They were currently going through one of the times when they would be accompanied by silence. That was barring the quiet noises that sounded around them, the rustling of leaves on high branches as the wind gently swirled, the distant cries of animals that were either running away from them or getting a closer look, the crunch of the ground as their horses continued their steady plod. The silence wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It was actually quite comforting. There was no way that they would have been able to talk constantly throughout the duration of their journey. Jon Snow was not a man made for small talk, even if Oslen would have been happy to keep the conversation going. No, the silence did them good. It gave them time to think as they slowly made their way further south (the frosty bite in the air reminded them that they were definitely still in the north though). Jon liked to stay in his head for considerable chunks of time; they'd sometimes go hours without talking. The main thing that was playing on his mind was what Sansa wanted to tell him, which was understandable as it was the main reason for their visit. Even in writing, he could tell that she felt it was vitally important and, if it concerned their late brother, it would undoubtedly be serious. He had considered the fact that it could be a trap, as his riding partner had suggested back at the camp, but, deep down, he knew his sister wouldn't joke about something like that. At least, the sister he had known wouldn't. Jon hoped that she was still that same woman, despite the obvious fear she was going through. The worry that she had to make a name for herself, the notion that she had to give a better life to her people regardless of the fact that the majority of them were already happy enough. In a sense, that was the driving force behind his decision to come - his sister was scared and it was his job to fix that issue.

As they'd maneuvered around the many obstacles in their way, normally steep inclines and treacherous paths that could claim even the most nimbly footed of steeds, it had given him time to also think about his other family. That's what he had called the people he had left behind as they travelled to King's Landing. Before the two of them had left, the letters from Sansa had only increased in frequency but they had dried up from Daenerys. As each day passed by, he feared that something had gone wrong or was bound to happen to them. The longer it took to reach Sansa at Winterfell, the likelier it was that she would do something drastic. He comforted himself with the knowledge that his queen had plenty enough protection around her. Her army was larger than most put together and he couldn't think of anything that could best her loyal warlock. He still worried though. When they stopped for the night, the black sky their only companion, and minutes ticked by with them not getting any closer to their goal. It drove him to ride faster when the sun rose, much to the annoyance of Oslen. She was an able enough rider herself though and could easily keep up - she just liked to moan that she was being forced to do that.

They had passed through the Wall with as much fuss as Jon had expected. With time against him, he had naturally not wanted to stay long. But he had also wanted to enjoy seeing many of his comrades again, eventually deciding to stay the night and tuck into a hot meal (it beat sleeping on the cold ground that they were begrudgingly getting used to). Eddison Tollett had been happy to see him and even happier to highlight the improvements he'd introduced at Castle Black. He'd spent the evening as they drunk copious amounts of ale waxing lyrical about how easy it was to be Commander. Jon had retorted that it was bound to be when they weren't at war, wanting to defend himself to an extent. That had prompted a score of boisterous laughter at his expense. They'd also been all too eager to ask intrusive questions towards Oslen, wondering who she was in relation to Jon. His cheeks had coloured a bright and wonderful red as the insinuations became increasingly less discreet and polite. To her credit though, Oslen had come back at them with the point she was her own woman, not something to only be described in connection to Jon. That had warmed her to the others rather quickly. The only issue they'd faced during their short stay had come in the morning when Alliser Thorne had argued they couldn't let them through without a proper explanation (Jon was reluctant to tell them too many details about the reason for their impromptu journey). He believed that, despite a general growth of acceptance towards the wildlings after the war, people wouldn't like them running about below the Wall whenever they wanted. However, Jon had felt his protests were almost half-hearted, as if he was just doing it to keep up appearances - Tollett had soon overruled him and they'd set upon their way once again.

That was the last time they'd spoken to anyone else. The ramifications of the White Walkers were clear to see in how empty the land was, families evidently destroyed as they'd approached Winterfell. It left a sombre atmosphere hanging over them but they'd still managed to talk, getting to know one another. There was something that he couldn't put his finger on about her, something hidden beneath the surface. All he could tell was that there was something she was hiding, keeping close to her chest. A small part of him wanted to be allowed to see that part of her. He looked over at her as she rode on his right, trying to not make it too obvious that he was staring. The only issue though was, because no one else was around and the scenery hadn't really changed for a number of hours, she almost immediately picked up on the change in his behaviour. She smirked when she caught him, dragging her hand through her red hair to tuck it behind her ear. Jon tried to play it off as if he hadn't been spotted doing anything particularly wrong, acting as if he'd simply been looking at the trees behind her. Even he knew it wasn't going to work.

"I don't mind you looking," she flirted. He'd found she liked to do that a lot, mainly because she'd figured out it made him incredibly uncomfortable. "I hope you realise that. I'd just like to know why you were looking."

He shrugged his shoulders, now looking straight forward. Anywhere but at her. "Do I need to have a reason?"

"Not especially. I'm just curious. You can't fault a girl for that, surely."

"If you must know...I'm just curious about you," he admitted. This was the exact opposite of the sort of conversation he preferred.

"I'm flattered. What, in particular, are you curious about? So I can see if I can...enlighten you."

"We've spoken a lot over this journey. About a lot of things. But...I feel like you're hiding something from me. There's more to you than you let on. And don't say that there isn't because you'd be lying."

Oslen shook her head. "Well then, how can I answer? Because I'm not hiding anything. Why would I? There's nothing exceptionally exciting about me."

He looked into her eyes (or as much as he could - it was a fairly difficult task when you were also controlling a horse) and he was ashamed to see how hurt she was by his accusations. She was either a brilliant actress or he had gravely misinterpreted her. Either way, he hung his head, wanting to take back the moment he'd even brought it up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place."

"Stop apologising. It's as if, every time you say something vaguely wrong around me, you're instantly trying to make up for it when you don't have to! That's not how the Free Folk do it. In fact, you asking me all that is the first time you've shown me since I first met you that you're finally becoming like us. It's a good thing. If you had those worries, you needed to get them off your chest. We wouldn't have been able to work well if you were constantly questioning...my motives or something! I'll take it as a compliment that you think I'm capable of any of that."

"So...you're...normal?" He winced at his wording.

She laughed. "No one's normal. Have you seen what we're like beyond the Wall? There's no fun in being normal anyway. All you need to know is that I am me. And that's a guarantee."

"I'm glad about that. It's just...you've heard about the things I've seen."

"I've heard murmurings. Tell me about it. We've got a lot of time to pass after all."

"Don't know where I'd start. You wouldn't believe most of it. Fighting against hordes of the dead. When I close my eyes, I still see them running towards me. In my head, I don't even have a sword. They just swarm around me and there's nothing I can do about it. If horrors like that can exist in the world, can you blame me for having doubts about people?"

"I can't imagine how you even sleep at night."

"I survived. That helps. We beat them. Well...that was down to Bruda."

Oslen seemed to perk up at his name. "You've mentioned him before. You speak about him with such...reverence. Why?"

"I've seen dragons fly above my head, controlled by a young woman. But even that magic can't compare to what he could conjure. He was a warlock. Is still a warlock, as far as I'm aware. I haven't seen him since I was last in King's Landing. But he saved everyone that day. He saved the entire kingdom. He defeated the Night King. We owe him everything now I think about it. Even just being able to ride around like this, without those worries hanging over us. I didn't say it enough to him."

"And he survived all that? How?"

Jon shrugged, not sure why she was so interested about that. "I don't know. One moment, we were told he'd died. The next, he was charging through the castle, hell bent on writing a wrong. I suppose it had something to do with his magic. I wasn't told the specifics."

Oslen appeared deflated at his comment. "He sounds...impossible." She looked up to the sky. "The sun is nowhere near setting just yet. Tell me more."

xxxxxxxxxx

Bruda tried to pull himself to his full height as Ustrina stalked into the room. He glared at her but she didn't seem to care. She sauntered around the throne room, glancing at the rubble that was blocking the doorway behind the two men who had stayed behind. The ceiling had caved in just as the others had left; Bruda saw that as the only good thing that had happened that day. She rolled her eyes at the sight, beckoning four of the soldiers from the group that had followed her. Their faces were pale and gaunt, ghosts in suits of armour. Bruda and Marwyn stared at them in a mix of fascination and fear as they began to clear the mess.

"I'm presuming you told them everything about me before they ran away," she said as she circled them, her eyes fixed only on the throne. "I have to say I'm a little disappointed. Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, running away from the fight. It seems almost out of character. Or maybe she's not as mighty as the stories claim."

"She knew she couldn't win today. She made the right choice in going before you came. So that she can fight another day," Bruda defended his queen strongly. He felt that he had to do, given how much he'd already failed her.

"It's not a decision she'd make though, is it? I'm disappointed in you too, Bruda. Ordering her to do it, I reckon. Betraying me so easily and for what? You lost. And now poor Isabella is going to have to suffer for your actions. To teach you a lesson."

He stiffened, his nostrils flaring as he looked at her in anger. "You won't harm her."

This time, she did look at Bruda. Her eyes flashed red and her smile curled, a truly cruel sight. "You need to understand one thing, warlock. Unlike your precious Daenerys, you cannot tell me to do anything. I could do anything I want to Isabella. I brought her back after all. I could hurt her, torture her, kill her. I could click my fingers and seduce her, make her putty in my hands. I don't know whether you'd be heartbroken at the sight or if you'd enjoy it."

He tried to ignore her remarks, knowing that she was simply saying it to rile him up. To make him make a mistake, to force her hand. "You created her like you created these new puppets."

She smiled, understanding that his changing of the subject meant she'd struck a nerve. It was too easy to taunt him. "Created? No. They were reborn in the flames. This world hasn't seen such a surge of life in its history. That's what I did here. I gave them life again. Can you stand against that? What do you think of them?"

"They're a disgrace. This isn't life. They're mindless drones, bent to do your bidding, work to your will. Life is more than just...existing. It's about choice and free will. You didn't let them choose to come back."

She rolled her eyes. "You've always been one for poetry. You don't see the full picture. I'm not just talking about their life. Look at them. This city has seen the greatest soldiers throughout history pass through its streets, many of whom died here too. Bringing them back allows them to form the greatest army the kingdom has ever witnessed, defending its people against all foes. Thousands will survive because wars will cease to happen, enemies perturbed by the mere knowledge of what awaits them behind these walls."

"So you did all this...to create an army? And here I thought you were actually going to be original. You're nothing more than another insane, deluded narcissist. It isn't down to you to rid the world of war, especially if it means everyone has to end up like this."

She was standing next to him, prowling. She gently dragged her nails over the back of his neck. He could feel her breath on his skin, she was that close. "Why can't it be down to me? It takes someone of immense power to bring about meaningful change. Merge that person with the most powerful position the kingdom has to offer...then there's no end to the life I can bring."

"And what happens to Daenerys in all this?"

"She's probably still in this castle, trying to find a way out. If my men can't find her before she leaves, then so be it. She's no longer my enemy. She has no power to stand against me."

"You're not going to search for her? You don't want to kill her?"

Ustrina laughed coldly. "Trust me, it would have been easier to be rid of her. But I have more important things to focus on. All she was and all she achieved has disappeared. She doesn't have the throne, she's lost her dragons, and the old man she loved is standing by my side. I've taken everything from her. I won't take her life. I haven't done this to kill people."

Bruda couldn't believe what he was hearing. It just didn't make sense and the fact that she actually believed her words showed how mad she really was. "You killed people before! You set fire to the streets of King's Landing. The people you say you're now looking over will have perished. Hundreds, maybe thousands. You stood there and heard their screams."

"Let me ask you a question. Have you ever killed anyone?" She didn't need to wait for his answer, getting it from the way he froze. "Of course you have. Can you remember how many people you've killed?" Again, no answer came. "I thought so. Tell me then, how you can sneer at me when I've done nothing you haven't before."

"I've never killed innocent people."

"Perhaps. Neither have I. The fires were contained. People ran because they couldn't understand what was happening and they were frightened. But few died, other than soldiers. And they're always a casualty of war. It comes with the territory of their profession. And those who did die won't for long. More flames will come, more people will be resurrected. I can purge the kingdom of that pain...forever."

"You're deranged," he snarled, his fingertips lighting up in a flare of golden light.

Before he could do anything, he found himself on the ground again. Ustrina had sent a blast of magical energy at his legs, making them crumple under him. Marwyn hurried to his side, helping him sit up. They watched as she walked away, not caring about the warlock's condition. She stood in front of the throne, looking at it in satisfaction. Slowly, she placed her hands on it, relishing in its feel. It sent a surge of power coursing through her body and she tilted her head back as she closed her eyes to enjoy it. "I'm victorious," she amended. Turning around, she lowered herself into the seat. As she did so, wisps of black smoke appeared around her head, shaping into the visage of a crown. It held no joy like the crown Daenerys had worn. It was darkness woven into an intricate pattern, a single red jewel moulded into the front. It sat on top of her head, standing out against her flaming hair. The soldiers that had followed her moved further into the chamber, standing in lines as they knelt in front of their queen. Marwyn and Bruda shared a fearful look, knowing that it was worse than they had imagined, realising they should have gone with the others.

"Do you not kneel as well?" she asked them both, turning her head to look at them. There was a threat in her voice, an icy sharpness that cut through the fire of her persona. "Grandmaester. I was surprised to see you here. Is there a reason for that?"

He stood up, his old bones shaking as he moved to stand in front of her. He tried to not think about the army of the dead behind him. He'd hoped he would never have to deal with one of those again. "A ruler needs counsel, even you. I would have been a disservice to Daenerys on the journey they've been forced to take but I can still be of use to you."

"How very presumptuous. What do you bring that I can't conjure up with a wave of my hand?"

He hesitated, a bead of sweat getting caught in his brow. "Experience. You may be powerful but you have never ruled before. You can't do it on your own. And the castle will still need to be tended for. All I ask is that I continue with my job."

"Then kneel. Kneel before me and show me any loyalty you had to Daenerys Targaryen has gone. Promise me in this action that you will serve me dutifully as your queen. Your one and only queen."

Marwyn looked at Bruda for advice. The warlock nodded his head slightly and the maester repeated the action. He lowered himself to the floor at the feet of Ustrina, who smiled.

"I'm glad you did that. We always got on so splendidly. Now...Bruda. Will you do the same?"

It was difficult for him to stand up without his staff but he managed to bring himself next to his remaining friend. His lips were set in a thin line as he glared daggers at her. It only served to please her more. "Do you really need me?"

"It's true that my powers are greater than yours but your capabilities are nothing to ignore. Once you finally understand what we can achieve together, I feel you will never remember a time when you doubted this choice."

"I will never understand or follow you," he spat out.

"Then you will stay here as a message to Daenerys. Whenever she hears my name, she will think of you and her heart will break. Her drive will be shattered and she will give up with the fantasies of ever winning again."

"So there's no need for me to kneel."

"Oh but I want you to. I want to see you do it willingly. I've dreamt about this moment ever since I first laid eyes on you, all those years ago. And Isabella would be much better for it if you were to comply." Her sweet smile at the end was doused in the twisted pleasure she was getting out of this. Bruda clenched his fists in anger, at being reminded of how he was being so easily manipulated. Ustrina glanced at his hands to see if he was going to do anything but no magic appeared. Instead, he slowly brought himself to his knees, giving in to her wishes. His new queen smiled.

xxxxxxxxxx

The rusted iron gates moaned as they were pushed open. Jorah was the first to emerge from the tunnel, his clothes covered in dirt. He shielded his eyes from the light, trying to adjust from the dark and gloom of the pathway they'd just traversed. Varys, who had been surprisingly nimble-footed as they'd traversed the slippery stones of the sewers, had been right about how easy it had been to get out of the city limits. It actually concerned Daenerys how simple it would have been for an enemy to sneak inside but the eunuch had assured her that he was the only one who knew about it. He'd had the others killed, just for his peace of mind. As they all walked out, one after another, they looked back on the city. They could see the distant trails of smoke blowing away from the buildings but no fires anymore. It seemed that, once Ustrina was inside the castle, she had seen fit to stop attacking the people. That was a small relief to the band of recently-labelled fugitives.

Daenerys was only just holding onto her composure, her face a trained mask. How many years had it been on the way to the throne? She often lost count. How long had it been since Drogo had died, placing her on this path to supposed glory? The thought of the deceased Khal only reminded her of what she was running away from. So much had happened in the few days since that revelation that she had somehow forgotten about it for a time. Her fear was that, no matter how far she ran, she wouldn't be able to outrun him or the guilt he brought up within her. But she didn't want to run. This wasn't her decision. In the tunnels far below her castle, she had attempted to persuade them all to go back, to fight this creature. They had reiterated Bruda's sentiment, that it was the best, and only, option to them for the time being. But she knew that she would eventually come back. Daenerys wanted to quench the anger that was billowing away inside of her. It was a renewed hatred of magic that had once made her kill the witch Mirri Maz Duur. Now it was focused on a new sorceress, who had defiled her dead husband. It was even aimed at Bruda, who had gone behind her back. What sort of a queen was she if she couldn't even see that happening? Maybe she deserved this fate.

They trudged away from the tunnel, no longer bothered by the mud and sewage that they were having to wade through. In the fields next to them, some people stopped to look at them, curious about these strange figures. They were of a low class, unable to seek passage into the safety of King's Landing, instead tending to its agricultural needs. They wouldn't say anything about this. Who could they tell anyway? No one would listen. Still, Jorah made sure to cover Daenerys as much as possible, preventing her from being recognised. Even if Ustrina hadn't sent soldiers out searching for them already, which she likely had, Daenerys would still be easily spotted if they weren't careful. That was the main cause of his anger towards the warlock. He had known that this would happen eventually. Not only had his secrets forced them to flee like this, but it had also left them dangerously unprepared. How could they possibly go anywhere without being figured out? They were a strange enough assortment of people as it was.

Tyrion grimaced as he looked back at the opening they'd come out from. "When I first redesigned the sewer system at Casterly Rock, I didn't expect my career to come to an end as I escaped through one." His attempt at levity didn't seem to work. Some of them glanced at him but nothing about their expressions changed. Jorah and Daenerys, out in front, appeared to either not hear him or ignore him. He guessed that was understandable. As Hand of the Queen, he rightly felt that he had failed them all. He was the one who had confronted Bruda about the strange goings on in the Keep, on the bequest of Missandei, but he had been foolish enough to believe that the warlock could cope with the situation a lot better than he had done. He sighed, knowing that belief had come from what he'd seen the other man do, defeating the Night King, fighting armed men without a sword. Tyrion had forgotten that all men age and weaken, which had obviously happened to their friend. If he was still classed as such. He wanted to explain away his responsibility, to claim that seeing his father had messed with his head, stopping him from thinking like he usually would. As they walked away from the city, he came to the conclusion that now wasn't the time for excuses, as much as there was no place for jokes.

They eventually made it to a small outcropping of trees, sheltered and covered out of sight from the King's Road. Daenerys could have laughed. She was planning to change that name to suit her winning of the crown. That would have to wait now, if it ever happened. She looked at everyone else, who seemed in just as much a state of worse for wear as she was. Missandei was fighting back tears, Tyrion occasionally comforting her. Shireen was clinging onto the leg of Davos, who was stroking her hair and whispering calming reassurances. Bronn and Varys were looking around shiftily, on high alert for the sound of soldiers marching towards them. Melisandre seemed the most distant of the lot, which was understandable. She hadn't uttered a word since being forced to leave the throne room, since being dragged away from the man she loved. For all they knew, Ustrina could have killed him as soon as she saw him, along with Marwyn. Despite everything he had done, Daenerys knew, deep down, that she would be heartbroken if that was to happen. She couldn't even imagine how Melisandre was feeling in comparison. What intrigued her was the sight of Gendry looking at the red-haired woman, as if he were seeing her in a different light. Daenerys presumed that something must have happened when they'd first run from Ustrina.

Jorah made his way back to her side after looking beyond the trees to see what was ahead of them. "The road is oddly empty. She must have closed the city gates to stop anyone from leaving."

"And if anyone had heard about what was happening, they would have quickly turned around and started in the other direction," Tyrion sagely pointed out.

"What's the plan then?" Daenerys asked. "We've got to have a plan." Her voice was almost desperate. "Where do we go?"

Jorah looked at her, then the others. "The first thing we have to do is find some new clothes." The women were still wearing long, luxurious dresses, although they had been ripped and muddied in parts during their frantic escape. Varys was dressed up in his normal fine robes, which he'd rolled up to an extent but it was still unwieldy. Even the men, although their clothes were practical (Jorah was happy that he had his chainmail on and not his full suit of armour), had sigils of the Crown and Targaryen family, which would be noticed straight away by any keen eye. "Even if the road is empty for now, we'll eventually come across someone. We'll want to do our best to pass off as normal travellers."

"We don't exactly have any coin to spend on new clothes," Bronn said.

Gendry nodded his head in Melisandre's direction. "She could magic us up some clothes."

She was about to explain that she barely had any energy left after the previous extensive use of her powers but Daenerys cut in before her. "I'm not in the mood for any more magic today," was her sour response. Melisandre glared at the other woman but kept her mouth closed.

Jorah sighed, not wanting any tensions to arise straight away amongst the group. That would get them nowhere. "We'll come across inns and places like that. If we don't have enough money, we'll be able to trade. Fine material like we have won't be sniffed at and most people won't want to ask any questions when they're getting a good deal."

"And transport?" Davos asked. "I'm okay to walk for now but Shireen won't be able to for miles on end."

"I...I can walk if I have to," she muttered quietly, not liking being the centre of attention.

"Inns will have horses and carts," Varys assured them. "If we have any money left over, we can take them legally. If not...well, at least we have some able swords at our side."

"But after all that," Daenerys pressed on. "Where do we go? Who'd help us?"

"We can't go east and try and cross the Narrow Sea," Davos spoke up. "Word would spread among the sailors and the dockworkers. We'd get nowhere before being found."

"We have allies though. Olenna Tyrell at Highgarden. Surely she would give us shelter whilst we plan our next move."

"That's exactly where Ustrina would expect us to go. Forgetting that the Turells would probably not risk standing against a woman who can burn a city to the ground in a matter of seconds, she's probably already been told about all our allies by Bruda. She'll be sending soldiers around to everyone one." Tyrion's point did make sense but it angered certain people.

"Bruda wouldn't do that!" Melisandre shouted strongly, the first thing she'd said so far.

"He's the reason we're in this mess so I wouldn't put it past him to do this as well."

"Be careful with your words, Lannister. I know that Bruda is a good man. We all know that. He made a mistake but would you have been able to stop a woman of her powers? Would anyone here?"

A silence descended on them as they thought about her point. Jorah held up his hands to calm them once again. "We can all agree that what Bruda did was wrong. He should have spoken to us, given us more of a warning. But the fact is that he warned us in the end, when he couldn't stop her. That's got to prove he's still somewhat on our side. And there's no point in arguing about it when we can't do anything about it."

"If we can't go to any family that's friendly towards us, then there's one obvious option left for us," Varys spoke. They looked at him curiously. "The last place they'd look is in the North."

Daenerys laughed coldly. "Sansa Stark would have my head as soon as I step foot anywhere near her home."

"For what end? Right now, you are of no threat to her. You can't defeat her or stand in her way. You both have a common enemy right now. If anything can unite you, then it's that. And she is the only one in the entire kingdom who has the strength to challenge Ustrina, if armies are to be of any consequence. It's the best option. And the only one that I can see us surviving through."

"It's going to be one long fucking journey," Bronn moaned.

"Then we'd best start walking," Jorah responded.