Tyrion quickly drove away thoughts of Sansa's possible betrayal, and preferred to ask Jaime directly:

''And what solution could our sister have found in case she lost?''

Jaime looked at him for a long time, and sighed:

''I shouldn't tell you. Cersei made me promise to keep it a secret.''

Tyrion looked up to the sky:

''Oh, please. I am your brother.''

''You may be my brother, but you serve our enemies. I have no way of making sure that what I say to you will not be immediately repeated to your queen as soon as you walk out of this room.''

Jaime's doubts hurt Tyrion's heart. The thought that his brother thought he was no longer trustworthy hurt him, mainly because he knew he was incapable of unintentionally harming him.

After all, Jaime had been the only Lannister to show him hatred and contempt, the only Lannister who had not wanted him dead since the day he was born, the only Lannister who believed him innocent of Joffrey's murder, even though it was his son, the only Lannister who had prevented his execution and set him free.

Perhaps Jaime was really angry that he had sent him to Essos. Maybe he regretted doing that, sending him to bend the knee and pledge allegiance to the Mother of Dragons.

Maybe he blamed himself for having, indirectly, brought Daenerys and death to Westeros.

But he must have known that Tyrion would never hurt him, or do anything to make him unhappy.

If that meant having to make sure Cersei was alive and safe, then so be it.

(He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he could never have hurt Cersei either. Never. Even if he didn't want to confess it to himself, it was true, he knew it, deep down inside.)

Tyrion looked at his brother again:

''Jaime, I would never betray your trust. You know it, you must know it.''

Jaime didn't say anything for a while, but then he finally breathed:

''For about twenty years, Cersei has known a secret that she is, presumably, the only one who knows.''

Tyrion stared at him intensely, waiting for the rest.

Jaime continued:

''As far as she knows, Jon Snow is not Ned Stark's bastard, as we were led to believe. He is the son of Lyanna Stark, and of...''

Tyrion finishes his brother's sentence for him:

''... and Rhaegar Targaryen.''

Jaime frowned:

"How do you know? Who told you?''

''Sansa, who herself learned it from Jon, who learned it from their brother, and from his best friend, Randyll Tarly's eldest son... I think.''

Jaime nodded his head but said nothing, and Tyrion paused hesitantly, before asking the question that had been tormenting him for long minutes, unbearable, unbearable:

''What about Cersei, how does she know?''

''She was at court at the same time as Lyanna Stark. They were friends. Lyanna told her that she was pregnant, and Cersei vowed not to talk about it. She didn't say anything when she married Robert, because he would have had the child killed. She and Ned Stark were the only ones in confidence.''

''But why didn't she ever tell us?''

Jaime shrugged:

''She made a promise, she kept it. Just as she honored her word, by sending me and our men into the war against the White Walkers. The walls of the Red Keep have ears: it wasn't safe to talk about it there. I understand why she preferred to keep it a secret.''

Tyrion nodded.

''And what does she intend to do if she loses the war against Daenerys and King's Landing falls?''

Jaime sighed, looking at him for a long time, as if he was examining him to see if he was really trustworthy, as he claimed. Just as Tyrion thought he would refrain from answering, Jaime sighed again, before saying:

''She will reveal the identity of Jon Snow. Being the son of Rhaegar, he is more legitimate than Daenerys to be the next king of the Iron Throne. He is, after all, the male heir of the Targaryen dynasty. She thinks that he will be more merciful to us, and that he will let us live, since we will have indeed contributed to the Great War, as we had sworn, and ...''

Tyrion cut it off before he could finish his sentence:

"Jon Snow doesn't want the Iron Throne.''

"He was raised by Ned Stark. He has an honor from Stark, the same honor that made him refuse Cersei's offer, when he could have lied during the talks at Dragonpit. Even if he doesn't want the Iron Throne, he will accept it if he has to.''

There was only one instance where Jon Snow could have been forced to accept the throne, and Tyrion knew exactly what it was.

For Jon to accept, Daenerys would have to die.

Tyrion looked at Jaime:

''It might work, but only if Daenerys is killed. And, as you certainly know, it is not easy to occire her.''

He thought back to the attack on the spoils of Highgarden, to how the golden fool who was his brother had taken a spear from the ground and rushed it straight at her, without thinking for a moment, as she turned her back on him, busily pulling out spikes from her dragon's skin, putting as much ardor into it as if she had been the one who had been wounded. Just as that same dragon had spit its flames at Jaime, who would have been burned alive if Bronn had not thrown him into the river.

''If Cersei reveals Jon Snow's true identity to everyone, the Lords of Westeros will be in his favor rather than that of Daenerys. She doesn't need to kill her for that. If she loses all the support she has for Jon, she will no longer have any claim to the Iron Throne. He is the rightful heir.''

Basically, it was a great idea, and Tyrion knew it. Cersei had more than one trick up her sleeve, and she had proved it again.

But now that he knew she knew, a new question arose.

Should he tell Daenerys?

If he didn't, he would be guilty of treason.

But if he did, and told her about Cersei's plans, who knows what she would be able to do?

To Sansa, to Jaime, to Cersei, to their baby?

No.

He couldn't.

He couldn't put Sansa and her brother and sister in such danger.

He had no right to.

Even if it meant putting himself in danger, he wouldn't do it.

oOo

''I'm sorry, Your Grace.''

Cersei took advantage of Qyburn's turned back to wipe her tears with the back of her hand in a gesture filled with rage and despair.

She didn't want to cry in front of him, although it certainly wouldn't be the first time.

She felt horribly stupid.

She knew exactly what had happened, what had happened.

She had known it from the moment she saw the blood smeared in a large scarlet stain on her sheets.

She knew it long before Qyburn confirmed it.

And yet she had allowed herself to hope.

Hoping that this was just a nightmare, nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

Hoping that her little lion cub was still there, safe, in her belly, away from all the horrors of the world.

Hoping that when she put her hand on her belly, she would feel the tender bulge indicating that her baby, Jaime's baby, their toddler was still there.

Of course, that wasn't the case.

Cersei swallowed, sighed, nodded gently, and put her gowns back in order.

She sat up, straightening herself from her reclining position, and Aramis rubbed her huge head against her in a meager attempt to comfort her.

In vain, of course.

She remained silent for a few minutes, which seemed to her to be hours, before finally saying:

"It is not your fault. You had nothing to do with it.''

Qyburn approached her again, worried.

He knew she had been excited about the prospect of this new baby, as unexpected as it was unhoped.

And yet, all that hope had just been swept away like that, all of a sudden, without warning, without anything or anyone being able to do anything about it.

And he knew she would be shattered by it.

As if that wasn't enough, her brother wasn't there with her.

He was on the other side of the country, caught up in the war against death, the war against the dead, when she could never have needed him more than she did at that moment.

He clumsily put his hand on her arm, his monkey daemon touching the shoulder of the Queen's lion in the same way, and said:

"If there is anything I can do for you...''

Cersei lowered her eyes, no longer managing to hide the tears that were slowly streaming down her cheeks, nor the trembling in her voice:

"Not much, I'm afraid...''

Qyburn gently rubbed her arm, and, swallowing her tears, she rose slowly, slightly wobbly, before moving, without adding another word, towards the door, standing upright again, as a queen should be, letting nothing show of the misfortune that had just befallen her.

oOo

During the few days following his discussion with his brother, Tyrion carefully avoided being alone in the same room as Daenerys.

He even tried not to cross her burning amethyst eyes, for fear that his betrayal, the proof of his felony, would be visible, all too visible, in his own emeralds.

But he did not manage to postpone indefinitely the moment when he would be alone with her, and the fact that one of the Unsullied prevented him from going out at the end of an umpteenth session of his Small Council on what to do about the capital, Although the only thing Daenerys wanted to hear was that she would be obeyed under all circumstances, that Jon Snow did not want the throne, that Sansa would do nothing, and that she would be allowed to put King's Landing to fire and blood if that was what she wanted, led him to believe that his queen knew far more than he wanted.

As soon as everyone was out of the room, Daenerys signaled to the few eunuch soldiers to follow the movement and withdraw from the room, which they did without the slightest resistance.

They were the only ones left in the room.

The tension was palpable.

Until relatively recently, Tyrion would never have believed anyone who told him that he would one day feel such uneasiness at the prospect of being alone with Daenerys.

He was even just looking for that, to be alone with her, so that she could see what he was worth, how loyal he was to her, how faithful he was to her, the most faithful of all her servants, the most trustworthy, too.

But he didn't really anticipate that Sansa's life, Jaime's life, or even Cersei's life would one day enter the equation.

And now that he was up against the wall, he didn't hesitate about what the choice he would make would be.

There was a long silence between them, which sent chills down Tyrion's spine.

He knew he had to be careful. One wrong word, and he could immediately end up being burned alive by a dragon.

After all, Daenerys had already warned him many times what would happen if he disappointed her again.

And, judging by the expression on her face, that's exactly what he had just done. Again.

Daenerys looked him in the eye:

''It seems we share a secret in common, don't we?''

Tyrion was well aware that there was no point in trying to lie, to get away with it. She wasn't really asking a question, she already knew the answer. She obviously didn't need him to know what had been said or to prove it. Attempting to hide the truth from her would be absolutely useless, except for the act of her impending death.

He blew:

"That's right.''

She went around the map of Westeros, and came closer to him:

''And it also seems your sister is in the loop, too, as far as I know.''

Tyrion opened his eyes in surprise.

It was one thing for her to know that he was aware of Jon's identity. That she knew that Cersei also knew about the secret was another.

He didn't answer, not knowing what to say to save his own skin, and that of all his loved ones.

He glanced furtively at Stelsa, who was hiding under the table.

He was quickly reminded of reality by Daenerys:

"Who told you?''

Quickly, quickly, something had to be found. He couldn't accuse Sansa, Daenerys already had enough suspicions as it would be like signing her death warrant, and he couldn't bring himself to do that.

Daenerys didn't wait for his answer:

''It doesn't matter anymore. What does matter, however, is the identity of the person who saw fit to reveal everything to Cersei, thus compromising my legitimacy for the claim to the Iron Throne.'

Tyrion was surprised by the apparent fear in his own voice:

''It wasn't me, I swear to you.''

Daenerys observed him harshly.

"It wasn't you I was thinking about.''

He sighed, almost relieved.

"Lady Stark, on the other hand...''

His blood was just a trick.

No, no...

''Lady Stark seems to have a lot to hide, and I wonder if a certain complicity with your sister might be one of them. Besides, she was one of the only ones who knew Jon's true identity."

''Sansa has absolutely nothing to do with this story. I'll vouch for her.''

He didn't miss Daenerys' dark look in her eyes:

"And how can you be so sure?''

He had to find something, something to say, something to answer, something that would justify Sansa's innocence.

''Jaime. My brother Jaime told me.''

''Your brother...''

''It can't be Sansa's fault. It can't be her who gave the information to Cersei. Otherwise, how else could my brother have known? He left the capital more than a month ago, long before this revelation came to the surface. If Sansa had indeed communicated this confidence to my sister, my brother could never have known. Somehow, Cersei knew beforehand. Perhaps even before all of us.''

Daenerys was forced to face the facts.

Tyrion must have been telling the truth. His reasoning was not devoid of logic. That Sansa had spoken to Cersei about Jon's identity seemed unlikely, too unlikely for her to accuse the young Stark without risking the wrath of Jon, and, by extension, the wrath of the Norse, whose support she needed in her conquest of the Iron Throne.

She felt herself bubbling with rage.

She had wanted so much, she had hoped so much to finally catch the young Stark.

So, when she had learned from one of the many spies in her pay that Cersei, in King's Landing, knew of Jon's lineage, she jumped at the chance.

But just when she thought she had finally managed to trap Sansa Stark, she slipped through her fingers, once again.

She addressed her Hand again:

''You're right. In retrospect, it seems unlikely to me that Lady Stark is really Cersei's source of information.''

Tyrion seemed relieved.

Daenerys came a little closer to him again:

''But I warn you. If I ever find the slightest proof, the weakest proof there is, that Lady Stark is truly conspiring with Cersei, and she will pay the consequences, however heavy they may be.''

And she added, as he seemed ready to leave:

''And since you're vouching for her and her honesty, that goes for you too. ''

With that, she left the room, leaving him alone with Stelsa, distraught.

What kind of trouble had he just gotten himself into, got them all into?

oOo

Night had almost fallen on Winterfell when the bell rang.

Everyone rushed into the castle courtyard, just in time to see three horses galloping through the still open gates.

Jon was caught in the middle of the crowd, but still managed to clear a path, followed by Ghost.

As soon as he looked outside, he immediately recognized the three men who had just made their entrance.

Edd Tollett, Tormund and Beric Dondarrion.

As far as he knew, they were at Eastwatch, when the fortress had collapsed with part of the Wall under the assaults of the Night King.

He was relieved to see them alive and safe, but their unexpected arrival could mean only one thing.

The dead were already there.

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