling and sleepless nights.

The summoned ones finally entered the room, all of their hair ruffled and sleepy eyed. They had all obviously been woken up, and were still in a dreamy state. Expect for Arya who looked more alert than ever. Angry, almost.

"So what is it?! What happened?!", she asked quickly, her voice high pitched.

He read them the message, expressed his condolences to Arya, but her face remained perfectly blank. He expressed his condolences to Jaime Lannister too, who took a deep breath in before turning his heels and walking away after nodding and wishing them a good night.

Sansa looked a little sad, and wished them a good night before leaving too.

Theon. He saved her life…

But despite the grief, he could not help but look at Daenerys and smile. Finally he was breathing. They stood a chance. Their kin stood a chance.

Arya nodded at them, before taking Bran with her on her way out.

He looked deeply in Daenerys' purple eyes, before she took him in her arms. He could cry. He felt so relieved.