A few notes about questions I was asked in reviews a hundred times in the last chapter so I feel the need to clarify a few things before we get onto this week's chapter.

The point that was brought up more than anything in response to the last chapter was the Faceless Men believe that their God is all Gods so wouldn't they consider Jon's resurrection by the Lord of Light as the will of their God? Yes, they do believe that their God is every God but they also believe that death is absolute and the absolute will of their God. According to George RR Martin himself in an interview, they literally worship death. So what happens when the Faceless Men are confronted by the fact that their two core beliefs can't co-exist? Do they admit that everything they've been doing for thousands of years is wrong and not necessarily a service to their God or do they admit that magic that doesn't come from their God can exist? It is much easier to believe that an opposing force can exist then it is to admit to being wrong for most people. Therefore, most of them will likely choose the latter and believe that the Red Priests are just working their own sorcery rather than that their God doesn't always want death and everything they have done is wrong. The faceless men are not evil but they are religious zealots who are very firm in their belief that death is the end all be all of life and undefeatable.

Another question that was frequently asked was "Why haven't the faceless men targeted Beric Dondarrion? Why haven't they targeted Bloodraven? Or Lady Stoneheart?" First of all, Stoneheart does not exist in the show and that is what this is primarily based on. I have no intention to bring her into the storyline though I suppose that this is theoretically still an option I could still take. As for Bloodraven, Brynden Rivers is a little over 120 not thousands of years old like he is said to be in the show. More so, the Faceless Men do not know that he exists since he's holed up in a cave north of the wall with the children of the forest and Bran too I guess. Beric is much the same story. His resurrection isn't widely believed to be a resurrection according to most the small folk. They believe that he was wounded in the fight with Ser Gregor, not killed, and simply recovered. He's just a rumor that they dismissed believing it to be impossible. Arya knew that she thought she saw him die at the hand of the hound but when it has been ingrained into her head that death cannot be defeated her brain warps the memory to fit that perception, a real-life occurrence that happens in peoples minds all the time. We even see this in a Feast for Crows with Sansa remembering Sandor having kissed her when he left during the battle of the blackwater despite how we know that did not actually happen. Memories are not at all infallible. So now to Arya it was just that Beric was greviously wounded- possibly fatally even and miraculously healed- not literally killed, and had died. When she finds out how Jon came back from the dead first hand, then she'll put the dots together and remember how Beric died and came back but in her disjointed mind, the pieces don't connect in the present time.

Also a point I thought I made clear in the last chapter about why Jon is such a high priority target compared to any other possible resurrections is how public his was. Thousands of people watched him defeat death and he openly boasts about it to show proof that the Others can exist and have an army of the dead. Hence the "he has made a mockery of the Many-Faced God" point that was repeated so often by the faceless men who gave Arya her mission. He is openly declaring that death is not undefeatable and that angers them more than how just his return would.

This is also why it is so important that Jon kill himself rather than be murdered. People have to know that they can not try to bring back the dead or else things will go terribly wrong. They need to know that one can not remain themselves after one comes back from the dead or everyone will try to bring back their loved ones and death will be made a fool. If he was simply murdered it would right the scales but it wouldn't discourage one from trying to replicate his resurrection which is a huge goal that they are endeavoring to accomplish.

The Many-Faced God being called the Red God was not a typo as Jaqen refers to him by that title in both the books and the show, and while him being saved from the fire- thus the God of Fire by Arya explaining most instances, it does not explain why he continues to refer to the Many-Faced God by that title after Arya has already claimed all three names that are owed and been given the coin to get passage to Bravos. There are a thousand Gods of Thunder and Red Gods in real life, I see no reason why Essos wouldn't also have two Gods who happen to share the same nickname.

I will confess to being disappointed that no one even considered the idea that the Faceless Man who gave Arya her mission wasn't a single rogue agent who wanted something different from the rest of the Faceless Man and was acting against the orders will to set her against Jon. That probably isn't the case in this instance but I will totally do stuff like that in the future where people think independently and secretly rebel against their leaders to accomplish their own agenda.

A surprising issue that people had with the last chapter was that Varys didn't know about a serial rapist in Meereen especially since he was able to get information from the wall through an embargo which honestly this isn't something that I ever considered having him know. Varys has sources in Westeros where he had spent 30 years building up a massive spy network. In Essos, Varys has been there for maybe six months and while he has some sources and little birds in Essos, those are only in high priority locations. He does not have spies who inform him of every single little thing that goes down. Even in the modern world with all the technology that we have today, government surveillance is not completely all-knowing. Moreover, even if Varys did know about the serial rapist in Meereen why would he ever mention something to Daenerys? He wants her to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not Queen of Meereen. If Daenerys knows that there is still crime ongoing and her people still are not safe then why would she choose to leave for Westeros when she's proven that she cares just as much if not more for the Meereeneese people than those of Essos? Telling her would only stop his goal from being accomplished. Varys is not meant to be a black and white good guy character. He will make very morally questionable decisions to accomplish his goals. Daario likely knew that crime was still going on as well but mentioning it to her would only serve to give him more work to do, and would again delay their trip to Westeros where he has a chance to gain more land and power for himself. So again why mention it? The Unsullied are essentially trained from birth to be emotionless robots so do they even recognize what is morally wrong or crime that needs to be reported? They're also not trained investigators of any sort who can find out who the criminals are. Even if they know that crime is happening, why would they assume that they should tell her of every crime that does not affect her in any way? No one who could possibly in the know has any real plausible motivation to report all the crimes in the city so to her there is none.

The rapist completely getting off scot-free for raping little girls and going on to do it again while an innocent man is punished was also meant to mimic the tragedy of our criminal justice system in the real world. This is a far too common occurrence in the real world and something that will always be a problem. Sometimes the courts get it wrong and an innocent man suffers for it. We are human and make mistakes, that is what being human is. Crime will never be completely eradicated, that is not at all plausible- even fear is not that powerful of a motivator to truly stop all crime. That being said I do currently plan on Shiztor eventually being punished for his crimes but it's also something that I could very easily scrap and honestly think it would work better thematically if I did so. The world is not a pretty utopian place where truth and justice always win in the end.

Hope that clears up any confusion, I apologize that I didn't manage to articulate that clearly in the last chapter. To the many people who have spoilery questions that they are asking in reviews, if you actually want spoilers, I have no problem giving them but please PM me on Fanfiction. net (same username) since I don't want to put spoilers in a public forum.

This chapter was beta'd by DracoInfernus. Thank you so much for the help with making this jumble of words readable.

A few lines from this chapter are copied almost directly from a Feast of Crows. I obviously do not own that book or the rest of Game of Thrones or ASOIAF. All rights go to George RR Martin and HBO bla bla bla.

Jamie was an oathbreaker. A Lannister through and through with no honor just like his father. He had deluded himself into thinking that he could be someone else, that he could have honor like Brienne but that's not who he was. He, like Cersei, was a monster and he enjoyed it.

When Catelyn Stark had released him, he had promised to bring her daughters back to her. He had failed there, Arya Stark was presumed dead and Sansa Stark was now married to Ramsay Bolton. He had sworn never to take up arms against the Starks or Tullys again yet here he was, marching on Riverrun to take the last fortress of the Tully's and crush the house he had sworn to protect. When he had been knighted he had sworn to protect the innocent yet here he was going to raid a castle where the majority of its denizens were innocent.

There was no denying who he was. He was a Lannister. He was the Kingslayer and an oathbreaker. He was not a good man. He was selfish. He was no knight. He had tried so hard to be one but there was no such thing as honorable knights. A knight was a paradox, their very oaths contradictory to each other.

Honor was just a delusion and one that Jamie had fallen into. The idea of honor was an idealistic concept that did not exist in the real world. Even the great Ned Stark, famed for his honor was not truly honorable. He had sired a bastard, breaking his wedding oaths. He had stood by King Robert even as children were slaughtered. He had been prepared to see an entire kingdom bleed because Rhaegar had taken his sister. Ned Stark was not honorable but as selfish as any other man.

Jamie had tried not to be selfish, to be good but it was impossible and only made everyone else's lives worse. His father would be ashamed of his ineptitude. His daughter was being hurt by his desire to be good. He should have just lied, taken their deal, and returned to Casterly Rock. Once back home, inform Cersei of the deal and let Trystane, Nymeria, and the rest of their Dornish escort be executed.

Sure, Myrcella's heart might be broken but that would heal and she would be safe from harm. Dorne might go to war, and thousands might die but he would be far from the first person to doom thousands of innocents to death for their own selfishness. As he had told Cersei, not too long ago, fuck everyone who isn't us. They did not care for him, so why would he care for them?

He needed to get back to King's Landing quickly before Nymeria Sand did something to his daughter. She had confronted him before he left for Riverrun and tried to convince him that they needed to return to Casterly Rock to officially name Myrcella as his heir. Still, an order from the King was something neither of them could protest. Still, her parting words would haunt him for his entire campaign. "Do make sure you survive, Lord Jamie. If you don't then my hand would be forced and your daughter will be dead within days of your own death."

So maybe it was a bit overkill but he had taken her words to heart and ensured that he would survive the battle against the Tully's. He had taken two-thousand men with him to Riverrun to take a castle garrisoned by maybe five-hundred men. The Freys themselves likely had fewer men there themselves and it was their castle. Still, he could hardly take chances with Myrcella's life at stake. He had to return alive so he could fix the problems he had created.

He would return to King's Landing and finally be a father to Tommen and Myrcella. He would no longer have to pretend to only be a distant uncle but actually, be allowed to connect with his kids. As long as Joffrey was believed to be Robert's son then Tommen was still his heir if he could be considered legitimized which he was sure they could arrange to have happen. Rather than giving a Martell Casterly Rock, a Lannister would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Even with Dorne and the Stormlands allied together, they couldn't stand against the combined Westerlands and Reach force. Tommen would be the first Lannister King, not a Baratheon one. Robert's dreadful line would end with him just as the Targaryen's had ended with the Mad King. The Lannisters would be the house on top at the end of the game.

"Lord Jamie," One of his soldiers panted as he rushed into the tent, bringing Jamie out of his thoughts. He had sent him as part of a party into Sallydance to scout out the area before the army arrived there for the night to stock up on supplies and march on to Riverrun. The man was completely out of breath from his urgency in returning. Had he found trouble?

Jamie was on his feet in an instant. "What seems to be the issue, Ser? Are we expecting to encounter a hostile force?"

The man shook his head and stood there to catcher his breath. "No conflict, the road is clear of any aggressors. We should have an easy march." He huffed. "Just urgent news that you will want to hear immediately."

Jamie nodded in some relief. He was slightly curious as to what the news was that was so urgent that it couldn't wait but he was relieved that there was oncoming conflict. Every conflict brought a chance of his and by extension Myrcella's death. He would take any chances when it came to her, even if it led to him being labeled as a craven by his own men. Her life was worth more than his pride. "Enlighten me," He ordered.

"There's no easy way to say this, my Lord… the Queen lost her trial and was executed for infidelity towards the King." The soldier informed him somewhat hesitantly.

Jamie nodded. Tommen would be crushed by his dear Margaery's death. He had been besotted with her. It gave Jamie all the more urgency to hurry back to King's Landing and expose the Martells. He and Myrcella needed to be with Tommen in order to support his son in this no doubt difficult time. Tommen needed a father now since he almost certainly wouldn't want his mother after she had orchestrated this.

His time apart from Cersei had only amplified his hatred for her, this was just another spark to what was already a raging inferno. Tyrion's parting words echoed around in his head constantly. Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel, and Osmund Kettleblack, and probably Moon Boy for all I know. He would have given his life for her, he would kill for her- he had killed for her- for them to be together. She had spat on their relationship and his feelings and shown him how meaningless his love for her was in her eyes.

She had accused Tyrion of a crime he probably didn't commit with little evidence and had tried to orchestrate his death with no real evidence. She only had the hobbled together testimonies and words taken out of context. He was her brother but she hadn't cared, she only saw him as the monster who had killed their mother.

She had kept him from his daughter since the day she was born. He had been forbidden from being at all close to his children, from having any relationship at all with them. They had been strangers to him, closer to his brother than the brother their mother hated than the one she claimed to love. Too much risk that Robert would find out they were his own children or some equally terrible excuse. She had done the same again by sending him on this pointless expedition to claim Riverrun for the Freys. She did not want him to have any say in his daughter's life. She had likely sent him in hopes that he would die and Myrcella would never get to leave her clutches

Now she had taken another step. She had targeted his son and that was unforgivable. She had let his son's wife be executed for a crime they both knew she did not commit. Her imprisoning Margaery had been understandable, possibly even an honest misunderstanding. That had only been her usual antics and selfishness, she hadn't known how much Tommen felt for his wife. But now she had seen how broken up Tommen was over his wife's imprisonment and yet she hadn't cared. Her lust for power and control had to lead her procuring fake evidence to get Margaery killed so she could have Tommern to herself. Her fear had made her decision making even more irrational than usual.

Jamie would return to King's Landing after this and see Cersei pay for her transgressions. He would deliver justice for Margaery, for Tyrion, for Myrcella, for Tommen, and most importantly, himself. He would be there for his children in this time of emotional turmoil. He like his father had would rule the Westerlands with an iron fist. He like his father would show no mercy to traitors and those who schemed against the Lannisters. He was his father's heir now, whether he wanted to be or not, and he would do his father proud. For in spite of all his numerous faults he was still his father. And Cersei was still his sister, nothing more.

Jamie closed his eyes and nodded. "We'll stop marching for the day, hold a vigil for Queen Margaery."

The soldier stuttered but did not leave. "L-lord Jamie, Q-q-q-"

Jamie glared at him. "Spit it out already, and then do as I asked." He snapped impatiently.

"A-apologies Lord Jamie but there is no easy way to say this. Queen Margaery was found innocent on all charges, Queen Cersei was the guilty one who was executed for infidelity."

Jamie stumbled back as if he had been pushed and fell back onto the hard metal chair. He had never even considered the possibility of Cersei being found guilty, she had Ser Gregor as her champion. She would never lose a trial by combat. It simply wasn't possible. "Whatever you heard was a lie, Ser Greg-Robert Strong would not lose a trial by combat. You should know better than to report baseless rumors." He said quietly with a warning glare towards the soldier who had given him the report.

"Ser Robert was not her champion," The scout explained. "I was told he absconded with Qyburn after he was arrested during Margaery's trial. Ser Balon Swann fought as your sister's champion and was defeated by Ser Loras Tyrell." He shuffled his feet. "At least that is what I heard in the village."

Jamie nodded absentmindedly. Cersei was dead. She would no longer stand between him and his children. Cersei was dead. The woman who had birthed his children. Cersei was dead. The woman who had betrayed him. Cersei was dead. His twin sister and lover. Cersei was dead. The one who he hated more than anything. Cersei was dead. The one he loved more than any other. Cersei was dead.

"Should we hold a vigil for her- your sister?" The scout who had informed him of this wonderful, no- awful, no- freeing- no emotional life-changing news asked somewhat timidly.

Jamie found himself shaking his head. "We have no time to waste, we march onwards, no stopping." He declared. "We must make haste for Riverrun, so I- so we can all return home to our families."

His children needed him more now than ever before after having just lost their mother. The Tyrells were likely now in control of the crown and would not hesitate to use his children to further his own ambitions. They needed him there to protect them.

He could deal with his conflicted feelings over the possible death of Cersei later, right now he had to take Riverrun so he could return home to his children. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now, distractions got people killed in battle and his death would result in Myrcella's with not even Cersei in all her cruelty there to protect her. Would Tommen even be safe? He was just as accessible as Myrcella was now. He had to claim Riverrun and then race back to the capital.

Finally, after almost a month of marching, they had arrived in Riverrun. The Direwolf and Trout banners of Houses Stark and Tully flew proudly over the fortified castle, the Blackfish no doubt still loyal to the dead man he had proclaimed his King once. The lovesick pup that had chosen his lady love over a Crown. Jamie once would have made the same decision as the Young Wolf did for Cersei, in a way he had done so already. He was not that foolish arrogant young kid anymore. He would embrace who he was, the heir of Tywin Lannister, and the Lord of Casterly Rock.

Finally, they could take this stupid castle to repay their debt or whatever her poor reasoning had been, and he could return home to his children. Trumpets flared around him as they rode into the encampment, proclaiming their entrance. The Lannister banners flew high overhead.

"Who's in charge here?" Jamie demanded the Frey soldier who had greeted him at the edge of the Frey encampment outside of Riverrun. He did not bother with any pleasantries. The sooner he got Riverrun, the sooner he could return home to his children. Pleasantries were just a waste of time.

"Lord Emmon Frey, Lord Jamie." The Frey soldier simpered.

Jamie nodded. "Bring me to him."

The Frey soldier nodded. "If you would just follow me m' lord."

Jamie dismounted from his horse and did just that. They walked through the camp without saying another word to each other. Soon they had arrived outside of the largest tent with silver flags stained with blue twin castles embroidered on them posted outside, flying high and proud.

The Frey soldier stepped aside, waiting to be given admittance but Jamie ignored his example and stepped past the guards, walking into the tent without first announcing his presence. He didn't have the time to waste on such trivialities.

A small man sat at the desk, hunched over with a quill moving rather rapidly over the parchment. He was rather weedy with precipitation atop his bald head. His hands were sweating as well. Jamie had to resist the urge to sneer at the new Lord of Riverrun. "Ser Emmon," He greeted cordially.

Ser Emmon looked up from what he was working on. "That's Lord Emmon Frey of Riverrun, Lord Jamie." He sniffed with his held high.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "What are the current plans for the siege?" He asked without any preamble.

"We've threatened to hang Edmure Tully if they do not surrender the castle to us. They have until morning to give their response or we will hang him and take the castle by force." Lord Emmon explained.

Jamie once again rolled his eyes. "You'll hang Edmure Tully either way, as long as he lives he'll remain a threat to your claim. The Blackfish is no fool, he knows that. We'll have to use force to claim the castle." He paused, the siege had been going on for over a year, there was no way this was their first time trying this strategy. "How many times have you tried that threat already? The Blackfish obviously won't take your bait."

Lord Emmon shifted nervously. "We are starving them out, Edmure Tully is just a prop to let the Blackfish believe that he isn't craven when he surrenders. That he is choosing to save his family instead of a castle."

Once again Jamie had to roll his eyes. "Starving Riverrun out would take years," Time that Jamie did not have. He had to return to Tommen and Myrcella. "Set to constructing siege towers, we'll storm the castle and force them out. The Blackfish will surrender or Riverrun will be rendered into rubble." He ordered.

Lord Emmon did not like Jamie's plan. "I am Lord of Riverrun," He sneered. "You will take the castle without damaging it or any repairs will be paid for from the Lannister coffers."

Jamie sighed. "My father promised you that you would hold Riverrun for your part in the Red Wedding. He did not promise anything about the state of the castle. I will take Riverrun for House Frey because the King ordered it." Jamie tried to pinch his brow to fight off his incoming headache but instead smacked his forehead with his golden hand. "I will not pander to your insane requests. Be grateful that you got the castle at all." It's more than you deserve, Jamie thought to himself.

"You will not! We can claim Riverrun ourselves if you insist on destroying it. We do not need your aid!" Ser Emmon spat moodily and branded a piece of parchment in his face. "I have the decree. Signed by the king, by Tommen, see, the royal seal, the stag, and the lion. I am the lawful Lord of Riverrun, and I will not have it reduced to a smoking ruin."

Jamie wished he could just leave and let Ser Emmon do just that but he had his orders from the King and he didn't want to make this take longer when he was forced to double back to Riverrun after he returned. He took a step towards Ser Emmon. "I will follow the orders of the King. He told me to take Riverrun. If you have an issue with that then you can take it up with him."

Ser Emmon's eye twinkled. "The King!" He exclaimed happily. "I almost forgot, he sent a raven here for you."

Jamie smiled in spite of himself. His son was writing to him, perhaps just to tell him of Cersei's death or order him to return to the capital immediately but his son was reaching out to him for once. "Where is it?" He snapped, annoyed that Ser Emmon had waited to tell him. He should have been informed of the moment it arrived. "When did the raven arrive?"

Ser Emmon shrugged. "Probably three weeks ago, or something like that?" He guessed without any real concern.

Jamie blinked. That couldn't be news of Cersei's trial then, or her execution. Her trial had been scheduled to take place fifteen days ago, meaning a raven would have only just arrived this week, not three weeks ago. What else would Tommen need to write to him about? "Where is it?" Jamie repeated a little more forcefully this time.

Ser Emmon stood from behind the desk. "I keep it in my sleeping tent, I wanted to make sure no one could steal it before you got a chance to read it." Translation: I wanted to make sure you wouldn't find it until I wanted you too.

The news had to be recalling him to King's Landing and Ser Emmon hadn't wanted him to leave until they had the castle but since he was planning to destroy it Ser Emmon now wanted him gone. Tommen had come to his senses and stopped letting Cersei control him, he wanted his father back before his mother had died. "Let's be off then, this should have been the first thing you told me, Ser."

Ser Emmon bristled. "Lord," He corrected but did as asked and led Jamie to his tent in silence.

Jamie stepped in right behind Ser- sorry Lord Emmon not wanting to give him the chance to hide that he had likely already opened the letter and read it. "Jamie!" A familiar female voice exclaimed excitedly. "Here at last are you?" His aunt's voice boomed.

Jamie turned in the direction of the voice and found his Aunt Genna quickly rising from her seat beside the brazier. His aunt was bigger than he remembered, easily twice the size of her husband. In her youth, she had been a shapely young woman, a curvy figure with a bosom that threatened to overflow her bodice. She had not aged well at all. Her womanly figure was gone, once alluring curves now just rolls of fat. Her face was square now and unattractive. "Aunt Genna," Jamie greeted cordially before turning back towards Lord Emmon.

Lady Genna did not appreciate his lack of attention to her. "Have you no hug for your old, fat aunt?" She asked and as Jamie glanced back at her he saw she was holding her arms out expectantly.

Jamie sighed and dutifully embraced her, losing sight of Lord Emmon for the time being. He expected her to pinch his ears as she always had when he was younger but instead, she placed sloppy wet kisses on his cheeks. "I am so sorry for your losses," She said softly.

Jamie took a step back and held up his golden hand. "I had a new hand made, of gold." He replied cheekily.

Lady Genna scowled and swatted his arm. "Very nice. Will they make you a golden father too? Or perhaps a silver sister? I don't care about your damn hand. Tywin and Cersei were the losses I meant, not your damn hand."

Jamie frowned. Were they truly losses? Tywin had not been a good man, he had wanted to see Tyrion dead for a crime he did not commit. He had had no honor or moral compass. What Jamie and Tywin had done to Tyrion was unforgivable but did his father deserve to die? Perhaps not. He was dead now but was it truly a loss?

Cersei was even more difficult to deal with. She was vile and evil and a lying cheating whore. She was also his sweet and beautiful sister who he had loved his enter life. She was the woman who kept him from his children and had lied to him. She was the one who had manipulated him and used him to do terrible things on her behalf without really giving him anything in return. Hate was easier to deal with than love certainly but it was even easier to not deal with her at all so he ignored his aunt's jibe and pushed her from his mind.

Lord Emmon had returned with a clearly already opened scroll that he held between his wringing hands. "There had never been a man like Tywin Lannister before and there might never be a man like him again." He butted into their stifled conversation.

They both turned to look at him with somewhat identical matching glares. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and held out the scroll for Jamie's inspection. "Here is the letter from the King, Lord Jamie." He said shyly. "I opened it thinking it was intended for me but once I saw your name on the byline, I rolled it up and did not read any further."

Everyone knew that was a lie, the letter had likely been marked as for Jamie and even if it hadn't been, he obviously hadn't stopped reading after seeing his name. Still, right now Jamie hardly cared about the schemes of the new Lord Frey. He wanted to see what his son had written to him.

His aunt thankfully realized that Jamie did not want an audience. "Emm, why don't you step outside and have a breath of air?" She asked politely, but really just dismissing him.

The pompous fool didn't seem to get what she was asking. "A breath of air?"

"Or a good long piss if you prefer, my nephew and I have family matters to discuss," Genna said a bit more forcefully.

Lord Emmon flushed. "Yes, it is quite warm in here. I will wait outside, my Lady. M'Lord." He sketched a small bow toward Jaime and tottered from the tent.

His aunt rolled her eyes at him once he was gone. "If that letter contains the information I expect it to, you'll probably need some questions answered. I'd presume you would rather ask me than his pompous ass."

Jamie smiled at her and murmured a quiet thank you before unfurling the scroll.

Lord Jamie of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West,

On behalf of King Tommen of House Baratheon, the first of his name. Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar and the First Men;

I, Kevan of House Lannister, Hand of the King order you to take the men you previously sent to Riverrrun by the King's decree and march them further North. Jon Snow, the bastard of Lord Eddard of House Stark and former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch has broken his oaths to the wall and taken to claiming that he is actually the bastard of Lady Lyanna of House Stark, a Targaryen bastard born out of his mother's rape at the hands of the former Crown Prince, Rhaegar of House Targaryen.

He is attempting to claim the Iron Throne that belongs to King Tommen and the House of Baratheon by the rite of conquest. Move your armies North to Winterfell and ally with the Warden of the North, Lord Roose of House Bolton to crush this rebellion.

This order supersedes the command to capture Riverrun for the Freys. Your priority is now to kill Jon Snow and capture the Lady Sansa of House Stark. If this proves to be a mummery then you are to remove Ser Davos of House Seaworth as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and execute him as well.

The crown thanks you for your loyal service, Lord Jamie of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Warden of the West.

This decree was signed into action by;

King Tommen of the House Baratheon

The last line was his son's own signature, Jamie knew but for a moment he thought it was Cersei's own scrawl. The way the O's slightly dipped in the middle and were shaped more like an olive than a circle was exactly as Cersei wrote her own O's. The way the N tailed off with a long trail that often overlapped the next letter was also all Cersei. His B's were far too square for this to be Cersei's pen and the M's were all wrong as well.

He traced his fingers over the dried ink with a slight frown. He would not be returning to his kids anytime soon if the content of this letter was to be believed. A Targaryen and worse still Rhaegar's son. Rhaegar, who in their last conversation, had promised to protect his family with his life. His mad father, his sickly wife, and his innocent children. He had failed to keep that promise, he had killed Rhaegar's father himself and sat down on the Iron Throne while Ser Gregor brutally murdered Rhaegar's wife and children.

Yet now, Rhaegar had another child apparently, one from Lyanna Stark. He had a chance to keep his promise to Rhaegar he had made twenty years ago. He could protect his last child if this letter was to be believed. A part of Jamie was tempted to do so but doing so would mean going to war against Tommen. He would be choosing his word to Rhaegar and love for the King he could have been over his own son and he could never do that. What was another broken oath to the Kingslayer? He had sworn to never take up arms against the Starks or Tullys and here he was about to head North to destroy the last remnants of House Stark before heading back to Riverrun to eliminate the last Tullys. For good measure, he would also of course have to kill Rhaegar's alleged son. What was next? That he would be forced to fight Brienne? It was actually highly likely if Sansa Stark was his enemy. Great, another broken oath for the Kingslayer. Perhaps, he should just go by Oathbreaker now. It was certainly the more accurate title for him.

"Jon Snow is a Targaryen bastard?" He asked in complete disbelief. The idea that the honorable, holier than thou Lord Stark had committed what was essentially treason by hiding a Targaryen from his best friend, and King seemed completely absurd. Surely this was just some selfish power-hungry bastard with delusions of grandeur. "Why does anyone believe this?"

His aunt Genna sighed. "The royal bastard claims that he died, the Night's Watch says he was killed in a mutiny at Castle Black. He did not stay dead according to everyone on the wall but when he was put on his funeral pyre, he rose again. The tale is so outlandish yet everyone is sharing it so perhaps it might actually be true. Even Thomas Frey wrote to us from the wall informing Lord Walder of this Jon Snow's supposed resurrection and unburnt status."

Jamie nodded at what she said. Did lies ever spread that quickly? It almost had to be true with the urgency with which even those who likely hated Jon Snow sharing the story for all to hear. He had either managed to fool everyone or he was truly the unburnt and a Targaryen, a threat to his son's life and claim to the throne. The truth is it did not matter if he was actually Targaryen as long as people believed that he was, just like it did not matter if Tommen was actually Robert's son or Jamie's to the Lords of Westeros. Names had power, more so than blood did. Jamie would have gone to destroy this Targaryen with or without Tommen's edict. His promise to Rhaegar meant nothing if his children's lives hung in the balance, as they did here. He had to keep them safe, even at the expense of his honor, or care for anyone else.

"I've been ordered to march North to Winterfell immediately, tell your husband he will be forced to hold the castle on his own until I return. If he has not resolved the situation by the time I return then I will tear Riverrun into naught but rubble for him to rule over." Jamie informed Genna before leaving the tent without another glance back at her.

Unfortunately, Jamie's return to his children would be delayed further now, the Kingslayer had another King to kill. It would take him a month to get to Jon Snow's last reported location, wipe out both the last few remnants of the Starks and Targaryens before returning South to destroy the Tullys. He hopes to return to King's Landing in just about three months' time. Hopefully, Nymeria wouldn't have gotten impatient with him by then and killed his daughter, but truly what else could he do? He had his orders from his son and he had no choice but to follow them. He was the Kingslayer, the Oathbreaker and the honorless one, this is what he did best. Break vows and slay Kings, what were a few more broken vows to one with no honor. Words were only wind to him, no matter what he was saying.

Jon was stressed, he had no problem admitting that right now. The Mormonts small forces were expected to arrive in a few hours. They would just narrowly manage to beat the Bolton army to the Last Hearth as they were only a day out from here.

Losing his conversations with his Daenerys had been rough, he loved Rhaegal more than anything but just sharing his mind was nowhere near as enjoyable without her there for them to connect to. They were both missing his Daenerys and their siblings, Drogon, and Viserion which only amplified the other's longing to see them as well. He knew that his men would mock him for it but he was absolutely mooning over her. He needed her to be around him again, even if they didn't speak, just to see her face and hear her voice again. If he didn't need Rhaegal so desperately, he would just turn around and fly back to her. Was she even safe without him there to protect her anymore? She had Drogon and Viserion he knew but they didn't hunt down murderers or rapists as he had. Her people were in danger and by extent, she was as well. What if the Harpies had taken action to reclaim Meereen in his absence? He shook his head, he could not let himself think that way. For better or worse, he and Rhaegal would have to remain in Westeros for a long while.

Rhaegal was close enough to him by now that their connection felt stronger than ever. Jon had taken the long route to Westeros with Rhaegal so as to not tip off the Boltons or Lannisters to his existence so the dragon had not arrived yet but he was closer than they had ever been since Jon had come back into his human life. He could not wait to finally feel his other half. To ride on his back as a human, to look down on the world below and feel the wind rushing in his face. For a dragon that was ordinary but in his human body, Jon was sure that it would be extraordinary.

Unfortunately, he still had to wait for the Lannisters to arrive for him to finally ride on Rhaegal's back and they were still a few days out. He had been patient this long; he could wait a few more days. He quickly reminded himself that he would be King of the North with an alliance with two other Kingdoms if he remained patient, measured his actions, and didn't rush anything.

The battle was not about winning or losing, the outcome was already assured. This was about making a statement and minimizing their losses so the living had more men when the Long Night came. He would give every Lannister and Northern man on the field a chance of mercy when they were faced with death. Bend the knee and take the black or die by the Dragon's fire. He knew they would all choose life and in an instant, the Wall would be better defended than it had been in centuries. While he would never return to the Wall himself until the Long Night came since he no longer felt safe there, he had to do everything possible to fortify it. Every day that the Wall held the dead back, would mean higher chances of survival for the rest of Westeros.

For now, however, the Wall, Rhaegal, and even the Lannister and Bolton armies were not what was important. He had to stop his own men from rebelling, a task that Jon would admit was quite difficult and he was sure when the Mormonts arrived it would be even more difficult still. The Mormonts were a rowdy spirited bunch who would not follow him blindly like the Free Folk and to a lesser extent the Slates did.

The Slates overlord was a child who had thankfully become the best of friends with Rickon now and was keeping their men in check, for now, they would not rebel against their overlord. Once Jon had refused to act and the Boltons were on their doorstep, then they might consider rebelling against their overlord but until then they were held in check.

He knew that the Free Folk hated hiding behind the walls of this keep and waiting for the enemy to arrive. That had never been their way, they were always the ones on the offensive and after Hardhome, where staying in one spot had nearly ended them all they were even more than antsy. They might worship Jon and call him a King or even a God but he knew their restlessness would cause them to do something stupid and he would not be able to stop them for he was not one of them. He would have to get Tormund to lie and claim he knew what Jon was doing so he could keep his people calm and if his plans were known by someone other than himself they'd more likely believe he actually had one.

Someone might overhear what Jon was saying and his surprise would be ruined. It was even theoretically possible that with the proper preparation they might be able to take down Rhaegal, he doubted it but it was theoretically possible. He had to tell someone though or else he would see his life ended once again in a mutiny by his own men and he had no desire for that to happen. Tormund was as close to trustworthy as anyone outside of his Daenerys so he would be who he had lie about him knowing the plan. He wouldn't go behind his back and deny that Jon had a plan, at least he hoped that would be the case. He certainly wouldn't tell Sansa until it was too late for her to screw things up.

There was knock on the door, startling Jon out of his thoughts. "Come in," Jon called out.

"Your Grace, The Mormonts are within a mile of here and are seeking entrance." Lord Hother said from the doorway.

Jon nodded and rose from his chair. "Let's go greet them then."

He and Hother Umber walked out to the top of the walls in silence. Lord Hother still was too terrified of Jon to even speak in his presence without prompting after seeing the hole in his chest. That suited Jon just fine, he had no desire to speak to such a conniving, scheming coward. He did idly wonder how Hother would react when he saw Jon seated on Rhaegal's back if he was already so timid, perhaps he would keel over and die on the spot, too terrified to even breathe. Wouldn't that be amusing?

This time Jon did not wait on the wall for them to show up but instead rode out in front of a small welcoming party to greet the Mormonts outside of the gates. At the front of the Mormont party was the young Lady Lyanna who had ruled House Mormont since the death of Maege at the Red Wedding. She like Lord Slate was only aged ten years but unlike Lord Slate from what Jon knew, she was as fierce and effective as a leader as any. He would not underestimate her because of her age.

She might have only been riding a pony because of her size but she cut as intimidating of a figure as anyone. She carried herself with a natural regal grace that Jon was slightly envious of. She was decked in full leathers as if she planned on riding out with her men at the front of their lines to battle. With what he knew of the Mormonts he supposed that might actually be the case, in spite, of her young age.

"Lady Lyanna Mormont," Jon called out in greeting as he dismounted. "Thank you for answering the call."

"Lord Waters." She said in cooly in turn.

Jon's jaw clenched at the name given to bastards of the Crownlands. "King, My Lady." He corrected gently. He hated having to remind people he was a King, no true King ever had to remind people of that fact but until the North saw his strength this would be a constant occurrence. In a few days, people who didn't even recognize who he was would kneel and call him a King.

"The North knows no King except the King in the North whose name is Stark." She replied evenly.

Jon resisted the urge to groan. "I am a Stark."

"Are you? I believe you signed the letter as Jon Targaryen."

Jon dug his fingernails into his palms as his fists clenched at his sides. Perhaps he should have signed the letter as Jon Stark-Targaryen. He had wanted to make sure the Lords knew who he was from his mouth first so it didn't look like he was trying to hide who he was. He had thought that signing off on the letter as the son of Lyanna Stark would be enough but clearly, it had not been so.

"My mother was a Stark and the man who raped her was a Targaryen. My father was Ned Stark, not Rhaegar Targaryen." That was a lie of course but defending his father would earn him no points in the North so he wouldn't bother defending his selfish sire. "Traditionally, the son takes the blood father's name, not the mothers. That does not mean I do not have the blood of the Starks. I just also have the blood of a dragon and a claim to the Iron Throne."

Lyanna was unconvinced by his reasoning. "I don't know you. Are you a dragon or a wolf? Are you as mad as your father or as fierce as your mother? Do you have the Starks honor or are you as cruel as your father? Why should Mormont men risk their lives fighting for a self-proclaimed Targaryen?"

Jon missed Ghost. If he had his Direwolf by his side right now than no one would question if he was really a Stark. "You don't know me," Jon agreed. "Your Uncle, however, did and he thought enough of me to name me his steward. He thought highly enough of me that he chose me as his heir as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Jon made sure that he fingered the pommel of Longclaw during that statement. He wanted to make it clear to Lyanna that this was about more than the Night's Watch. That Jeor had believed in who he was, and without directly saying it had declared him as a type of pseudo-son.

"My uncle chose to give you a sword that belonged to House Mormont. It was not his place to do that, and he did it in ignorance of your true parentage. I doubt he would have wanted you on the Iron Throne, he cared little for the wars of the south. I trust that you will return our family sword to its rightful owners?"

Jon grit his teeth. He had never expected them to actually demand the sword back, they clearly didn't believe in his chances of success in claiming the throne if they were willing to give up the chance at having an honorary member of House Mormont on the throne. They had to believe he would lose here and wanted to sever all ties with him before it was too late.

The worst part of House Mormont's surprising decision to take the sword was that he had no choice but to acquiesce to her demand. If he chose not to do so he would be proving that he was the selfish bastard he was sure that they all feared he would be, they would think that he took after Rhaegar and not Lyanna or Lord Stark. Even with Rhaegal backing him up, he would have a hard time gaining their loyalty. He might not be able to personally kill the Others without Longclaw but he would be on Rhaegal's back most of the time he imagined.

He drew the sword with a heavy heart and looked at Longclaw with a bit of longing as he held it out to Lyanna Mormont. "Your uncle cared very much for the wars of the south because the wars of the south are the same as the wars of the North. There is only one war, and it's not the war for the Iron Throne. It's the war between the living and the dead. I don't want the throne because I want power." Although I do want that. " I want the throne because we need the seven kingdoms united if we want to have even a small chance against an army of at least two-hundred thousand."

"Your uncle and I both died in a mutiny at the hands of our own men who refused to believe in the real threat. We both acted as we did knowing the risk, that it could mean our own lives were forfeit, and I would willingly die again if it helped us defeat the Others just as I'm sure your uncle would if he was still here."

Lady Lyanna took the sword from his grip and looked at the blade. "Is this true?" She asked plainly.

Jon nodded but Tormund answered for him. "It's true, little lady. The Others and their army of dead men nearly destroyed us all at Hardhome, if it wasn't for King Crow here the Free Folk would be extinct, all of us serving in the Great Other's army. I've seen him, King Crow's seen him as have all the Free Folk here to fight for him. We don't like kneeling and calling any man our King but we understand what's at stake and if that means crowning the Crow then we'll do just that. Survival has to come first over our pride."

"If the North were to demand independence from the Iron Throne in exchange for our aid in this 'Great War' you speak of, would you grant it, Lord Waters?" She asked as what Jon could only assume was meant to be a test.

"I would," he answered only partially honest. There was no risk that they would accept their own independence as much as they wanted it now, if he sat the throne and offered it freely they would decline. Just like how the Unsullied had chosen to still follow Daenerys after she had freed them, the North would do the same. They only wanted independence because they didn't think they could have it. The North would be worse off on their own then without being a part of the Seven Kingdoms were they could turn to others for food through the long winters. They only wanted independence under Rob because Joffrey had executed Ned. Not because they cared about technically being beneath the Targaryen rule. If they truly did demand independence then he would of course decline but he doubted that they would. The illusion of choice was a powerful influencer and would keep them loyal as long as he offered it to them.

Lyanna tested the weight of Longclaw and took a few practice swings with the blade. She then to Jon's shock held the blade back out to him. "Perhaps you did inherit your father's sense of honor." Jon did not need to guess at who she was talking about. No northerner would ever declare Rhaegar honorable. "Keep the Mormont family sword, if you are half as skilled as the rumors claim then you'll do House Mormont proud, just as you'll do the North proud."

Jon took the blade gratefully and watched as Lyanna pulled her own much smaller sword out. "House Mormont hails Jon Stark; The King in the North!" She thrust it up into the air and then down into the snow as she knelt before him.

"The King in the North!" Her men echoed as they mirrored her actions and knelt before the dragon.

Jamie had tried to not focus on Cersei and the conflicted feelings she gave him but a month was a long time. He had not wanted a distraction but perhaps refusing to think about it was the real distraction. She would invade his thoughts constantly, no matter how much he tried to push the thought of her away. Maybe if he had just dealt with it, he would have moved past her already and be free to think whatever he wanted now, to not be distracted when the battle came.

They were finally arriving in Winterfell today, but from what Jamie's scouts had told him the Boltons had already left a few days earlier with 5,000 men to the wall where this supposed King, Jon Targaryen was camped out with only 2,000 men of his own- wildlings at that. Why Tommen needed to send Jamie to join them was a complete mystery to him. Unless the Boltons were complete fools, they would win this fight with ease. His presence here was completely pointless and just keeping him from being with his children.

The last time that Jamie had been in Winterfell had been four years ago when the Fat King had chosen to appoint the honorable fool as his hand. He had fucked Cersei in that tower that loomed high enough for Jamie to see it from outside the gates. He had pushed Bran Stark out of that window for Cersei, to keep them a secret and her safe from Robert's wrath. He didn't regret that decision in spite of her death making protecting her at that moment, mostly pointless, his lack of love for Cersei did not change his impetus. He would do it again if given the chance, to keep his children safe this time. He had loved Cersei then and now he loved his children. The things we do for love, he had told Bran Stark before shoving him. To silence the boy who threatened the woman he had once loved. He would kill anyone and everyone he had to in order to keep his children safe, so great was his love for them.

He had refused all offers of companionship on his journey North. The men who wanted to drink with him and the whores who had wanted to fuck with him both. He had no desire to spend considerable time speaking to anyone but his children and that was not an option right now.

The last person he had tried to be friends with had likely died in Dorne. Bronn had made an effort to make Jamie a passable fighter with his left hand and had believed in him enough to go with him on a suicide mission. Jamie hadn't been good enough and it had cost Bronn his life and had given the Martells a foothold in Casterly Rock. He had enjoyed the sellswords company and blunt honesty but he had died because Jamie had been a fool, he had been conversing with Bronn instead of paying attention to the mission and because of that, they had been caught. They might have been caught regardless but Jamie still did partially blame his lack of focus.

He would not repeat that mistake here or this time it could be him who wound up in a body bag. If he were to die that meant Myrcella would as well and that was far from an acceptable outcome. He had to keep her safe and to do that he could not be distracted by anything or anyone for even a moment. He could not allow himself to be surprised.

He rode near the front of his army but not in the very front, he couldn't risk being the first in the line of fire in case of an ambush. If his men died then that sucked for them but his own death would be catastrophic. He was constantly scanning the area checking for any sign of possible conflict. He was sending scouts out before them everywhere they went and because of his paranoia, they were moving slower than they probably should be.

Jamie hardly even slept at night, too great was the risk of one of the Northerners whose lands they inhabited, using his resting time to slit his throat and by extent his daughter's throat. He knew that no one in the North held any love for the Kingslayer. He was weary but he would be able to rest all he needed when he returned to his daughter. For now, a few hours of shut-eye would have to be enough to sustain him. He would be equally helpless in battle with or without being tired anyways.

"Tell them to blow the trumpets and unfurl our banners, let the castellan of Winterfell know that we are not an enemy," Jamie ordered Lord Marbrand who nodded and went to relay along with his command to the proper people.

Soon the Lannister banner was flying high above their army alongside smaller flags representing houses Marbrand, Lefford, Peckledon, Ruttiger, and many others. Also flying high, dwarfed only by the Lion of Casterly Rock was the stag of House Baratheon that was supposed to represent Tommen who had no Baratheon blood. Trumpets and drums sounded loudly all around him as his horse trotted through the high stone gates of Winterfell. Their entrance was a grand affair and as long as the Boltons didn't betray them was public enough to avoid a misunderstanding and conflict resulting in loss of life. Considering who the Boltons were, and their actions at the Red Wedding it was entirely possible that they were betrayed. Wasn't that a comforting thought?

Jamie dismounted from his horse once he was inside the gates and walked through the parted crowd to where who Jamie could only assume based on the flashy golden horse crest emblazoned on his vest was Lord Ryswell stood waiting to greet him. "Lord Jamie Lannister," The man called out harshly in greeting. "Lord Bolton told us to expect your arrival." He obviously did not hold warm feelings towards the Lannisters despite them being allies in this fight.

Jamie nodded. "We were ordered by the rightful King, Tommen Baratheon to report to Winterfell to join up with Lord Bolton and march on the wall to defeat this supposed Targaryen claimant."

Lord Ryswell shook his head. "Jon Snow and his wildlings have captured the Last Hearth, Roose is on his way there with five thousand men in order to prepare for a siege on the walls. I was asked to redirect you there and give you fresh supplies for your journey and a place to camp for the night."

Jamie smiled. It would be much easier to lay siege on the Last Hearth then the wall where they previously expected the battle to come from. Roose and his men getting there first would mean they should already have siege towers built and possibly had already taken the castle and killed Jon Snow by the time he arrived. Although, Roose was a cautious man so he might want to wait until his chances of victory were secured by the Lannister reinforcements. He was unlikely to lose and would soon return to his children and free his daughter from the noose around her neck.

"How many men does Lord Snow have?" Jamie asked. "Has he managed to gain the allegiance of any of the Northern Houses?"

"I've heard he has three thousand wildlings and that House Slate is the only one to declare for him thus far."

Jamie grinned. This was going to be easy if that was all Lord Snow had fighting for him. Even if he held the defensive position, they had more than twice the numbers of Snow and his undisciplined wildlings that had no experience in siegecraft. His life was never truly at risk here. His presence here was likely completely unnecessary as well. He would ride hard for the Last Hearth and soon he would have Jon Snow's head and return home to Myrcella to save her from her husband. Soon, he would be able to be there for his son. They had no time to waste on anything, he had to prioritize getting to the Last Hearth as quickly as possible. The sooner Snow was dead the sooner he would be home.

"Thank you for your offer of hospitality Lord Ryswell but it is too early to stop for the night. We'll keep on marching towards the Last Hearth."

Lord Ryswell tried to hide a smile at how pleased he was by Jamie's decision. "I wish you the best of fortunes in the wars to come Lord Lannister." He said pleasantly.

"As I do you," With that said Jamie resaddled his horse and prepared to march even further North.

"I have a plan!" Jon growled as he slammed his hands down on the table.

"When do you plan on telling us this plan, Your Grace?" Lyanna challenged. "The Boltons are outside theses walls and you want us to stay in here and hideaway. Why wait? If your plan is as foolproof as you claim then now is the time to strike. Before the Lannisters arrive and their army becomes even larger."

Jon wanted to screw in frustration. They had been doing this for hours, going in circles with his council demanding he acted now and Jon refusing. Them demanding he shares his plan and him refusing to do so. They were all restless and terrified but Jon couldn't act until the time was right.

Rhaegal was only a few minutes away by flight, he had settled on Skagos for the time being. Jon had chosen that location as the Free Folk there were much more feral and as far as Jon was aware they were almost-entirely illiterate. There would be no risk of the news of a dragon in the North reaching the Boltons or Lannisters in time to do something different in their attack. Skagos was only a half-hour away for a dragon so if the Boltons did decide to Storm the Last Hearth before the Lannisters arrived, Jon would only have to hold the castle for a few minutes before Rhaegal ended the battle.

His efforts in keeping Rhaegal's presence hidden would, of course, be in vain if he informed his council of his plan as he doubted they would keep it a secret. Someone who didn't believe his claim, possibly all of them would try to get themselves out of trouble by turning on Jon and he was not protected by Rhaegal from another mutiny, that would happen far too quickly and Rhaegla wouldn't be able to harm the mutineers without everyone else in the keep being caught in the crossfire.

So maybe he was wearing his full armor at all times- even while sleeping. Maybe he would spend half his time asleep warged into a broken raven that sat on his desk so he would be able to wake up if someone moved on him while he rested. Maybe he carried three extra knives on his person right now but he was right to be cautious. These men had no loyalty to him, only agreed to fight for him for power, or revenge. If they thought he was a lost cause then they would not hesitate to betray him and Jon had no plans to die again.

"The time has not yet arrived, I will inform you of the plan when you need to know," Jon explained while trying his best to remain calm. "If word of my plan reaches our enemy then it will fail. The only way to ensure that it does not reach them is to not speak of it. When the time is right, you will know the plan but not until then."

"And when is that time? When the Lannisters arrive?" Lyanna argued. "You have to trust us if we are going to fight for you."

Jon slammed his fists into the table once more. "Why should I trust any of you?" He snarled viciously. "Because you swore to follow me? Because you showed up?"

"I trusted the men of the Night's Watch because they swore an oath to follow my commands and that got me killed. The Whitehill's showed up intent on betraying me, why should I believe that you don't plot to do the same." He balled his hands into fists and looked Lyanna Mormont in the eye. "I do not trust you."

Lyanna tilted her head up. "Is it that you don't trust us or that you don't have a plan? Are you simply stalling for time trying to come up with something? You clearly aren't your cousin, he overcame much greater odds than his before he threw away his kingdom. He always had a plan, you clearly do not have a plan."

Jon gritted his teeth at being considered worse than Robb. That had always been a sore spot for him, he had always wanted to be better than Robb at something and he rarely had. He was a Targaryen and a literal fucking dragon; his brother was not better than him and never was. He made to make an angry retort but surprisingly Tormund saved him from having to answer.

"He just doesn't trust you, because he doesn't know you. King Crow told me his plan because I have proven my loyalty to him. He knows that I have no desire to betray him to those Bolton fuckers. He has a plan and it's a fucking brilliant one." Tormund said loyally.

Jon knowing Tormund as he did, could easily see that the giant man was lying and he could tell Varamyr knew he was doing so as well but the Northerners didn't know him well enough to accurately pick up on the signs of his lies. The Free Folk would, however, know if he tried to sell the same lie. Jon hadn't actually told Tormund his plan or even asked him to lie about it as he had seriously considered. The risk of someone overhearing was too great or perhaps it was just his paranoia. Tormund had apparently trusted Jon enough to lie without prompting. Perhaps, he should allow himself to actually trust him again. Tormund had never given him any reason to even suspect there was any consideration of betraying Jon. Yet Jon didn't feel like he couldn't trust Tormund for some odd reason, perhaps it was his lack of Valyrian blood and he should ignore his instincts. He would have to give it some thought.

"You'd trust a wildling over the Northern Men?" Eddison Slate, one of the chief advisors of the young Lord Brandon Slate asked.

"Yes," Jon answered honestly. "I'd trust the men who have proven themselves by fighting by my side and those who understand the real threat first. Prove your loyalty to me here, trust me to know what I'm doing against the Boltons and I will trust you."

Lyanna frowned. "We have no choice but to trust you now, Your Grace, our lots have already been cast but if you mislead us here then the North will remember. Our lives are in your hands for the better or the worse. Let's just hope your plan is as good as you claim it is."

"I can assure you that it is," Jon said quietly. "Now, I have preparations to make for the battle so if you would leave me in peace to make them, it would be much appreciated."

They slowly shuffled out of the doorway, content for now with trusting Jon after Tormund had so passionately vouched for him with a lie. Speaking of Tormund he was lingering behind as was Sansa who had somehow forced her way in with the rest of the men and women needed on the war council. He could hardly turn her away either or risk the North thinking that he was rejecting his Stark side. She would have a place there in time anyway, there was no reason to delay the inevitable.

"Would you step outside a moment, while I speak to my sister Tormund? We can go over the plans once we are done."

Tormund looked like he wanted to say something in protest but thought better of it and he too left the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Sansa was on him. "When will your army arrive?"

Jon bit his lip to stop himself from grimacing. "My ally should be here in three days' time." He neglected to mention the fact that his wargs knew that the Lannisters were only two days out. It was better that they think the Lannisters were still over a week away so they gave him more time without enacting their own plot. They could be surprised when the Lannisters arrived and he called down Rhaegal along with everyone else.

Sansa frowned. "Are you sure that they are coming? That they didn't sell you out to the Boltons? That this isn't a trap to have you unprepared for their attack?"

They were valid questions that Jon would be asking himself if he was actually waiting on an army but he had no doubts that Rhaegal would show up. He was Rhaegal. Rhaegal would show up at the perfect time and their enemies would burn. "I'd trust him with my life, he's the only man I'd trust so."

Sansa's brow furrowed as she tried to figure out who Jon could possibly be talking about but he knew she would never guess at the answer, she didn't even believe the dragons really existed, let alone that Jon had one or more accurately was one.

She sighed in defeat. "I'll trust you on this Jon… I don't know why you don't want others knowing about your army, but I'll trust you with this… just please don't do anything stupid. You have to win, if not for yourself or even me then for Rickon and Arya wherever she is."

Jon nodded. "Thank you for your support sister. It truly means a lot to me. I assure you that I have this well under control. In a few days, the Boltons will be dead and we will be leaving this place."

Sansa nodded once more and bowed before leaving the room. As she exited the room, Tormund entered.

"I appreciate your help during that meeting," Jon told Tormund in greeting. "Your claim that I shared my plans with you truly calmed them down, thank you."

Tormund frowned and took a seat across from Jon. "I believe in you Snow, I believe that you know what is at stake and won't throw everything away on a plan you're not confident in."

"I appreciate your faith," Jon said amicably, knowing that a but was coming.

He was proven right only second later. "But I am a horrible liar and the Northerns don't know me so they won't pick up on it but the Free Folk will pick up on my lie about knowing your plan when they ask and that will lead to me losing the respect of the Free Folk and will lead to everyone knowing that I don't your plan. I know that you don't want to trust anyone, Snow, and I can't say that I blame you after what the crows did to you but you have to tell me or else you'll lose the Free Folk and by extension the rest of your men."

Jon sighed. "We have wargs that spy on our enemies, what if our enemies have the same? What if the Umbers have a way behind the wall and Hother is listening in as we speak right now and relaying this information to the Boltons? I can not chance saying anything, even in private or someone could know and we could lose. If I keep it secret then our victory is assured." He tried to reason with Tormund.

"How can you hold this castle if all your men abandon you as they will? You have to tell someone, it can be me, it can be the little Lady or even tell your damn sister for all I care." Jon had to snort at the last one, he would never trust Sansa with this. She wouldn't believe him and would plot against him if she thought he was just delusional. "You need someone who can vouch that your plan is as foolproof as you claim and not have it be an empty boast." Tormund loudly voiced his protest to Jon's secret-keeping. "I'm not asking you to scream it from the rooftops or tell everyone. I'm asking you to whisper your plan in one fucking person's ear."

A warg could still overhear as a rat or raven with their sensitive hearing. Jon wanted to protest but Tormund was right. He did have to tell someone and it probably should be Tormund who he trusted more than anyone else here even if he didn't trust him fully. Tormund would at least believe his claims to be more than delusions.

Jon sighed and stood, leaning over the table to whisper in Tormund's ear as if he was a child trying to share the latest gossip. "I have a dragon," he muttered quietly. "None of our men will be at any risk, the Boltons will be helpless."

Tormund leaned back completely gobsmacked. "You're serious?" He asked a little louder than Jon would have liked.

"Aye. You've seen what happens North of the Wall, this should come as no shock to you. The plan is foolproof don't you see?" He asked loudly in case anyone was listening in.

Tormund nodded mutely, completely stupified. "The Dragon King!" Tormund laughed boisterously. "There truly is no chance of our defeat."

"Aye." Jon agreed. "Soon I will hold the North and we will be able to move our focus to the throne in the south so we can be prepared for Winter."

"To the Dragon King!" Tormund cheered, lifting the horn of mulled mead, he always carried on his person.

Jamie rode out at the front of the party to greet the Boltons outside of the Last Hearth as the trumpets sounded all around them. They were finally here, it was almost time to go home to his children and leave the dreary North where he was constantly surrounded by his enemies. He would take Jon Snow and Sansa Stark's head and return home a victor and a hero.

Jamie missed Tommen and Myrcella more than he ever thought possible. He hadn't missed them near as much when he was a captive of Rob Stark or when Myrcella had been sent off to hell by Tyrion. He wasn't sure he had even missed Cersei that much while he was a captive, he had certainly missed her body but not really her company. Brienne was a better company anyways. Cersei certainly hadn't missed him at all with how many men she invited into her bed while he was being starved and mangled.

As much as Jamie hated to admit it to himself, Jamie was missing Cersei- at least a little. He would likely never heal that ache. He hated her and the twisted controlling her she had become but he had once loved her and probably still did. He just hated her so much more.

He mourned his sister he once had, the one who actually cared about him and loved him. The one who wanted to be with him so badly that she had begged Jamie to join the Kingsguard. The brave twin that had been willing to pet a lion when she was six when even Jamie had been too scared to do so. His sister had always been the more fierce of them, like an angry lioness protecting her cubs. He had once loved that about her, he had appreciated that she kept him away from his children and found it endearing. He had thought she was doing it to protect him.

He had been a fool blinded by love and now he knew the truth, how awful she truly was to him and everyone else, and yet he still for some reason cared about her. He missed having her boss him around, although he knew that if she survived he would likely get furious with her for trying it again.

He missed the idealistic dream that he and she could be a normal family raising their children as their children and not Robert's. That one day they would be able to marry and show their love openly to all. He had fantasized about it regularly for years, albeit mostly the part about marrying Cersei. That dream was dead now, any chances of it ever occurring had died when he found out about her whorish behavior.

He regretted how he and Cersei had parted. The last thing he would ever say to her had been hateful. He had taken a pleasure in watching her fear, in knowing that she could do nothing and a part of him still enjoyed that memory and it was that thought that disgusted him. He should have kissed her one last time at least, given in to the urge for hate sex and left the taste of her lingering on his lips. He could have tried to resolve their issues and deal with them together. Perhaps he should have told her of Arianne's plot and prioritized their daughter's life over a war with Dorne. Fuck the Dornish, the Lannisters came first. Fuck everyone who wasn't them.

He wasn't sure that he still wanted Cersei alive either and he certainly wouldn't have wanted her back if she had survived. He just- he didn't know what he wanted. He wished that he could go back to the way things used to be. Before Tyrion had killed their father and revealed that terrifying truth to Jamie. Things used to be simple.

Jamie shook his head. What was he doing thinking about this now? He was almost home and then he could deal with it. He could not afford to be distracted right now, he could not allow himself to be killed. For Myrcella's sake.

"Lord Jamie Lannister, you arrived quicker than we expected." Roose Bolton said as he approached him to greet him. "I apologize for your rough treatment during our last encounter. I trust you've been recovering well?"

Jamie dismounted from his horse and nodded. "It's certainly been an adjustment but it's gone well. I appreciate your assistance in helping me get back to King's Landing." Jamie lied. Vargo had been working for Roose when he had taken Jamie's hand and he had tried to have Brienne fed to a bear. He was hardly looking forward to working with Roose again. The sooner this was over the better.

"I'm glad to hear it, Lord Jamie." He shook his head towards the boy standing a few paces behind him who stepped forward and held out his right hand. "I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting yet, this is my son, Ramsay Bolton, the Lord of Winterfell."

Jamie glanced away from the extended hand that was obviously meant as some sort of slight by the cruel smile on his face that reminded him far too much of Aerys. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Jamie. I've heard ever so much about you."

Jamie ignored his greeting and turned back to Roose. He did not care to deal with his legitimized bastard right now or play at politics that he really could not care less about. Those games were always better left to Tyrion. He idly wondered if Tyrion could come back now that Cersei was no longer here to persecute him for Joffrey although him killing Tywin likely made that impossible now. A pity, he missed his brother even if his brother did not miss him.

He mentally shook himself again. What was he doing getting so distracted? He had to be focused right now, more than ever. He turned to Roose to ask him a question. "Tell me of your dispositions."

Ramsay's jaw clenched at being ignored but Roose did not hesitate to answer the question. "We've only surrounded the southern part of the castle with minimal troops and trenches to the North." He explained. "The only thing North of here is the wall and fleeing there would be incredibly stupid. Most the wildlings can't ride anyways so retreat is an unlikely outcome."

"The Umbers tell us that the ramparts on the Last Hearth are relatively thin and the castle is hardly a large one so the bastard can hardly squeeze even a third of his army up there. We only need to knock down one wall and fewer men are at risk by focusing our attack in one area. The Umbers would prefer we don't tear their entire holdfast into rubble so it works in all regards."

"We were waiting for your arrival to take the Hearth. We've been constructing trebuchets and ballistae to take down the southwest wall which the Smalljon tells us is the least heavily fortified. We planned to not engage until you had arrived to minimize our casualties."

Jamie nodded. The plan was sound enough, knock down a wall, defeat Snow's army, kill the bastard and return home. "How many men does Snow have?" Jamie asked pondering how he could position himself to best keep himself from death or any conflict really without appearing as a complete craven.

"Roughly twenty-five-hundred and a single giant, his forces are made primarily up of Wildlings but he also has acquired the loyalty of House Mormont and Slate," Roose answered.

Jamie nodded once more, those were incredibly good odds. Ser Gregor was incredibly strong but Snow's giant would likely be inferior. Even if it was Ser Gregor himself, he couldn't beat a hundred men on his own. This had to be a trap, surely, Lord Snow wasn't this much of an idiot to think he could win with those numbers. "Do we have any word of what Lord Snow plans to do? Surely he isn't stupid enough to not have a plan with these odds."

Ramsay interjected before Roose could respond. "The bastard boasts of some unbeatable foolproof plan that none of our spies know the details of, he wishes to scare us into inaction- to stall for enough time to sneak away like the cowardly rat he is."

The realization hit Jamie suddenly. "The bastard plans on using the Night's Watch. He plans on having them come upon us from behind and cut us down while we lay siege. That's why secrecy is so key, the Night's Watch is too small of a force to make a difference if we know they are coming but if they catch us off guard they give him a chance at victory."

"I'll take half of my men and fortify the northern edge against a calvary charge. You can take point on the storming of the Last Hearth and Ser Daven-" He gestured at his cousin who had come to stand beside him, "will command the rest of the Lannisters forces during the siege. We'll want to strike fast before Lord Snow realizes that we know his plan. Prepare for battle at nightfall."

Roose looked like he would protest the assignments or timing but instead just nodded. "Good catch, Lord Jamie. At nightfall it is, the Night's Watch will not catch us unaware today and soon the Starks and Targaryens will be gone from the world for good."

"You told us the Lannisters were a week away!" Lyanna snapped at him as the Lannisters and Boltons met outside the gates. "Can you share your brilliant plan now?" She snarled. "How are we supposed to do our part if we don't know what that part is?"

Jon merely smiled. Rhaegal's excitement for this moment as he flew high above the sea en route for them right now was contagious. He too was excited to see people finally acknowledge him as the King he was and to quiet their complaints. He was also a tiny bit excited to see them burn although that was probably mostly Rhaegal rubbing off on him. Soon he would be King of the North and the rider of Rhaegal. He could hardly contain his excitement at finally meeting Rhaegal as a human.

"You don't have a part to play," Jon said perfectly calm. "You are required to do nothing but watch for my plan to succeed." He stood up and picked up the copper crown that he had doused in oil off of the table. "Come, sister, it's finally time."

As he expected Jon's complete lack of concern and dismissal of them left them too shocked to protest. They might plot to usurp him or flee now but the chances of either saving them were too small at this point that it would be better for them to hedge their bets with him. Even if they did try anything, it wouldn't go down within this hour and by then he'd have already won. They simply hadn't the time to act anymore.

Sansa followed him mutely out of the room? "Your other army is here? Surely, you weren't foolish enough to trust the Kingslayer?" She demanded once they were alone. "Why on earth would you trust him after what the Lannister's army after what they did to my parents and our brother? After what Joffrey did to me?"

Jon couldn't help but chuckle at her completely false rationalization. "No, dear sister, the Lannisters are not my other army. I don't have another army at all."

Sansa stopped walking and stared at him. "You what?" She demanded harshly cutting off his explanation. "You told me that you have another army, that you would trust with your life to show up. Are you saying that you lied?"

Jon chuckled once more. "I never lied, I said that I had an ally that I would trust with my life to show up. Not an army, that was all you."

"You have a single ally that can defeat the Lannisters and the Boltons without the help of the Mormonts or Slates?" Sansa asked clearly perplexed. "Are you truly as mad as your father, Jon? What man is greater than five thousand men?"

Jon hesitated before responding. He knew he needed to at least pretend to trust Sansa for his plans to progress beyond this one battle and this was hardly information that could hurt him at this point but it still felt wrong to share this with her. Although, it had also felt wrong to tell Tormund so perhaps it was just her lack of Valyrian blood causing Rhaegal and by extension, him to be hostile towards her. He didn't trust her but there was nothing to gain by withholding this from her any longer. He had to at least sort of trust her for what came after this. "I don't have a man, my betrothed sent me my dragon."

Jon had spent some time debating whether he should claim credit for Rhaegal's appearance or give it to his Daenerys. On one hand, he wanted them to recognize him as a King in his own right and not just the consort to the Queen. However, he knew that his betrothal once she accepted it and it was made public would hardly go over well with the Northern Lords. They would call him a traitor and refuse to accept her as their Queen until she earned their loyalty. Being able to credit her for the Bolton's demise would go a long way in endearing the North to her. Hopefully, it would get Sansa to back off on his "reckless and foolish" marriage proposal angle and get her to accept that his Daenerys as his equal rather than just another obstacle.

Sansa laughed bitterly at his response. "You're a fool, Jon. Your aunt lied to you, she wants you to lose here so you can't claim the throne. Dragons aren't real."

Jon couldn't control his rage at the insult towards both Rhaegal and his Daenerys. "You know nothing, cousin." He spat. " I can come back from the dead but dragons are impossible?" He laughed incredulously. "You do not know my Daenerys and you do not know Rhaegal. I've seen dragons with my own eyes, I've spoken with Rhaegal, I've flown with him, he's real and he's almost here."

Jon bit down on his lip hard to cut off his tirade before he revealed anymore. Jon has done all that with Rhaegal should be impossible from what Sansa knew and he was certain she had picked up on the possessive way he had referred to Daenerys. He had overshared and might have just revealed his greatest secret to Sansa there. If she knew that wargs existed then she would likely put the dots together and as much as Jon wished that he could, he knew that he couldn't keep their existence from Sansa forever, soon she would have to know. Soon he would be forced to trust her.

"How?" She asked breathlessly. Jon said nothing in reply.

"Are you sure Jon?" She asked quietly in some disbelief. "You really have a dragon?" She asked breathlessly. "And you're sure he's here?"

Jon nodded. "Aye. He's here and the time has come to finally kill the Boltons, now come I need you to identify some people for me."

Sansa nodded mutely and followed after him up onto the walls. The sky was overcast and the snow was falling all around. The Lannister's had only just arrived and had yet to take up defensive positions. A good portion of the siege towers were undermanned and Jon was certain that even if they were manned they were likely mounted in one direction and lacked the mobility to turn around and get Rhaegal before he could destroy them if it ended up necessary. Why would they be mobile? A wall didn't move. As long as Rhaegal didn't land there was no chance of him being harmed since an arrow would just bounce off his hard scales.

He stood off to the side, in an alcove with Sansa. "Point me to Roose and Ramsay Bolton. I need to know who to target." Jon whispered quietly to Sansa.

She nodded and pulled her hood up before taking a step forward. She pointed vaguely at a group of Bolton men. "They're the ones with a red cape made out of the human skin- Robb, his wife, and mother's according to Ramsay." She shuddered. "Their coats are lined with direwolf fur as well from Robb as he made sure to tell me all about, multiple times. Ramsay is the fat one right there with his thick lips and wormy fingers." She shuddered once again and Jon put a hand on her shoulder in a poor attempt to comfort her. "He's wearing red armor that has the bones and organs of a man engraved in it as if they had been flayed."

Jon nodded he had thought that one was Roose based on how fancy the armor was. "I see him. And Roose?"

She scanned the throng of people for a minute and pointed to her left. "He's over there, on the other side of the camp, standing next to one of the golden armored Lannisters. His armor is silver with screaming faces carved into his breastplate and a flayed man on his collar." She said quietly.

He scanned the crows as well and found the armor she spoke of. "Thank you sister, it's time." He dipped the copper crown into the torch mounted beside him and watched as the oil caught. He made to put the crown on his head but Sansa grabbed his arm.

"Jon," She pleaded. "Don't give Ramsay a quick death. Please- make him suffer first." She pleaded desperately.

Jon pulled his arm out of her grip and said nothing as he placed the copper crown upon his head. A crown that now happened to be on fire. Right now Roose and Ramsay were far enough apart that he could possibly make Ramsay suffer but he had to completely eviscerate one of them to show how hopeless they were against the might of a dragon. To force them all to bend the knee to him and later his Daenerys. They needed Dragons to be feared again.

He would make no promises but he would do his best to give his sister what she begged for. He had to appease some of her more reasonable demands for them to work together and for his plans for the seven Kingdoms to properly progress as planned. Sansa was a key player in the Game of Thrones that he needed to be able to utilize fully.

Rhaegal was only seconds away now, the moment Jon gave the signal he would be here. It was time for Jon to be crowned a King.

"Ser Alyn, I need you and Ser Lymond to set your men to digging trenches guarding the northern borders of our camp. Lord Snow plans on utilizing the Night's Watch in this battle and we need to be well defended on all sides."

"I will do so my Lord," Alyn Stackspear vowed and jogged off towards the camps to rally his men to do just that.

Ser Lymond Vikary lingered, staring ahead slack mouthed, clearly having not heard Jamie's command for whatever whore he was staring at. "Ser Lymond!" Jamie shouted at him.

Ser Lymond blinked owlishly and looked at Jamie for a second before glancing back to whatever he had been staring at. "Look, Lord Jamie." He urged him but did not look at him.

Annoyed, Jamie spun to see what had stolen the attention of his commander and the too went slack-jawed. Standing atop the wall was who Jamie could only assume was Jon Snow, dressed in full Targaryen regalia. He was certainly a Targaryen, there was no denying that despite his Northern features. They didn't stare because of his cloak or dragon sigil they stared because of headdress.

On top of his head, flames danced glowing in the flickers of the dark sky. The bastard did not burn, not even his hair as the flames rested on his head. He stepped forward, his face impassive even as a normal man would be screaming in pain. He was clearly who he claimed to be, a Targaryen bastard and unburnt.

A horrifying idea strick Jamie. What if this was the bastard's foolproof plan? He could not burn, did he have wildfire? Did he plan on completing the work of his grandfather? Did he plan on burning all of them to death while he remained unburnt and the sole survivor? He would kill thousands to defeat them including all of his own men, but in the end, as the only survivor, he would be the victor by default.

Jamie was going to die here. Burnt beyond recognition, dying in complete agony as the flames melted his skin into nothingness. He had seen the fire burn Rickard Stark while he served in Aerys's Kings Guard and done nothing. Now he would reap the fruits of his inaction and be burnt alive by the last Stark and Targaryen. He would cook to death in his armor.

Myrcella would die. He couldn't stop it, no matter what he did. He would die here and Nymeria would poison her so she would follow him to the grave. Tommen would be completely alone in the world, the last son of the line of Tywin Lannister. His daughter would die because the bastard was as mad as his grandfather.

No. He wouldn't let the bastard complete his plan, he would kill him just like he had his grandfather. "Ser Lymond, get the archers in position. Tell them to fire on my command. Aim exclusively for Jon Snow."

Ser Lymond shook himself out of his daze, "Yes, my Lord." He said quietly and walked off to do as Jamie had asked. Would the archers even be able to aim for Jon Snow from down here? Snow was fifty feet above him and he was wearing full armor, only a helm was missing from the look as he instead donned a crown of fire. Their bows weren't designed for precision hunting but for raining fire down on their enemies. The distance over precision and they might die because of it.

They also might live because of it, the emphasis on distance meant with the fifty-foot walls they could stand probably six hundred feet away from the wall and still have their arrows reach the enemy with a chance of actually doing damage. They would have more optimal angles because of that decision but Snow was five hundred feet away, how did they expect to actually hit the tiny target that was his unguarded face. And if they were all to aim for the exact same spot with a hundred arrows, then half of them would cancel each other out. He would try but realistically they had no chance of hitting Lord Snow. If he had wildfire they were as good as dead. Myrcella was as good as dead.

"I am King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen," The bastard shouted to the heavens. "Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The Unburnt, the Resurrected One, and the Dragon," He grandstanded. The first title was clearly true, but surely he didn't actually expect people to believe he had died. That had to be hyperbolic speech to excuse from his vows to the Watch without being called an oathbreaker. And he was calling himself a dragon? That was overly pretentious. Exactly like his grandfather had been, not at all like his father. His father had been a good man, the bastard's coin had landed on the wrong side.

"Kneel before me right now, and you will be allowed to live. Refuse and death by fire awaits you." He warned and Jamie knew that his suspicions were correct. The bastard really did plan on killing them all with wildfire as his grandfather had tried to do.

"Knock!" Jamie called as loudly as he could out heard the sound of his archers drawing their bowstrings; readying themselves to fire at his command.

"I have a different offer for you, bastard." The Bolton boy, Ramsay he thought it was shouted back. "I'll flay you alive and wear your skin as a cloak. I'll take your sister and put my baby in her belly. I'll kill all of your wildlings and dress my wife in their skins. I'll cross the narrow sea and take the other Targaryen girl to be my new plaything. I'll-" Jamie tuned him out. The Bolton boy was obviously just as mad as the Targaryen one.

Jon Snow's face darkened. "So you've chosen death then." He said loudly but perfectly calm. The wildling standing at his left blew his horn loudly.

"Draw!" Jamie screamed loudly to his men. Snow was about to do it, he was going to burn them all alive with his wildfire. That had to have been the signal to do it.

The horn sounded again. "Loose!" Jamie screamed as loudly as he could. Yet only a small portion of the arrows flew and all of them missed the mark. Why had they refused to do as he commanded? He turned around and saw that many of them had dropped their bows. Some had scattered and others were kneeling. How had Lord Snow's threat scared them so much? Why were they surrendering? They didn't know about the wildfire that Aerys had planned to use before Jamie stopped him. They had no reason to fear Jon Snow. The horn blew a third time.

Then Jamie heard the most terrifying, earth-shaking roar. He looked up.

Oh fuck.

Jon was furious. How dare the Bolton bastard threaten to do that to his Daenerys? He would die a very painful death for that. Forget eviscerating men as a show of strength to inspire fear and submission. He wouldn't even get the mercy of dying by fire. He had threatened his Daenerys and Sansa as well.

Rhaegal was here, it was time for the Boltons to get what they deserved. "So you've chosen death then." He declared to the bastard.

He focused on his connection to Rhaegal and warged into him. He looked down on the ground beneath him, his form obscured by the clouds and the distance he would cover in seconds. Eyes turned towards him, first one Lannister soldier who dropped his bow and nudged another and another until soon hundreds were looking at him and shaking- too terrified to even scream. Some of them falling to their knees in abject terror, others trying to flee from the scene.

He let out a roar that pierced the heavens and drew the rest of their eyes to him. That set everyone off. All around him men started screaming, tossing their weapons to the ground and dropping to their knees, men tried to flee out towards the woods where the Whitehill army should be waiting to cut them down after he had given them the signal. Usually, he would have reveled in their worship but right now he had a more important thing to focus on. Revenge.

He dove down low to the ground, but still high enough that they wouldn't have the reach to pierce his scales with their spears. He supposed it was possible that they could throw their spears and maybe have enough force to scratch his scales but he doubted it. He figured their fear would paralyze them and stop anyone stupid from commiting suicide by attacking him.

Jon let loose a torrent of fire on the silver armored man that Sansa had identified as Roose Bolton. He and the men in the immediate vicinity were consumed by the torrent of flames and rendered into naught but ashes. They now knew just how powerful a dragon truly was. Jon roared once more in triumph as he swooped up, he then swooped back down and released another torrent of flames upon the row of deadly ballistae that in legend the Dornish had used to take out Meraxes. The man who had murdered Robb was dead and the few things that could actually hypothetically threaten Jon were gone.

The men who had been standing near Roose or the ballistae but not in the immediate vicinity of either of his blasts were in various states of disarray. One man's helm had melted entirely and he was flailing on the ground as the liquid metal ran over his face just as his Daenerys had told him her first husband had done to Viserys when he threatened her son.

For an almost a hundred-foot radius from where he had targeted, corpses lay on the ground, killed solely by proximity to his flames. Their bodies and armor melted on their corpses, some of them were just skeletons on the dry ground and others still were just pules of mush. Within a hundred-yard radius, men were not quite dead but they were writhing around in pain on the burning ground, their skin blackened. They would likely die as well seeing as they were lying on burning ground, very few even trying to escape and instead just begging for the sweet release of death.

The ground where Roose Bolton had once stood was black and scorched beyond recognition. It would be a long time until this ground ever bore any life again, the flames had killed it. The grass a hundred yards out was aflame. Five-hundred yards out and the snow was melted, the ground warm and burning the soles of men's feet through their melting rubber boots. It had stopped snowing as well- at least directly above where Roose had stood. The clouds had parted at his command, the hazy blue sky clear directly above him, smoke and steam obscuring men's views still as they coughed and wheezed.

The stench of death was present and it smelt wonderful. The men beneath him were in disarray and dying and it was beautiful. The fire was purging all of the inferior men who dared to try to challenge a dragon.

He flew high and then dove down rapidly toward the eastern side of the army, men dispersing afraid that he was going to release a torrent of flames on the enemy once more. That was not his plan, this time, no he had to make the one who had dared to try to threaten a dragon pay.

He instead landed on the ground directly in front of Ramsay Bolton. The bastard roared and tried to lash out at Jon with his sword but Jon was quicker and caught the blade between his teeth and headbutted the armored man, causing him to fall back onto his back. He let loose a light torrent of flames in his throat and the sword melted in his mouth.

Metal still tasted awful so Jon spat it back out and deposited the molten metal on Ramsay's lap. He screamed in pain as the metal heated his own armor to the point where he was no doubt blistering beneath his armor.

That was hardly enough for Jon though. This thing, Ramsay had threatened to turn HIS Daenerys into a toy for his own amusement. He had raped his sister. He had threatened his Daenerys so he would die but he would not be given that mercy quickly, he would suffer first. He lashed out with a claw and dragged him towards his open mouth. He viciously tore chunks of his armor off with his claws until his armor was stripped away and his reddened skin was exposed.

Jon snarled and dug into his belly with his teeth. Ripping the fool apart with his teeth, eating him while he was still alive. The bastard screamed in pain as Jon ripped into his entrails and tore into the sweet delicious flesh. He tasted better than most humans did and they were already a delectable treat. He tasted of revenge and retribution.

Jon forced himself out of Rhaegal, after assuring the dragon to take his time with the treat. He stood tall on the wall, watching the chaos below him dispassionately. "Sound the horn, Tormund." He ordered. "It's time to end this."

Tormund did as asked and drew some of the attention back towards him. He didn't have everyone's attention in the chaos but he would get them quickly enough. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

"Once again I offer you the choice, bend the knee, or die. Northern men, throw away your weapons and swear fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen and you will be allowed to live out the rest of your lives in service to your King. Your ignorance has been forgiven. You will be allowed to return to your families, alive and mostly whole."

"Lannisters!" He cried out. "You have betrayed Houses Stark and Targaryen too many times to be forgiven but death is not your only choice! Throwdown your weapons and bend the knee and you will be allowed to take the black and serve out the rest of your days as sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. You will be on the front lines of the great war. I urge you to give up your helpless crusade and bend the knee to your rightful King; I King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen."

One of the men, an Umber he was pretty sure was first. He thrust his sword up in the air and screamed. "All Hail, Jon Stark! The King in the North!" He dropped to a knee and plunged his sword into the ground.

"The King in the North!" Another man echoed and then another and another until soon all the Northern men were kneeling before him. Then much to his shock, even the Lannisters knelt.

He watched as men fell to their knees all around him with a grin. The battle was won. He was now King in the North.

Jamie Lannister had thought wildfire was terrible but Dragonfire was worse. Wildfire was contained, it obliterated anything in its path but only what was in its path not everything in the surrounding area and certainly not as quickly or efficiently as the dragon did it.

He had feared that Snow's unbeatable plan involved the Night's Watch joining the battle or wildfire like his grandfather, not that beast. Dragons were supposed to be extinct, some maesters even claimed that they had never even existed. That was clearly not the case. Jamie like everyone else had heard the rumors from Essos about Daenerys Targaryen having dragons but they had been assured by Varys that those were just baseless rumors, inflated with every passing tale. Varys had betrayed them and freed Tyrion, why did they still assume his information had been correct?

Somehow Jon Snow had managed to hatch a dragon of his own, in secret, and some time ago for it to be as large as it was now. How had no one found out? The obvious answer was the more terrifying option. Jon Snow hadn't hatched his own dragon but instead borrowed one from his aunt, which meant she had dragons as well and if the tales were to be believed, they had two more dragons between them. Dorne might have taken out one dragon during the days of Aegon the Conquerer with the dragon killing scorpion. The walls of the Red Keep might be lined with those same scorpions even but Dorne had taken out one dragon with thousands of bolts over the years. Taking out three? That was nearly impossible.

After all, Jamie had sacrificed to try to keep his children alive, it would be meaningless in the end. He had given up Casterly Rock to save his daughters life. He had sacrificed his honor by killing Aerys. He had stayed away from his children to keep them safe from Robert. Yet, at the end of the day, the second Mad King and his Queen would complete his grandfather's work and burn all of House Lannister to the ground for Jamie's heroic actions. His children would die, they were too much of a threat for them to be allowed to live. Jamie would be executed for the one thing he did not regret. A Targaryen would sit the Iron Throne once again and all this bloodshed in the last twenty years, in the end, would have been meaningless.

He would never get to hear his son call him father. He would never get to see his daughter smile at him again. He would never hold her in his arms or console here on the loss of her mother. Jamie would die and his death would cause a power struggle among the Westerlands, the Lords who hadn't been pleased with him choosing to name Myrcella who was distinctly not a Lannister as his heir. The fact that her position was not yet official would make it all too easy to contest her claim.

Ser Daven would die with him here and leave the office of Warden of the West wide open for anyone to claim. Ser Kevan would likely be chosen by Tommen as he should have been before Jamie had ascended to the position. His claim would very clearly be contested by anyone with a drop of Lannister blood and would cause the Westerlands to wage war with itself as Lady Myranda Lefford tried to claim it should have gone to one of her daughters as she would be Ser Daven's heir and even Jamie's position wasn't really official.

Myrcella would have zero claim to the Westerlands after Jamie's death and as such useless to the Martell's so they would murder her and likely try to side with the Targaryens so Arianne could be Queen. With three dragons, the North and Dorne; while the Westerlands were caught in the civil war amongst themselves, there was no chance that Tommen would emerge victorious in their war. Both of his children would die here to put another Targaryen on his son's throne and it would be all because of Jamie that both his children died.

He had to survive so his children would. He couldn't do anything stupid and go out in a blaze of glory. He could pray that there were still some ballistae left that he could try to get to and get a lucky shot with, that would require the dragon being directly in his line of fire since the ballista had been built to destroy a still target, not a dragon so it lacked in mobility and adaptability. He could try to kill the dragon but the odds of success were infinitesimal and he would likely be killed in the process.

He could order his men to shoot arrows at Jon Snow and hope that they killed the bastard King but even if they did that would not stop the dragon from decimating the rest of them, heck, it would likely only encourage the beast to do just that if Jamie was remembering Tyrion's many ramblings about dragons correctly. If Jon Snow was the only Targaryen trying to threaten Tommen's claim to the throne than Jamie would give the order with only a little hesitation, Myrcella and he would die along with countless others but Tommen might live. He would save thousands of lives possibly and stop Kings Landing from being burnt to ashes once again. But fuck Kings Landing and all of its denizens. He had to protect his children, not the random commoners and that would be how he would stop Jon Snow if he was the only Targaryen.

However, Jon Snow was not the only Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen was building power in Essos. After seeing one dragon, Jamie was inclined to believe that the rumors were true and she had more dragons. She would still be able to control the dragons without Snow and it would still result in both his children's deaths even without the bastard alive. He would have only removed any feelings of mercy the lost Princess might have had towards his son if he were to kill her nephew.

Perhaps Jamie should flee like a craven. Abandon his men to die at the hands of the Mad King and escape with his own life to try to keep Myrcella alive. Except if he abandoned his men to die would the Westerlands still accept him as their Lord? He doubted it. If they didn't accept him as their Lord than Myrcella again would be useless to Arianne and be executed before he returned to King's Landing. The only way she would survive was if Jamie somehow managed to get back to Kings Landing before news of his cravenness did and managed to abscond with Myrcella before she could be killed. The odds of that happening were only slightly better than him actually managing to kill a dragon.

The wildling sounded his horn once again, the same horn that had managed to summon the bastard's dragon previously, and Jamie tensed up expecting this to be the end, the moment he tore his dragon away from the Bolton boy he was eating to instead rain fire on Jamie and kill the rest of them. The horn managed to pierce all the chaos that had ensued in the wake of the dragon's arrival and attack and in spite of himself, Jamie found himself looking towards the bastard King once again.

The bastard had a huge grin on his face and he looked pleased as he witnessed the destruction all around him. He looked exactly as Aerys did when he would burn men alive. Unstable and insane, he took joy in their suffering. He liked watching them burn and would do so again with pleasure. His children would be burnt by the Mad King, as reparation for his most honorable act.

"Once again I offer you the choice, bend the knee, or die." The bastard screamed, sounding far too like his grandfather had before Jamie killed him. Fire and blood, that was the only way the Targaryens lived.

"Northern men, throw away your weapons, and swear fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen and you will be allowed to live out the rest of your lives in service to your King. Your ignorance has been forgiven. You will be allowed to return to your families, alive and mostly whole." Jamie paused there. That almost sounded like Rhaegar, the bastard's father and not his grandfather, the mad one that Jamie had previously thought he emulated. Aerys would have never given the men a chance to turn after the first warning, he never would allow men to return home without any punishment after siding against him. He would have executed every single person who betrayed him without a second thought.

"Lannisters!" The false King cried out. "You have betrayed Houses Stark and Targaryen too many times to be forgiven but death is not your only choice! Throwdown your weapons and bend the knee and you will be allowed to take the black and serve out the rest of your days as sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. You will be on the front lines of the great war. I urge you to give up your helpless crusade and bend the knee to your rightful King; I King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen."

Jamie couldn't take that offer any more than he could flee or try to kill the false King. His taking the black would mean he loses his position as Lord of Casterly Rock and his daughter would lose her usefulness to Arianne Martell. She would be murdered and Arianne would side with the Targaryens. Tommen would lose the war and be killed as a threat to the bastard's reign. Jamie wasn't selfish enough to preserve his own life at the cost of his children's which is what he would be doing by surrendering here.

Jon Stark, The King in the North! Men all around him chanted as the Northern men surrendered to Rhaegar's son. Yet, the bastard had said he was King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen. He wasn't calling himself a Stark first because he was like his uncle, the honorable, judgemental, ironically even treasonous, holier than thou Lord Eddard Stark. Lord Stark would have never tolerated such a vicious display of power like Jon Snow's dragon. He had to be doing it for political reasons, to gain the North's loyalty beyond just their fear of his dragon. If that was the case than he had to have some political savvy, more than they had given the bastard credit for. The bastard wasn't mad and unstable like his grandfather- he was cold, cruel and calculating. He had offered mercy for the political value not because he was benevolent. His understanding of the politics involved in his decisions made him a more dangerous enemy than the first Mad King had ever been.

Jamie had value, surely, this King wouldn't be foolish enough to throw it away to force him to take the black. Jamie was Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, he was too valuable as a hostage to be wasted on the wall. He had even more value now than he had as Robb Stark's captive now and surely the new King in the North wouldn't waste that on revenge for his mad grandfather's much-deserved death. He was the father of the King for the Seven's sake. He would be kept alive as a hostage and in control of the Westerlands if he bent the knee here.

He had to betray his son in order to save his daughter's life. Even if he did betray his son by kneeling to this usurper it didn't guarantee his daughter's safety. Arianne Martell could still decide to side with the Targaryens and kill Myrcella anyways. He didn't think she would since the Martells hated the Starks almost as much as the Lannisters, and in particular Lyanna Stark but it could happen. He had to bank on the Martells greed to have Casterly Rock keeping Dorne on the side of Tommen. He had to hope that Jon Snow didn't offer to make Arianne Martell Queen of all the Seven Kingdoms because if he did than Myrcella would die.

Jamie would retain his position in captivity and it would delay the death of his daughter for a time at least if Arianne didn't ally herself with Snow. Tommen would have the best chance at winning his war if Jamie were a captive. The Westerlands would still be his so Arianne should leave Myrcella alive and there would be no civil war among the Lannisters for control of the West since it would just fall back to Jamie if he somehow escaped. The Martells would hopefully stay on Tommen's side and they might have a chance at defeating the dragons as Walder Frey would be forced to side with them and the Greyjoys likely would be in the same position. They could hopefully count on Baelish as well since they were the ones who had given him his power and maybe every other Kingdom united would be able to topple the Dragons with just the North at their backs. The odds of everything working out perfectly was small but surrendering was his best chance at ensuring the survival of both his children.

Jamie pulled out his sword and tossed it to the ground before dropping weakly to his knees in surrender and fealty to the enemy of his son. He hated this but he had no choice. He had to keep his children alive. There was no other way to do that but to bend the knee to Rhaegar's son and pray that the crone would guide him where he needed the false King to go.

As the handful of men who had not yet kneeled, at the dragon's roar, steadfast, remaining loyal to Jamie and Tommen until the very end saw Jamie's actions and surrender they too fell to their knees around him. They would declare this bastard as their king to ensure all of their survival and the survival of his daughter. For Myrcella and Tommen, Jamie would do anything.

Holy shit writing action is hard, especially a massacre of such extreme proportions. I realize Rhaegal comes off as absurdly overpowered in this, and quite frankly he is but not this absurdly overpowered usually. The advantage of surprise was the key to this decisive of a victory. If they had prepared for a dragon then they might have held their own but they expected an army of wildlings, not a literal dragon. As such the ballistae were not designed for maneuverability but instead accuracy and force so as long as Rhaegal didn't fly in their crosshairs he couldn't be touched. There is also the psychological advantage of having a dragon that no one expects creates as the paralyzing fear of death on wings that you couldn't prepare for cripples them further. Future battles will not be as lopsided once they know that he has a dragon but the secrecy was the real weapon here.

Jamie finally grows a backbone and fights against the blackmail from Arianne now that distance has given him the time to think things through somewhat and realize how in theory he could murder the Martells before they have a chance to poison Myrcella if he is willing to say fuck it and let there be a war with Dorne. Something that on paper it's not hard to see Jamie deciding in the circumstances that force him to convince himself he's not the good man he wishes he was after being sent to kill the Tully's and before the moment actually arrives where he is forced to make a choice between thousands of life and the land he leans towards being selfish. Would he follow through on that decision had he been given the choice? Maybe or maybe not.

I've seen the promise to Rhaegar about keeping his children safe so many times in Fanfiction that I had honestly convinced myself that it was cannon when I wrote this. I fairly certain it's not now but it fits the theme of Jamie's arcs so well that I left it in. His whole storyline has always revolved primarily around broken oaths, and what honor truly is or if it's even possible.

The scene with Lyanna Mormont was originally supposed to be in the last Jon chapter but I opted to postpone it till this chapter since that one was already so long. Her interactions with Jon were a ton of fun to write since we know how steadfastly loyal she is to the Starks and the North as a whole. Jon in a lot of ways by proclaiming himself a Targaryen is threatening that. The taking the Mormont family sword was primarily meant to be a test to see if he was worthy of the sword and being a Stark King.

Giving people the illusion of a choice is one of the most powerful things that one can do to enforce compliance. When someone is forced into something they'll fight it kicking and screaming the whole way but when they think that they chose the same thing they'll follow obediently. Not giving someone a choice means even if it's illogical they won't obey but when they think they chose this path then it becomes what they want as it always has been. People like to maintain control and while you obviously don't want to actually give them control, you want them to think they have it. This will be a reoccurring theme in this story.

I might still decide to bring Bronn back because he's a really fun character but he was probably killed off-screen. In this time period, nobles are taken hostage to either be ransomed or just used as leverage to force a surrender and the common folk are too often executed when their commander loses as they have no value as prisoners. Actually, they have a negative value since they still have to be fed and confined which close confinement between hundreds of prisoners could easily cause diseases to fester that can cripple an entire army. Later in medieval times, we see common folk being held captive and ransomed back to their families with an oath to never take up arms against them again but there is no evidence of that actually ever happening in Westeros so it would be illogical to leave a single sell-sword who does not actually command any men or seemingly have value as a hostage alive.

Rhaegal had to land somewhere while they waited for their enemies to arrive and Skagos was the only logical location. Jon couldn't wait to call him much longer in case the Boltons attacked before the Lannisters got there believing victory to be assured anyway, and he couldn't exactly hide Rhaegal on the mainland where his presence would be detected beforehand and news could get to the Boltons. Skagos is according to the little we know about it, an island of undisciplined savages and a raider tribe. More importantly, is the fact that they are isolated from the rest of the world and don't follow the Kings of Westeros even if they are technically a part of the Seven Kingdoms. It's highly unlikely that they also have ballistae of their own so they have no real methods to harm Rhaegal and can't get information out to the Boltons or Lannisters. They're rarely visited by the civilized world, even by sailors and merchants, and considering no one actually believes Daenerys has dragons from the tales of sailors why would they believe that the Skagosi have a dragon on their islands from the same unreliable source.

I'm not a big believer in secrets especially when it is as widely known as Jon's supposed unbeatable plan. Even if Jon has a blockade in place to try to prevent external communications things will still leak out. Even when the Night's Watch was under a blockade, the occasional raven made it out. At that point, his resurrection was believed to be a baseless unsubstantiated rumor since so few were able to testify of it at the time. Jon has not made it a secret that he has claimed to have a foolproof plan and that is a much more believable thing to believe from a single source someone coming back from the dead.

Jamie assumes that Jon's giant is someone like Ser Gregor and not an actual twenty-foot tall behemoth as Wun-Wun is because giants are supposed to be a myth. The Boltons might know differently but they also assume that Jamie would know the same so they don't feel the need to specify to him what it actually is.

So everyone knows that Jon has an unbeatable plan but what will people think that it is? Will they think it's a bluff like Ramsay? Will they think that he expects a portion of the Boltons bannermen to betray them? Will he plan on going out for a treatise before the battle and breaking the tradition of treating and forsaking honor like the Boltons did? (While that would be extremely satisfying and amusing, it would be incredibly stupid to actually go and meet the Boltons in close quarters before the battle since the Boltons have already broken guest right once before.) Jamie is the son of Tywin Lannister who considers nothing is too sacred for a power-hungry man trying to win a war, and thus believes that he would do but Tywin would do. The Night's Watch is sworn to take no part in the wars of men so no one ever considers them a threat at all. If Robb hadn't broken his vow to marry a Frey, I do believe that Tywin would have found another sacred tradition or right to break and win the war. The Night's Watch is one possible avenue since most people there don't take their vows completely seriously and aren't loyal to the watch. If you neutralize those truly loyal to the watch and a King offers to let the Men of the Night's Watch leave and return to their old lives; 99% of them will take them up on that offer and do whatever the King commands. An unseen enemy that no one suspects is a powerful tool even if it's just a small force like the watch. We see the force that Stannis's cavalry charge has on a much larger wildling army in canon and while Stannis had more men than the men of the watch, so did the wildlings. If Jon did actually manage to mobilize the watch against the Boltons and catch them completely off guard than it is entirely possible he could have overcome impossible odds and taken the army. Not foolproof but possible with the element of surprise.

Of course, Jamie changes course here when he sees Jon on fire because of his history with Aerys and wildfire. He will always associate fire with the Mad King and his wildfire to destroy Kings Landing. When he sees Jon on fire, his mind jumps to the Mad King's grandson rather than Rhaegar's son. If Jon can't burn then why wouldn't a mad man burn everyone else? Wildfire is certainly foolproof if he actually gets to use it and is immune to it's effects. His sole mission very quickly becomes killing Jon before he can kill them all but aiming a bow at the top of a 50 foot tall wall and at only a single target, as small as ones head is not exactly a plausible goal and you realistically need to be even more precise to actually kill him and not just injure him. Even if Rhaegal hadn't stopped most of the archers from shooting by simply showing up, the odds of them actually hitting him in such a precise location while so far away is abysmal. Bows aren't really great weapons to use when trying to take a castle. The range of a English longbow while in medieval times was somewhere between 175-250 yards and that's at a flat angle and not shooting up against gravity. That's also not even factoring in how accuracy factors in. Shooting his unguarded face was always a longshot to stop him from killing them with Wildfire but what better chance did they have?

Sansa incorrectly assumes that Jon's other army was the Lannister one when he says that is time for his plan to be enacted since they're the only army that just not arrived. He tells her that Rhaegal is coming and of course she continues to not believe that dragons are real but when Jon slips and reveals to her that he's seen Rhaegal for himself; she forces herself to accept the possibility that maybe Jon is right about this. Regardless, it's too late to plan anything else with the armies on their doorstep so her only real option is to believe Jon and intend to commit suicide if he's wrong.

The Boltons canonical armor is so horrifying and grotesque like holy shit. They are definitely the most stylish of the Northern houses. Writing Ramsay is super hard and while he is a fun character, Roose even more so; I am very glad that they died and are no longer things I have to write.

Dragonfire is gruesome but considering the canonical ability to turn humans into ashes, armor, bones, and all the destructive power of it can not be overstated. 10,000-degree heat even in such a small spot for such a short period of time could theoretically cause some climate change even although in the world of Westeros where the weather and seasons don't behave normally probably not so it's only the clouds directly overhead that become superheated and disperse. It's not just the men in the flames who die but those around it who suffer the most. The men in the flames are dead before they process the pain but the ones caught in the blast radius burn to death slowly and painfully. The cold climate of the North is enough to stop a complete forest fire from erupting but when a dragon goes all out with no holds barred it's going to be devastating.

Like with Aegon taking Harenhal, this battle was more so about making a statement of how they should fear facing a dragon then actually just winning. Just Aegon showed that walls are no real challenge for a dragon to defeat and Jon took it a step further by saying if you face a dragon then you are actively choosing to court death with no help of otherwise. The US bombed Hiroshima with a nuclear bomb not just to win the war or avenge pearl harbor but to show people they were the most powerful and that opposing them meant death. A dragon is the medieval equivalent of a nuclear bomb. Devastation will always follow in its wake. Fear isn't always the answer but it is a powerful motivator and when you plan on completely rewriting the rules of society then it is a motivator you have to use. Fear won't always force compliance but it does help things along and it does make people willing to compromise.

Ramsay doesn't get torn apart by dogs set on him by Sansa in this but getting torn apart and eaten alive by a dragon is almost as good even if it ends quicker.

Jamie is put in an impossible situation here. His death means Myrcella's death. His taking the black means Myrcella's death. His fleeing like a coward would also likely result in Myrcella's death. Even if he somehow manages to kill Jon, it probably still means Myrcella's death. Jamie takes the only possibility that could mean Myrcella lives, surrender, and hope he's too valuable of a hostage to be sent to the wall. No one will start a civil war for temporary control, so even if Myrcella isn't given command of the Westerland forces right now, she will still be in the position to potentially be his heir. There is still the risk that Arianne cuts the cord with the Lannisters after finding out that Jon has a dragon and simply kills her anyway but it's a chance he has to take since it's the only one that might result in her survival.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter somehow. It's far from my best work, and covered a lot of things that I have very little experience writing. Next chapter is a shorter one from Sansa's perspective for the aftermath of the battle but it also includes probably my favorite scene in this story so far. Look forward to that one next Friday.