Chapter 38

Jon – digging deep

They had let him gone at it first, Jon reflected, but that had not lasted long. Tormund and Tyrion had helped him from the very start and as soon as the Northern lords realized their gods were not raining fire upon them nor icicles they were a little more open to the idea. It wasn't until Bran's voice spoke at them all through the Weirwood tree – few recognized his voice – that all of them were finally convinced. They'd dug hard and deep and had discovered some shards of dragon glass along the way. They were very nearly there, Jon reckoned. Soon they'd hit the treasure, and sure enough, he heard jubilant voices shout a few feet away from him.

"We've found it!"

"It's here!"

"You did it!" That was Brienne's voice, praising her husband. Jon looked up and saw Tormund standing there with the largest grin on his face. In his hand a large but thin piece of dragon glass. "This should kill quite a few of them," he said, "enough for spears and axes."

"Swords and arrows," Arya said. "Daggers, all with a sharp blade…"

"It seems the gods have looked with mercy upon us," Jon said, in his most commanding voice. "They have granted us this gift. Now it's up to us to get to work."

The Dragon Queen had been standing by. Clearly unconvinced until the tree had spoken. Jon had noticed that had startled her somewhat; startled and intrigued her no doubt. He went and stood beside her. "Perhaps now we stand a chance," he said.

"Perhaps," she replied.

Jaime – haunted by nightmares

When Jaime dreamt about dragons for the third night in a row, he decided he needed some dream wine. He crawled out of bed and noticed Suzanne had gone on one of her nightly strolls again. Picking mushrooms no doubt. As far as Jaime knew she hadn't found a new lover yet.

He found the dream wine as he prepared himself a cup, she came in. "You're awake," she said. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Dreaming again," he said, "tell me, you haven't sent me these dreams have you?"

"Which ones?" Suzanne asked as she put her basket with mushrooms down. "It's not something I do often."

"Dragons," he said, gritting his teeth. "Dragons, night after night. They like burning people to char but my brother thinks they're fit to ride. Like they're oversized horses…."

"He dreams big, your little brother," she quipped, but Jaime wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"He's putting himself into harm's way," Jaime insisted. "He never longed to be the hero, yet now he rides those beasts? Imagining himself a knight? A bloody Targaryen?"

Suzanne smiled apologetically. "I don't know," she said. "I didn't sent them, the dreams…"

"I wish I was there," Jaime said. "I could tell him not to. Not that he would listen…."

"The Dragon Queen is there too," Suzanne said. "You can't visit him, she'd have your head."

"She'd burn me, like her father intended to," Jaime said. "Yet I think that I should go."

"For you brother?" Suzanne asked. "Or for Brienne?" He smiled at her; she knew him better than he liked.

"For myself," he said. "I feel trapped here. I want to fight as well. And if my life is forfeit…."

"Then it will be forfeit?" she said, sneeringly. "How noble of you!"

"Don't mock me," Jaime hissed. "I've been longing to for quite some time already."

"I'm not mocking you," she said. "I'll come with you. Time to find my mother… Trace my history, like your brother has been trying to discover his."

Jaime sensed his eyes lit up. "You will?" he whispered. "You'll come with me?"

"Yes," she said. "For a time."

He nodded. "Very good," he said. "Perhaps that will make me sleep undisturbed."

Suzanne smiled at him. "Better drink the wine as well," she said with a laugh.

Tyrion – in the armory

"I don't think I'll be of much help," he said, as he saw the spears, axes and swords stacking up in the armory. Sansa was inspecting the quality of each blade while her younger sister was trying them out on a puppet made out of cloth and hay. Sansa looked at him appraisingly.

"You will be on that dragon of yours," she said. "It will do all the work for you, but if you insist, you might take a bow and arrows. Are you any good at shooting from a far range?"

"Drinking is all I'm good for," he quipped. "These days…"

The Lady of Winterfell picked up on his tone. "The Queen still angry with you then?" she said.

He nodded carefully. "She tries not to show it too much, but yes, I think she still is."

Sansa shrugged. "She just doesn't like the idea of sharing her 'children,' isn't that what she calls them?"

"They are like children to her," Tyrion defended his Queen.

She shook her head at him. "They are the farthest from children than anything I could think of," Sansa said.

"She raised them," he disagreed. "She sees them unlike others do."

"As do you," she said, "as does Jon. She cannot claim them anymore. They are a weapon for us all as well, a weapon against the enemy."

"Better not let you hear her say that," Tyrion said. "She won't take kindly to them being referred to as such."

"I'll bear that in mind," Sansa replied. "So do you want a bow? A spear?"

"A dagger will do nicely," he said.

"Not much use from the air," Sansa pointed out.

"That's true," he said, grinning at her, "but it may help to skin a dead rabbit or two…."

She slapped him on the wrist when she realized he'd been fooling her.

"You'll have a bow," Sansa decided for him. "A bow and arrows and you will practice each day from this very moment onwards. You'll be our shield in the air."

Tyrion smiled at her. "Thank you," he said. "Air Shield sure beats Imp as a nickname."