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NOTICE: This is where I must apologise. I have been consistently posting almost every day since I begun this fanfic, but unfortunately the next update to this story will be on SATURDAY 13TH AUGUST-ONE WEEK FROM TODAY. I am so sorry, but I will not have internet access until that time. After that there will be daily updates once again until this is finished-and that time is drawing nearer...

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"…so have y'thought of a name for him?"

Brienne smiled. She was sat upright on the mattress now, her strength well and truly returned to her, thanks to her hostess' care. The fire was so warm on her face-she was so grateful for it, even after a few days here, sat still on this mattress. Even the distinct smell of cows no longer bothered her. And there was only one answer to Maggie's question. "Renly."

"Renly?" Maggie blinked. "I haven't heard that one. It's…sweet."

"I used to…know…a man named Renly," Brienne explained. "He was the first man to show me kindness. He saved me from being a joke…from the day I met him, until his last day." She looked down, thinking of the young king… "Renly was a good man. I would be honoured to give my son his name."

Maggie did not look as though she quite understood-but she smiled. "Lovely, dear. My Robbert is named for me father, and my Addam for Saeb's. Not quite so grand, I don't think! Still, they're good, strong names…" Maggie paused-then decided to try her luck. "You wouldn't name him for your father?"

Brienne felt a pang as she thought of Selwyn. She prayed that Varys had told him that she was still alive, for she worried the shock of losing her, his only child, would kill him. "No…" she murmured.

"And not for…your husband's father?"

Burning agony hit as she thought of Jaime. He would probably be on a ship by now, sailing to Kings Landing and Cersei…at least he would be safe with her. If he reached her. At night, Brienne could do nothing but hope to every god there was that he was too well-guarded to let his certain dark thoughts overwhelm him, or make him do something stupid…or perhaps someone at Winterfell had told him that she was alive... "No." Brienne answered, with more conviction. "It would be a terrible idea. It couldn't be."

Again, Maggie raised her eyebrows in shock. "Eh! Everything is so complicated for yous lot, even naming your baby! I suppose that's why you highborns need all them big books to write y'stories in-you'd just forget who y'were, otherwise!"

Brienne started suddenly. Slight panic begun to set in. "You-you haven't read much of history, have you?" she asked nervously.

"Not one word. Can't read words." said Maggie lightly.

Instantly, Brienne was mortified. "Oh! I mean-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, don't worry about it. Wasn't taught, is all." But she was looking interested. "Can you? And write letters too?"

"Yes?"

Suddenly, Maggie's eyes lit up. She stood up, and hurried over to the fire, grabbing a brush and sweeping the cinders from beneath it. She spread them out on the floor before the fire until they formed a thin, grey, ashy coating on the ground. Then, she turned to the pile of wood kindling beside the firee, pulling out a sturdy twig. She turned back to Brienne. "D'you think you could write my name for me? I've never seen it written down before."

Carefully, Brienne slid from the mattress onto the floor. It was so warm in front of the fire. Only too happy to oblige the woman who had taken her in and saved her life, Brienne took the twig from her and traced "Maggie" into the ashes. Maggie herself watched in amazement as her name appeared on the floor.

"Eh! I like the twisty bit in the middle," she said, running over the letters with her finger. "It's very pretty, isn't it? I always liked the way the words look. I wish I knew what they meant, so I could read the Seven-Pointed Star. I always wanted to read the Seven-Pointed Star. All about the gods."

Brienne felt strange as she looked at Maggie, now sat beside her. She was a reasonably tall woman herself, her hair so wild. It seemed so wrong that such a woman could not read the holy book simply because of the position she had been born into.

"And those stories about the dragons." Maggie added, with a small, but excited smile. Suddenly-it was as if her whole face was illuminated. "My father used to tell me stories-from his head, of course. I loved them-wish I could remember a single thing about them! There were…" Maggie frowned, trying hard to remember. "…three. Three dragons, and men used to ride them, like horses! Can y'believe that? And then they conquered the land with them…"

Brienne smiled. "Two of them were women. Aegon Targaryen, and his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys."

Maggie's eyes widened in wonder. "Women? Riding dragons? No…"

"Women," Brienne felt proud. "Visenya Targaryen was a great warrior."

Maggie looked more shocked than ever. "Well, I never heard of that!" But she had begun to grin excitedly. "Gods be good, I suppose she was quite something…then again, I suppose if men can ride dragons, why shouldn't women?" She thought hard. "I suppose it's them's skirts. I cannae imagine what they'd do with them's skirts."

Brienne laughed, enjoying Maggie's utter shock. "They managed, I'm sure!"

Maggie was still gazing in awe. "Gods be good…" she said again, shaking her head. "Women riding dragons…and to think I haven't even rode a horse! Well…" She looked down, a little sadly now, though she still smiled. "All the dragons are gone now…and the women you say rode them with them, I s'pose…"

Brienne felt a little strange. She knew she shoudn't. But she could not resist. "They're...not gone."

Maggie stopped dead-then burst out laughing. "Now, you do say these funny things!"

"They're not gone," Brienne repeated, remembering Lord Tyrion's stories of the women, not from three hundred years ago, but right now, alive today, who had brought the dragons back from the dead and could fly on them, could ride them like Visenya Targaryen had. The Queen Daenerys, the queen who had saved her child from the throne, the Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons…

She began to tell the story. By the time she had finished-Maggie looked as if she was in shock. She leaned back, breathing hard. "Dragons? Real dragons? And a woman who rides them? This is true?"

"It's true," said Brienne, forgetting her fear in her pride. "She is coming. And with her dragons, she is going to depose the queen and take the throne that is rightfully hers."

Maggie breathed out hard. There were stars in her eyes. "Well, I never…" she murmured…But then, suddenly, sharp as ever-she frowned as a seperate thought hit her. "But…the Queen-Queen Cersei-is of House Lannister, isn't she?"

"Yes?" Brienne said vaguely, still thinking about the dragon queen.

"If the queen is of House Lannister…and you are of House Lannister…why would you want her gone?" Maggie asked suspiciously. "I mean…if there is someone out there who wants you dead, surely if the queen is your family, she can protect you better than anyone?"

Brienne could have kicked herself for her clumsiness. "I'm sorry, I-"

But Maggie's brain was whirring under that wild dark hair. She may not be able to read, or write, or know history and the secrets of the world-but she was as far from stupid as it was possible to be. "It's the queen what wants you dead, isn't it?"

Brienne felt horror rising inside her. She began to panic. "That-that's why I can't stay here. That's why you're in so much danger. The longer I am here, the more you know about me, the more danger you and your-"

But Maggie was looking up at Oathkeeper, her head tilted to one side. She looked again at Brienne, now out from under her cloak, dressed in her man's clothes, her boots, her short hair. Again-she looked at the sword. "You're one of them women warriors, aren't you?"

"Well, I-"

"Why are you running from the queen?" Maggie asked, her eyes sharp. "And if you are-why are you going South? Towards her?"

"I-I couldn't stay at Winterfell-I have to reach J-"

"You came from Winterfell?"

It was enough. Brienne gave up. She looked into the eyes of her hostess, so kind and yet so sharp. So innocent, so unknowing of things…she sighed. Slowly, she took the stick again…and traced her name into the dust.

Jaime looked up at the man who was guarding the door to his cabin. "I am going to vomit."

The guard looked down at him in surprise that he even spoke. He glanced at Ser Gregor, who stood beside Jaime like the mountain he was named for. "Er…"

"Take me onto the deck." said Jaime. "I am going to vomit and I don't want to do it here."

The guard looked nervously around, unsure what to do. He was not young-but clearly, he was scared absolutely shitless of Ser Gregor. For his entire watch, he had refused to step any nearer to Jaime than he was at that moment. Jaime swore he had seen his lips moving in prayer as he looked in horror at the Mountain. "My lord-" he begun nervously.

"I am no lord," said Jaime, before turning, guiltless, to the enormous man at his side. "Ser Gregor, this man is disobeying the orders of her grace Queen Cersei. Kindly help him see that her word is the law."

"No!" the guard shouted, losing all his cool as Ser Gregor took a thundering step towards him. "No!"

"Take me to the deck so I can-oh, gods…" Jaime murmured, rolling his eyes as the Mountain grabbed the screaming guard by the throat, lifted him up and smashed his head against the wall. There was a sickening crack-then Ser Gregor dropped the body, leaving a stain on the wood as if a gigantic strawberry had been thrown there, small gobbets of flesh seeping down onto the floor where the guard lay, his head now half gone. Jaime gritted his teeth-he had not meant for that to happen. But the Mountain had turned back to him, walking away from the man as if he had simply swatted a fly, resuming his position of guard.

"Erm…right." Jaime shook his head slightly. But he had to move on. "Ser Gregor." His voice was strong and secure. "Her Grace Queen Cersei, First of her Name, commands you to take me up onto the deck. If you do not do this, you disobey your queen. Do you understand?"

Instantly, as if a flame had been lit, the Mountain smashed through the chains binding Jaime to the post with one hand. Leaving only those binding his wrists, and taking the other end in hand, like a dog on a rope, he yanked Jaime forth. There was nothing that could stop him once he had been given an order. As he roughly pulled Jaime up the stairs onto deck, the air became freezing. As the wind hit his face like an icy dagger, Jaime felt inside his shirt for the real dagger. There it was. It was ready.

The deck was crowded with men, working to sail the ship, pissing over the side or simply watching the grey sky, the rough waves. But Ser Gregor was too big a presence to ignore. Every man turned to look as he appeared.

"The Kingslayer!"

There was some movement towards him-but the Mountain alone put many of them off. Trying to look as casual as he could, Jaime turned from all of them. Wrists bound, he grabbed the side of the ship in front of him and leaned over, as if about to vomit. Instantly-each man turned away, going back to their business. None of them liked to watch a grieving man loose his dignity. But as he did so-he murmured to Ser Gregor. "Her Grace Queen Cersei has new orders for you, Ser Gregor. You are to imform me, in any way you can, if you see a man with a mole on his face. This is the will of her majesty. Do you understand?"

Ser Gregor merely glared. But Jaime knew he would do as bound and nothing more.

"…so lemme get this straight. You are married to the queen's brother-who thinks you're dead-and she wants you dead because your child has a claim to the throne, but that doesn't matter anymore because of the dragon queen who no one has seen yet except the imp lord-and she also wants you dead because you're married to her brother-who she is in love with?" Maggie's eyes were the size of planets. She sounded quite breathless.

"Yes." It sounded so much worse laid out like that… "That's pretty much it."

Maggie looked as if she had just been hit over the head with a hammer. She blew hard through her teeth. "Well…"

Brienne had been terrified to tell the truth. But Maggie needed to understand. "Do you see now, why I can't stay here? Everywhere I go I bring danger with me. If Cersei knows I am still alive, she will-"

"Kings Landing?" Maggie suddenly had a faraway look in her eyes. She looked out of the window. "Gods…they say the sun never stops shining, and the buildings reach the clouds, and the streets are paved with gold…"

"Do they?" Brienne blinked doubtfully.

But Maggie wasn't listening. Suddenly-there was a kind of fire in her cool grey eyes. "Dragons…" She looked down at Brienne. "And you need to go to Kings Landing to save your husband? Where the dragon queen will come?"

"Well, yes, I-"

"Then we're going."

Brienne stopped dead.

Fear began to grow. "…What do you mean?"

"You can't go alone." said Maggie firmly-but still, her eyes were filled with stars. "I have never been further south than Whiteharbor. I've never been on a ship, never rode a horse, never even learned to read-and now, you tell me that women can be warriors, can be queens, can ride dragons, and y'cannae expect me to stay here and carry on babysitting my husband, looking at bloody cows and embalming our dead neighbours? The most exciting thing that happens here is finding a corpse in the yard!"

Brienne was shaking her head. "No. No. It's far too dangerous. Your family-"

"-can manage without me for a few months. If women can wield swords, then it stands to reason that men can manage a house-if women are capable of anything they want, then so are men, isn't that right? And I want this. I haven't done a thing for myself in forty-seven years, and I want to see a little more of the world before I die. My boys are grown-yours is not even born. You are a guest in my house and I will not desert you. I know the laws of the gods-"

"Maggie, please-"

"My daughters all died in the cradle. I will not desert someone else's." said Maggie. She took Brienne's hands. "When your baby is born, you can send me back here using some of that famous Lannister gold-it would only be a couple of weeks. Gods, a couple of weeks away from here!-"

"Maggie." Brienne felt almost like crying. She had never known such kindness, such bravery for an almost stranger's sake-it was overwhelming to think that there was still such good in the world. "I don't think you've thought this through-"

"I want to see the dragons." said Maggie, her voice aflame. "We'll travel by cart to Whiteharbor tomorrow." Suddenly-she beamed excitedly. "I want to see Kings Landing. I want feel the sun on my face rather than the snow. And I want to see a woman queen ride a real dragon."

The sea spray was overwhelming. Jaime was getting soaked through by freezing water, his hands numb on the side of the ship. But he stood fast. He felt everything so much more intensely now he knew that his final hour was upon him. He felt every icy breath in his lungs, every beat of his heart struggling to keep his body warm, every inch of his skin as it shivered. But strangely…he felt incredibly calm. He was ready. He was ready to go.

Finally-Ser Gregor gave a sharp tug on the chain.

It could only mean one thing.

Jaime took a deep breath. He tasted every one now, savouring the salt air. One last time, he felt for the dagger inside his shirt. There it was. Now…he turned around.

Stefen was stood no more than ten feet away. He was alone.

It was perfect. It was meant to be. Jaime knew he was marked to die in this moment.

Jaime did not need to bother Ser Gregor. He simply walked up to the man-who started as he saw him.

"S-Ser Jaime?" Stefen instantly looked nervous. He eyed Jaime warily, as if he was a dangerous dog, taking a step backwards. Not far enough.

"Stefen." said Jaime. He kept his voice calm, his hands in front of him, clearly showing his chains so that the man would suspect nothing.

"…How are…I mean…I don't mean how are you." stammered Stefen. "What a stupid question. My apologies-"

"Oh, don't worry about that." said Jaime, his voice still soft, controlled-though he feel other men beginning to stare. They didn't matter. No one living mattered any more. "I…I just wanted to ask you…while I'm here, and you're here…how exactly did Brienne die?"

Stefen had clearly been expecting this. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He had begun to turn pale. "S-Ser Jaime…" he mumbled, looking down at the floor, his feet longing to walk away as fast as possible…but he stood his ground. Very aware of all of the men around them, he looked straight into Jaime's eyes. "I swear on the Mother that she did not suffer long…I swear it…"

"That is not what I asked you." Jaime said, his voice becoming dangerously civil. But suddenly…he realised he was playing this all wrong. He looked at Stefen. They were the same height. Though the mole distracted from the rest of his face, since it was so large and dark…Jaime could see that his eyes were kind.

Jaime looked away from him, down to the ground. "I'm sorry," he said, making his voice thick-it came easily now. "I just…I just…I need to know." He sniffed, as if fighting back tears. "Just-just let me stop imagining it. Please."

Jaime could already tell that Stefen had weakened. His body had relaxed-and he took a step back towards Jaime, as if longing to comfort him. "I swear to you that she did not suffer." he repeated. "It was clean…it was dignified…despite what…the dress looked like. It had to be that way."

Jaime felt real tears beginning to well behind his eyes now. He looked back at Stefen, who seemed as if he himself was grieving. "I'm sorry," Stefen said. "I am so, so sorry. I-I'm just a soldier. I-I can't imagine…I mean…I don't know what I mean."

Jaime nodded once. He continued to stare Stefen directly in the eyes. "I…I understand. You…you were just doing your job…I'm sorry I threatened you…I have never known anything as strong as this love and grief. I pray you never do." Slowly…Jaime extended his stump hand, swallowing hand. "Shall we forgive one another as men?"

Stefen looked down at the hand, unsure…but…his conscience got the better of him. He took it-

But before he could even grip it properly-Jaime knocked the dagger down his sleeve into his other hand and rammed it directly into Stefen's breast.

Stefen could not even scream. His eyes bulged, his mouth fell open as the blood began to pool beneath his tunic…he looked like every other dying man Jaime had ever seen. But this death by his hand felt differently…it was a release…as if a bird who had been cadged his whole life had suddenly been let out, to fly freely into the air, towards the sun…

Jaime could not hear the shouts of panic around him as the men realised what had happened. He barely felt the dagger leave Stefen's body in another splurge of blood, finally killing the man who had killed Jaime's family, who fell down onto the deck with a soft thump, a crumpled, bloody mess…he did not see the rest of the men suddenly rushing towards him…it was as if he had been plunged underwater…everything was drowned out…everything was moving in slow motion…everything was slowly fading away.

It was such a natural movement to turn the blade of the dagger to himself. Even more natural to push it.

As Jaime fell to the deck of the ship, as the feet stamped around him, deafeningly silent, feeling a distant physical agony from somewhere far away that did not matter, feeling the blood leave a body that no longer belonged to him…he could only see one face. Only one face in his mind, one name on his lips, his final thoughts, the astonishing blue eyes, the yellow hair, the pale skin, the incredible contradiction of the bravest woman in Westeros…before everything was gone.

Lady Sansa looked out at the blanket of snow that covered as far as the eye could see. She liked to stand on these battlements and look out, reminding herself that a world existed outside Winterfell, that life still went on, that somewhere, someone was happy.

Podrick stood beside her. He stood, as upright and dutiful as ever…but his eyes were almost always rimmed with red now. She looked at him, giving a small smile, which he returned, silently acknowledging the grief they shared. Then, Sansa turned back to the horizon, wondering where children played, where lovers kissed, where goodness was.

"My lady,"

A voice from below. Sansa looked down to see Lord Tyrion stood by her side. It was strange-she had been almost frightened of him as a child, especially upon being forced to marry him. And now…his was one of the most comforting presences in her life. Whenever she looked at him-she thought of the future, of the queen he had promised, of everything that could still happen in her life, even if one chapter had firmly snapped shut.

"Lord Tyrion." she greeted him.

Tyrion smiled sadly. "I think the time for formalities has long since passed." He looked up at the sky. "More snow later, I think."

"There is always more snow." said Sansa, her voice low. "Winter is here."

Tyrion was silent for a few moments.

Sansa looked back out. It was getting more difficult to see the mountains now, in the permanent snowy haze. She squinted, looking out as far as she could. She wished more than anything that she could become a bird, that she could fly, that she could just fly straight off this wall, and not land as she had with Theon, but carry on flying, on and on, until she reached…

That was it. She had always dreamed of flying back to Winterfell. But Winterfell as it had been, with her father, mother, Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon…not as it was.

But it was impossible to turn back time. Though the stones were constant, as constant as they had been when Bran the Builder had laid them, Winterfell felt entirely swept up and rebuilt, from its very foundations. And the new face did not suit her. She longed for a time that had been long buried under the snow.

Suddenly…something.

Sansa was jerked abruptly out of her thoughts. She blinked, looking all around-but she could see nothing.

Nothing that could have made a sound such as that.

But then…what sound was that?

It was like nothing she had ever heard before. Perhaps it was her imagination…

But then-again.

The sound seemed to echo, echo from the very heart of the earth up to the canopy of the sky, from the heavens to the hells. It seemed almost as if it was not meant for this world-as if it could not be contained in the tiny constraints of human understanding.

"What was that?" she found herself saying aloud.

Tyrion turned to her, his face unreadable. But his eyes were aflame.

"Tell me, Sansa…have you ever heard a dragon singing?"