Arya
Arya's heart threatened to jump out of her chest as she spotted the banner of House Stark fluttering above the column of approaching riders. The sight of the white wolf running next to the column of riders confirmed what she already knew. Jon was returning to her.
Tears burned in her eyes as she smoothed her hand over her small blade gifted to her by her brother before his departure to the Night's Watch.
Needle, she had called. Back then she thought the travel to King's Landing would be a grand adventure. Yet Cersei Lannister and her vile son Joff destroyed all her illusions and now she found herself here after a long odyssey of trials and blood.
She was now barely able to remain still, her eyes fixed on the rider perched on a dark destrier.
At first she didn't recognize Jon. He was now a grown man, wore a beard and his hair was much longer, nearly reaching to his shoulders.
Ghost greeted her first. He stormed towards her and threw her in the mood. He was now nearly as big as a horse, the wolf's wet tongue licking over her face.
"My Lady!" The Blackfish exclaimed, fear apparent on his weather-worn face.
"No need, Grand-Uncle!" she replied and pulled herself back to her knees. „Ghost is just greeting me!"
"I see, my Lady," he grumbled and Arya buried her face in Ghost's soft fur. „I missed you too."
"It seems Ghost was quicker," a gruff voice added. The sound of it warmed her heart and when she lifted her head she found her brother smiling down at her.
"Jon!" she exclaimed and didn't hesitate to jump into his arm. He was surprised nearly dropped her, but Arya was quick enough and enclosed him in a tight hug.
"Careful, little sister!" he chided and returned her hug, before placing her back on the ground.
"You have grown," he remarked, a tearful smile playing on his lips as he ruffled through her hair. „I hardy recognize you, little sister."
"And you have a beard…you look like father," she replied, but received no smile in return.
You fool, Arya thought. He is still sad about father's death. I shouldn't have mentioned him.
"I see…you still have your little blade," he remarked, his dark eyes fixed on Needle.
"Needle kept me safe!" she confirmed and couldn't help but to grin. She felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders and the dark past was briefly forgotten.
"I see," he said, his voice laced with a hint discomfort. „I am glad Needle was of help to you. I assume your travel wasn't very pleasant?"
"No, my travel wasn't very pleasant," she confirmed hesitatingly. „I will tell you all about it if you care to hear."
"Of course," he replied softly and leaned down to place a kiss on her brow. „We can talk through the whole night if you like," he added, and shifted his attention back to the Blackfish, who had observed the whole exchange in grim silence.
"My Lord," her Jon greeted the older man. „I am pleased about your success. There is much we need to speak about."
"I hardly used my sword," the Blackfish replied gruffly. „Your sister freed the hostages and they butchered the Frey Lords in their beds. Taking Riverrun was a child's play. The servants massacred the ruling Frey Lord and Lady Roslin opened the gates for us."
"And Lord Edmure?" her Jon inquired. „Were you able to free him?"
"Aye," her Uncle confirmed. „He is anxious to meet you, your Grace."
…
His wife's presence helped to improve her Uncle's condition. He looked healthier and now and then she even saw a smile playing on his pale lips.
It was not hard to understand why. His wife, though a Frey by birth, was a sweet girl and his son a healthy boy graced with a mob of red hair. Looking at him pained Arya, because he showed a great resemblance to Rickon.
Rickon is waiting for me in Winterfell. And Sansa.
"This is Jon Snow, the King in the North," the Blackfish introduced Jon. Her Uncle Edmure smiled tightly and lowered his head in greeting.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, your Grace."
Jon smiled, but seemed to sense her Uncle's discomfort. His smile didn't reach his face.
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Tully," her brother answered and graced Lady Roslin with a smile. „I am also pleased to make you acquaintance, Lady Roslin."
"The pleasure is all mine," Lady Roslin answered softly and dropped a curtsy. „Your sister told us all about you. We owe you a great debt."
Then she pulled on Edmure's arm. "Isn't that true, dear husband?"
"Of course," her Uncle said at last and nodded his head in confirmation. „We owe you a great debt. If there is something I can do to help you…just speak the word."
"Well, there is something we need to discuss," Jon added. „It concerns Daenerys Targaryen and Cersei Lannister."
Arya read disapproval on her Uncle's face, but no voice of protest left his mouth.
Shortly after, Lady Roslin led them into a large solar. There was a hearth, a large oak table and a dozen of chairs placed around the table.
Supper was served while the men conducted their talks.
"Do I understand you correctly, your Grace," Lord Royce said grimly. „You want us to fight at Queen Daenerys' side?"
"Aye," Jon confirmed and sighed deeply. His frustration was written all over his face. „Our task would be to block the goldroad. Thus the Lannister army would have no path of retreat."
"But why would the Kingslayer besiege Highgarden?" her Grand-Uncle asked and sounded rather sceptical. „Highgarden is a mighty castle."
"The Kingslayer thinks that Randyll Tarly will turn his cloak for him," Jon explained. „Lady Olenna Tyrell was able to reveal his treachery and intends to prepare a trap. The Lannister army will be allowed to besiege Highgarden and Queen Daenerys will defeat them in battle."
"I see," Lord Edmure said, blue eyes narrowed in distrust. „I assume this will be a second Field of Fire?"
"I don't think…," Jon trailed off.
"Who the fuck cares?" Arya threw in, growing frustrated with her Uncle. She loved him for the sake of her mother, but his mistrustful behaviour towards her brother was grating on her nerves. „The Lannisters are our enemy…Or do you think Tywin Lannister gave a damn about Robb's butchered men?"
"Lady Arya," the Blackfish grumbled in disapproval. „I don't think…," he continued, but Jon cut him off.
"I saw the dragons," her brother said, his voice brimming with subdued anger. „People will die, but I also know Cersei Lannister. She will not stop before her armies are destroyed. All I ask is that the Riverlords and the Knights of the Vale help. The matter of succession can be addressed after the battle is won."
"And what if Queen Daenerys changes her mind?" Lord Royce asked. „Your Grandfather and Uncle were murdered her mad father. She could burn our armies to cinder."
"And what use would that be?" Jon asked angrily. „She wants to win allies and she even apologized to me for her father's deeds."
"She did what?" Lord Royce asked and nearly dropped his cup of wine. „Surely, you are jesting?"
"No, I am not," Jon replied through gritted teeth. „She knows about her father's cruelty."
"That may be," Lord Royce replied sceptically. „But there is another possible explanation. Maybe she was just trying to fool you. I always respected your Lord Father, but he was too trusting. You have much of him…," he continued, but Arya decided to make her thoughts known.
"I think you brave lot are just pissing your pants," Arya mocked and ignored their shocked expressions. „My brother came back alive from Dragonstone. Doesn't that prove that the Dragon Queen is willing to cooperate?"
Even Jon looked shocked, but her blunt approach worked wonders.
"Lady Arya speaks true," Lord Edmure agreed hesitatingly. "I intend to keep my word. I will convince my Lords to fight at Queen Daenerys' side."
"Edmure," the Blackfish said and opened his mouth in protest, but her Uncle's determined look silenced him.
"Very well," Lord Royce agreed at last and frowned at Arya. „We will fight…I am certainly not pissing my pants."
…
"What a stubborn lot!" Arya remarked, a smile curling on her lips.
"They are," Jon agreed and continued to flex his hand. „But I expected their hostile reactions. They don't hold much love for the Targaryens…," he trailed off.
Arya didn't know what to make of her brother's words. He spoke so favourable of the Queen and even defended her cause. When did he become a Targaryen supporter?
"No," she agreed and sat down on the opposing chair. The popping fire calmed her and reminded her of home. „But their mistrust is understandable… Or did you forget about the Rebellion?"
"No," Jon answered and lifted his head to meet her gaze. He looked conflicted and even a little fearful.
„You are right…," he trailed off. His hesitation annoyed her and she decided to get straight to the point.
"Tell me already," she prodded impatiently. „What do you want to tell me? I told you about my past adventures and you told me about yours. Yet I can see that there is more you want to tell me."
He nodded his head and exhaled deeply.
"There is something I need to tell you, but nobody can know about it…"
"My lips are sealed," she promised quickly, her impatience getting the better of her. „Tell me about your secret."
"Arya…I am not your brother…," he stuttered.
Arya was stunned.
"What?"
"I am not your brother and Eddard Stark was not my father. He lied to your lady mother…my mother was Lyanna Stark."
Arya gasped, still trying to comprehend what her brother just told her.
"But…who…," she stuttered, but when she saw the pained look on Jon's face she knew the answer. Lyanna Stark was taken by Prince Rhaegar…he raped and murdered her.
"Prince Rhaegar Targaryen," Jon spoke the name she was unable to force over her lips.
"Oh, Jon!" she exclaimed and leaned over to squeeze his hands.
"He didn't rape her," Jon added quickly and increased her confusion. „He loved her and they got married. I am no bastard."
Arya frowned, but what he told her made sense. Her Lord Father often compared her to Aunt Lyanna. Arya would never allow anyone to rape her. She would rather cut her own throat.
"Jon," she said and tightened her grip on his hands. „I don't care if you are the son of this stupid Prince, but you will always be my brother. And your secrets is safe…I won't tell anyone."
Jon smiled and ruffled her hair.
"I thank you, little sister," Jon replied and grinned. „It is a great relief to speak openly."
"I am always prepared to listen," she offered. „And I am glad that you told me the truth."
"There is more," Jon added hesitatingly. „I need your help…after the battle…Cersei Lannister needs to die."
"Of course," she confirmed without hesitation. „I will go to King's Landing and end her life."
"No!" Jon disagreed firmly. „That would be far too dangerous. King's Landing is full of wildfire…I won't lose you again."
"Lose me again?" she asked and wrinkled her brows in confusion.
"Nothing," he replied mysteriously. „I trust in your abilities, but I don't want to endanger your life. I intend to lure Cersei Lannister out of her hiding and then you will be able to do your work."
"How?"
"A parley…a Grand Council…an assembly of the High Lords of Westeros…call it what you will," he tried to explain his plans. „I want to confront the High Lords of Westeros with the true enemy to win their armies to our cause. And as I said…my hope is that Cersei will be desperate enough to attend this assembly. Then I intend to take her life and crown in one swoop…I know…your father would be ashamed of me, but Cersei cannot be trusted."
"I know," Arya confirmed the pain of Mycah's and Lady's deaths still fresh in her mind. „You are right to mistrust Cersei. You have my support, but I have one question."
"Speak," he prodded, a sad smile showing on his lips. „And I will try to answer your question."
"You are Prince Rhaegar's son…that makes you the heir…when you say that you want to take her crown…Does that mean you intend to make yourself King?"
Jon paled and shook his head.
"I don't know what I will do," her brother tried to explain. „First I need to tell Queen Daenerys the truth.
"Jon," she said and decided to be as blunt as possible. „Do you like the Queen?"
"You are still as quick as I remember," he said and leaned back in his chair.
"Aye," he confirmed. „I like her very much."
"Well, she can't be too bad if you like her. I want to see her dragons."
Jon chuckled.
"I understand that, but I have other plans for you…"
…
Jaime
Jaime shivered as stepped outside. The sky was dreary and a cool breeze was blowing through the camp. Highgarden was a beautiful castle, build on different levels and graced with tiled balconies overseeing green meadows and hills. He saw flowers, vines and other greenery snaking its way around the walls and couldn't help but to feel a hint of regret. It was a paradise built by human hands.
Why Cersei hated the Tyrells so much was not difficult to explain. The Tyrell Queen dared to intrude on her territory and paid with her life.
She is using you, Brienne had told him during their meeting in Riverrun. And she will throw you away once she has no use for you anymore.
As always, Jaime had defended Cersei. They both survived the War of the Five Kings, the death of their father and daughter. He had hated her after hearing about her entanglement with Lancel, but their daughter died and he told himself that they would be able to overcome this betrayal.
Now he knew the truth. The Cersei he loved died with Joff and Myrcella. Not even Tommen's death moved her. Even their soft-hearted boy was a traitor in her eyes for loving the Tyrell girl.
After the destruction of the Sept he had every intention to leave her, but the revelation of her pregnancy held him back.
We have another chance, she had assured him with her ever sweet voice. Another child. A future.
Bronn called him a fool, but he was still here, helping him to fight his enemies.
"It seems Lord Tarly is here to stage his mummery," Bronn remarked, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet.
"It seems so," Jaime agreed and spotted the banner of House Tarly. Lord Tarly himself led the large column of shining armour, playing the loyal subject.
It was Jaime's plan, but he held little love for the man. A man who is prepared to stab his liege Lord in the back cannot be trusted, but then his sister decided to put her trust in Euron Greyjoy.
Jaime hated Robert Baratheon, but Euron Greyjoy didn't deserve anything less than a sword through his gut. Trusting him was madness, but Cersei claimed the crown and not Jaime.
Maybe I should have claimed the crown for myself, he thought not for the first time. Every fool can call himself a King these days…
"I think it is time to play our part, my Lord," Bronn mocked and Jaime agreed. He pulled the visor of his helmet down, unsheathed his sword and sent their heavy cavalry to engage Randyll Tarly's men in a staged battle.
The cries of horses, the clinking of steel and the sound of war horns rolled over the valley. Then another horn was sounded and the infantry marched forward.
The sight of the dying men filled Jaime with shame, but he had no other choice. He was barely able to muster more than twenty-thousand men and at least one third of them were green boys. Trickery was the only solution for his dilemma.
Father would be proud.
"I think it is time to retreat," Bronn remarked jokingly and Jaime agreed. Moments later he ordered the retreat. They even left everything behind, pretending to flee the battlefield.
Now all Randyll Tarly had to do was to play the saviour and stab Willas Tyrell in the back.
Thus they left Highgarden behind them and moved back to the goldroad. The road was not optimal for a travelling army, but they planned to make camp near the next town and to return to Highgarden in the morning.
Yet they never made it to the next town.
"Did you hear that?" Bronn asked, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet.
It took Jaime a moment to realize what he meant, but then he heard it too. Suddenly, the ground started to shake. Like rolling thunder the sound of horse hooves filled the air and Jaime's heart nearly skipped a beat.
"I hear it…I hear it!" he confirmed and whirled his horse around.
He heard tales about the Dothraki, but nothing prepared him for this.
Hundreds of them stormed down the slope, the echo of their war cries filling the air. Yet that was only the beginning.
Suddenly, a massive black dragon swooped down from the sky, hovering above their men like a massive kite, blending out all sunlight.
"Fuck!" he heard Bronn curse as he tried to call the men to order. „Keep together!"
Jaime angled his head to get a look at their men. Fear was written over their faces and many a man shuddered like a maid before the bridegroom.
A loud roar filled the air and hot flames pierced their lines. They burned in colours of orange, red and yellow. Higher and higher they rose and extinguished their lines, one after another.
Many a man was not even able to cry out, before they were burned to a crisp, the smell of burned flesh filling his nostrils.
Jaime knew it was no use to fight. Their plan failed and he needed to save as many as possible. Cersei's crown was not worth the death of these brave men.
"Retreat!" he called and heard Bronn do the same. „Retreat!"
Yet their lines were broken by the Dothraki cavalry, any semblance of order completely lost. Most of their men fled, their crimson cloaks blurred by the whirled up smoke and dust.
Suddenly, the dragon swooped down from the sky and unfurled another sea of flames upon them. A moment later hundreds of men were gone, Bronn among them. Jaime felt sick, unable to comprehend the feelings whirling up inside him.
Was it fear or anger? He was unable to place it.
"Retreat after me! Down the road!" he shouted and a good hundred men followed his command, riding down the road like madman. „After me!"
His eyes burned from the smoke and his arm ached. The flames touched him, but he was still alive.
We only need to get away, he thought as they left the enemy lines behind them. Then we can regroup.
Hours had passed since they left the battle behind them and Jaime was finally able to get a picture of his defeated army.
Several thousand men were left, scattered and following after him like beaten dogs.
He felt bile rise up in his throat. His mouth was dry and he tasted ash on his lips.
Tears burned in his eyes as listened the .
The war is lost, he knew, but he doubted that Cersei would agree with him.
"My Lord!" one of his captains called out. He was a stocky man and graced with a hawk-like nose. His face was drenched in sweat and his right ear heavily burned. „Enemies ahead!"
"What?!" he exclaimed and narrowed his eyes against the blinding sun.
He blinked once, twice, but after the third time he knew that it was no illusion. Maybe two thousand men, mounted cavalry blocked their path, the familiar banners of House Tully and Arryn fluttering above them.
"Form a line!" he ordered his men and most of them obeyed, much to his relief. „Form a line! Enemy ahead!"
Yet it was too late. A horn roared and the enemy attacked them without mercy.
Jaime cut down one man after another. His anger stirred him to action, blood soiling his blade.
He crossed blades with a knight of the Vale and cut off his head in one swoop. Then he picked up a spear and buried it the next enemy.
He was beyond fear and death.
He counted a dozen of men, but it was not enough. Suddenly, a massive white wolf emerged from the sea of men and buried his teeth in the neck of his horse.
He was barely able to move out of the way, before the animal could smash him to pieces.
Slowly, he pulled himself back to his feet and found a rider observing him from the distance.
Said rider removed his helmet and revealed a long face, his dark hair falling around his shoulders like raven feathers.
Quickly, the rider climbed from his horse, his blade in hand. It was made of Valyrian Steel, the smoky black surface shining like a black diamond.
Jaime freed his blade. Widow's Wail.
No word was spoken as their blades kissed, the sound of steel mixing with the cries of the battle.
Left and right the blades met, one blow stronger than the next. Jaime was exhausted from battle, his feet weak like jelly. Sweat was rolling down his temples as he stumbled over his feet and lost his footing.
Pathetic, he thought and felt a jolt of pain rushing his shoulder. His armour was damanged, his skin red and swollen. Pathetic.
"It is over, Kingslayer," the sombre young man declared, his sharp blade biting into Jaime's neck.
"Then do it…make it end," Jaime spat, his voice strained and distant to his ears.
The young man shook his head. He recognized him now. It was the bastard boy…the bastard boy he mocked for joining the Night's Watch.
"No, you will be our prisoner."
…
Daenerys
Her dragons continued to circle over Highgarden. They looked happy, but Daenerys wanted nothing more than to leave this place. The battle was won, but she felt no triumph. She was proud of her children, but burning man alive was not something she relished.
Olenna Tyrell didn't seem to share her regrets, but Daenerys didn't lose half her family to wildfire.
Jon Snow's allies were different. They eyed her with mistrust and sometimes she heard them whisper behind her back.
To them she was still the Mad King's daughter. Jon Snow promised her negotiations, but she doubted it will be enough to wash away their mistrust.
Tomorrow, she told herself and walked along a particularly beautiful fountain. It woke a sweet memory from her childhood.
Lacking coin, she and her brother Viserys were forced to bath in a fountain, which brought them much trouble.
She even recalled her brother's smile, but not long after this day he was forced to sell their mother's crown.
"Your Grace…," a familiar voice called her back to the present moment. She turned around and found the King in the North, devoid of his cloak and armour.
Even his surcoat was gone, the sleeves of his white tunic rolled up. Sweat was covering his head and his hair looked wet as if he sprinkled it with water.
The sight made her cheeks burn and rekindled old feelings she believed long buried. Tyrion wanted her to wed him and she was beginning to think that such an arrangement could prove quite pleasant.
Jon Snow was comely to look upon and graced with a rather sombre temper, but that mattered little to her. She needed a man she could trust and Jon Snow was such a man.
"Jon Snow," she greeted and decided to be less formal. „I hope your men are satisfied with their lodging. Lady Olenna promised me to take care of it."
"They are satisfied," he confirmed, a ghost of a smile hushing over his lips. „But don't expect words of gratitude. Like my sister would say…they are a stubborn lot."
"Sounds like your sister and I would get along splendidly," she replied. „When will I be able to meet her?"
"She won't come here," he answered apologetically. „I sent her to Winterfell. She did not approve of my decision, but she listens to me."
"A shame," she remarked and smiled. „I would have liked to meet her."
"You can still meet her," he countered. „Do you remember my offer?"
"Of course," she confirmed by the change of topic. „But I told you…I can't send my armies North before Cersei is defeated."
"I have a better idea," he countered and smiled mischievously. „We could use your dragons and fly to Winterfell. I doubt it would take more than a week."
"I like the idea," she replied. „But first I want to speak to your allies and then we need to return to Dragonstone."
"Of course," he agreed and nodded his head in understanding. „Val and my men are waiting for me."
"I see," she said. She often saw him and Val spending time together. Even Tyrion considered them more than friends, but Val never made such allusions to her.
I will ask her about it, she decided. As subtle as possible.
"And Lord Tarly?" he asked and changed the topic again. „What will happen to him?"
"I don't know," she replied and shrugged her shoulders. „He is Lord Tyrell's bannerman."
"And the Kingslayer?" he inquired curiously.
"He is my hostage," she replied. „Lord Tyrion thinks he could be useful to force Cersei into submission. I have yet to speak to him, but I rather not speak about him. I am tired."
"Me too," he agreed and dipped his head. „I will leave you then, your Grace."
"Very well," she agreed and felt slightly disappointed. „Have a good night, your Grace."
…
As always, thank you for the reviews.