Two days after the Wolf's privately celebrated departure from King's Landing, Jon wandered through the devastated Red Keep. The ash had finally stopped falling, blanketing the city like heavy snowfall, hiding the worst scars and gutted buildings. Part of a wall seemed to collapse, cinder seeping off in waves, and unfolded itself into Drogon. The dragon stretched his wings and turned his head to look at Jon.
Drogon made no threatening move, but Jon did not linger. Just above was the throne room where he'd asked Daenerys to meet him.
He steeled himself for the likely battle of wills that would ensue. Come what may, today he would get a straight answer from her. Would Daenerys relinquish her right to the North as she'd promised, or continue to hesitate and beat around the bush, revealing she'd never intended to unbind any of her servants from their oaths?
As he approached the throne room, Jon slowed. He thought he could hear voices and clanging noises from within. But who could be there at this hour? When Daenerys did not sit on it, no one had much reason to be inside.
Slowly he pushed open the door to the throne room and stood frozen at the sight. Most of the throne room's walls had been destroyed during Daenerys' assault on the city, leaving the throne exposed to the winds. But now, in the air above the Iron Throne where the roof once stood, the Wolf's longship hovered, long chains thick as a man's arm dangling from either side.
The Wolf's men were hammering and levering with crowbars at the base of the Throne, sliding wooden beams into the gap and then sliding the chains underneath it. The Wolf himself barked out instructions and corrections from the ground. Slowly a corner of the monstrous chair lifted into the air, held up by a dozen chains.
"Jon?"
Jon whipped around. Daenerys was looking at him, looking happy for the first time in weeks.
"What are you doing?"
"I- don't go in there!"
Even as he said it he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Daenerys frowned. Fortunately he was spared having to justify himself by the Wolf's voice.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
Daenerys looked startled, then looked at Jon. She pushed past him, and he made no attempt to stop her.
If Daenerys was stunned into silence, such was not the case with the Wolf, who visibly relaxed.
"Oh there you are, Dragonqueen. Don't worry, we'll be done soon, and should be able to leave by the afternoon. Less, if your dragon's already eaten."
"You- how-"
Daenerys floundered for only a moment. She drew herself up to her full height.
"So. You were after my throne the entire time."
"Oh no, just learned about it this morning."
Jon stared. The giant seemed entirely unconcerned, as though the seat of power of the Seven Kingdoms was the entirely natural and appropriate reward for his services to Daenerys. Behind him, the marauders had succeeded in lifting the Iron Throne entirely off the ground, and were hauling it up towards the longship, foot by foot, with much sweating and what Jon took to be enthusiastic cursing.
"Would have been a lot more convenient if they'd warned me earlier, I agree. But such is the will of the gods."
"You disrespect me, you cause my children to be murdered, and I don't doubt you've fed your ship on the people of the city. Now you steal my throne."
The Wolf frowned, but still showed no sign of the terror anyone contradicting a woman wielding a dragon should feel.
"Hold on now, Dragonqueen, that's hardly fair. I'm not stealing anything."
Daenerys' expression spoke for itself.
"You're coming along too, obviously. This is all in your name, after all."
"In my nam- DROGON!"
The Wolf's eyes went wide and he drew his sword. A shadow fell over the throne room, and the floor trembled and cracked as Drogon landed heavily next to them. The marauders shouted nervously.
"Dracarys."
Drogon moved forward, nostrils flared. So did the Wolf.
He snarled something at the dragon, who responded with a growl and spread his wings wide. The Wolf made a contemptuous noise and stood tall, arms spread out, his cloak billowing behind him.
The two monsters stood hissing and roaring at another, until the Wolf jabbed his thumb at something above and behind him. Jon followed the gesture, seeing the longship's dragon-head prow twist about and snap at them.
Whatever the Wolf had said, Drogon reared up, head pointing skywards, drawing air into his maw. The Wolf laughed, and took up a fighting stance.
Jon shot a look at Daenerys. Her face was an expression of smug contentedness. It was not hard to guess her thoughts. At last she would be rid of the Wolf in the same way she had been rid of his traitorous sorcerer.
Drogon's jaws opened wide, dripping fire, and he breathed out, turning his head suddenly. A stream of fire lanced from the dragon's maw, striking the Seafang amidships. Men screamed as they burned, the prow bellowing in turn, wood cracking as both halves of the longship fell. Sparks and burning timbers scattered everywhere.
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!"
Jon had heard cries of anguish before, from mothers losing their children, criminals on the way to the gallows or farmers losing their stores for the winter. But none of them spoke of such depths of despair and horror as the primordial scream that ripped from the Wolf's mouth. Even the death throes of the crewmen or the Iron Throne crashing to the floor below could not drown it out, followed by the burning halves of the ship.
A marauder's cry of horror was silenced as the throne landed on him. Swords burst and jerked from their alcoves. From the wreckage a huge slab of metal slid forward to clatter at the Wolf's feet, but the Wolf had eyes only for Drogon.
"YOU STUPID FUCKING LIZARD DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT COST ME!?"
The Wolf surged forward, his sword smashing into Drogon's snout and cutting deep. Drogon emitted a squeal of pain, and another as the Wolf's weapon struck again. The dragon lunged, his maw closing on the Wolf's shoulder, but the giant was undeterred, balling his fist and smashing it into the dragon's teeth. The barbarian's face was a mask of hatred as terrifying as Drogon's.
Squealing again, Drogon pulled back, fire erupting from his throat. The Wolf picked up his shield and crouched behind it as the wave of fire struck. The metal made plinking sounds once the heat died away, the red-skinned Wolf lunging forward as Daenerys stepped in front of Drogon.
"You will not harm my child!"
"Piss off, girl, my quarrel's not with you!"
Jon drew his sword and stepped between the Wolf and Daenerys. Despite a voice in his head screaming that he was about to die, he stood firm.
To Jon's undisguised surprise, the Wolf sidestepped around them instead of cleaving through him, utterly focused on the dragon.
"Come here you two-legged freak!"
The sword smashed against Drogon's chest scales, but left no mark. Drogon's head swept sideways, shoving the barbarian aside. The Wolf regained his balance but dropped his shield, which skidded several feet away. Drogon's head dropped, fire leaking from his teeth.
Jon grabbed Daenerys' arm and pulled her back. The Wolf lunged forward, sword held low.
"For CHAAAAOOOOSSSSSSS!"
"NO!"
Panic surged across Daenerys' face, and she wrenched herself free from Jon's grasp.
The Wolf's sword sent a shower of sparks as he swung it upwards, just as Daenerys threw herself between the Wolf and Drogon. She made a gurgling sound as the blade slashed across her stomach, and fell to the ground.
Jon dropped his sword in sheer shock. The sounds of battle seemed to come from a thousand miles away as he stared at Daenerys' prone, twitching body. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. This was not happening. This was a nightmare.
Drogon let out an ear-piercing screech and bulled forward, a wing sweeping out and smashing the Wolf aside. Then the dragon grasped Daenerys in his claw and leaped off the Red Keep.
The Wolf's men were bellowing in pain, those still able to move trying to extinguish those on fire. Others were too far gone for any help, and their screams ended abruptly as their comrades slit their throats. One man had been trapped underneath the Iron Throne when it fell, splattering his torso beneath its weight. He made no sound, but his limbs twitched spasmodically. Insects and rats swarmed out of his body.
"GET! BACK HERE!"
The Wolf had extricated himself from the pillar where Drogon's blow had sent him. He stood on the ledge and let out several roars exactly like the dragon's.
The Wolf's furious bellowing snapped Jon out of his spell. He picked up his sword, but as the echoes died away, Jon saw the barbarian grin. Still he did not look at Jon but downwards.
Moving as close to the drop as he dared, Jon peered down. Drogon was still plummeting, but his wings were open, and he quickly turned around, now powering his way back up.
Jon looked up. The barbarian was distracted, but Jon was uncertain that even a surprise blow could kill the Wolf. As if to confirm it, the Wolf's voice rang out, still looking down.
"Might want to stand back, Chosen-slayer! He won't care who he melts!"
The Wolf had retrieved his shield and stood on the edge. His surviving men seemed to call out to him, but his eyes were fixed on the dragon rising below. His mouth opened and issued a few more draconic noises, shield covering his front, sword ready to stab.
Closer and closer the dragon came. Jon saw a flash near Drogon's mouth and swiftly stepped backwards. He saw the Wolf disappear as the wave of fire engulfed the barbarian. A dark shape fell back from the wall of flame, and still standing, the Wolf thrust his sword forward. Drogon's tail lashed out as he flew up and over the Wolf, screeching as the swordpoint punched through his scales.
The dragon landed awkwardly on a single leg, still clutching Daenerys in the other, flaring his wings out to regain balance and turning around. The Wolf advanced still, although Jon suppressed a shudder at the sight. Whatever sorceries the giant's shield and armor contained had spared him dying instantly from the dragon's breath, but his hair and beard were now glowing embers, his face raw and red.
Drogon screeched again as the Wolf's sword bit into its scales, then lashed out, his jaws snapping shut on the Wolf's sword-arm. The Wolf was still making draconic noises that turned into a bellow of pain. The dragon and the barbarian's eyes were inches from each other.
Jon heard metal snap and a crunch, Drogon shaking his head like a dog worrying a bone. The Wolf's body was thrown to and fro like a ragdoll, but he punched his shield into the dragon's eye. Drogon screeched and released his grip. Jon saw the Wolf drop to the ground, blood flowing freely through the rents in his armor. He saw the barbarian give a half-shrug, then look at his ruined arm with a mixture of fear and contempt.
Drogon had recovered from the blow to his eye, and swung his head in a short arc. Taken completely unawares, the Wolf was sent flying into one of the remaining walls. The top of the wall crumbled and a block of masonry toppled onto his chest. The barbarian's limbs jerked up and were still.
Drogon did not even look at his foe but pushed himself into the air and flapped off, Daenerys still in his claws.
Jon looked over to the Seafang's crew. They were looking at each other, evidently at a loss for what to do at the defeat of their leader.
There was a bestial snarl. The Wolf roared and shoved the stone block off of himself with his good arm. Jon could see a huge dent in his black armor, pulverized skulls cascading off as he pushed himself back up, one arm dangling limply.
In utter disbelief, Jon saw the Wolf stand and immediately stumble back towards the ledge, still bellowing out challenges. But whatever skill he undeniably had for starting fights, one look at the barbarian's face was enough to tell Jon that it had failed.
Jon looked up again. Drogon was gaining height now, flying eastward at high speed. The Wolf watched him go, muttering something Jon could not understand, then turned around.
Of the Wolf's ship and crew, only the figurehead and half a dozen men remained unburned or even able to stand. The wooden prow still moved sluggishly, whining like a wounded dog. One of the survivors pointed at the figurehead, appearing to ask his leader a question. The Wolf punched him to the ground.
"það er of lítið!"
Without a word, the Wolf went to the figurehead and hoisted it over his shoulder with his good arm, then barked out orders at the crew, who quickly lined up behind him. As they passed Jon, one pointed at him. The Wolf shrugged bad-temperedly and said something, wincing visibly as his wounded arm moved. Without warning, the marauder punched Jon in the gut, and as he was still wheezing, punched him in the jaw. Darkness fell over Jon as he felt himself being lifted over the man's shoulder.
Jon came to, awoken by the jostling in his stomach and a pulsing ache in his jaw. The marauders were running down the corridors of the Red Keep, turning every once in a while. Surprised servants who did not get out of the way in time were trampled underfoot, locked doors were punched open or had their hinges hacked out.
By twisting his head around, Jon was able to see where they were going. He soon realized they were crossing the same doors. Then it struck him. The barbarians were lost in the maze of corridors and stairs that was the Red Keep. Occasionally one marauder said something, only to be answered with a furious snarl from the Wolf.
The marauders slowed again as they came to a cross-corridor. Jon knew he had to act. Fortunately his limbs had been left unbound and his sword returned to its sheath, presumably for the marauder's convenience in looting it. He fumbled around for his blade as it dangled upside down on his belt, drew it, and jabbed it through the marauder's spine without hesitation.
The man collapsed instantly, his grip loosening. Jon rolled, pulled his sword free from the man's back and was running the other way before the body had finished falling. He heard the marauders shout behind him, but did not seem to pursue him.
Knowing the keep's layout, it was a matter of moments before he was at one of the gates, where he ran headlong into Grey Worm.
"Gah! What is-"
"The Wolf! Block the exits, hurry!"
Grey Worm snapped around at one of the Unsullied behind him, who drew a warhorn and blew on it. Once its echoes died away, others were heard in the distance, relaying the order.
"Is the Queen safe? You did not leave her alone with him!?"
"She is..."
Jon 's hesitation was clearly enough for Grey Worm, whose face stiffened.
"He dies today. No matter the cost."
To this Jon nodded.
Jon and Grey Worm waited as squads of Unsullied poured into the Red Keep, alerted by the horn blasts. Grey Worm gave further orders. Every door that led outside was guarded by Unsullied from within and a dozen mounted bloodriders without. Then he told others to comb the inside of the fortress and sound a horn once the murderers were found. The iron porticullis descended slowly in a clanking of chains, echoed by the same precautions at the other gates.
Every way blocked to the fugitives, Grey Worm turned back to Jon.
"Where?"
"Eastern walls, but they were on the run. I don't know where they are now."
"How many?"
"There's five, now, and him. They have no-"
Jon stopped himself. The Wolf carried enough swords on himself to sink a small boat.
"Most have no weapons, only the Wolf has armor. They're lost in the Keep, but they're trying to flee."
Grey Worm yelled at the patrol of Unsullied behind him, who split up and ran in different directions.
"Lead us."
Jon turned back the way he'd come, bloodied sword still in hand.
"They kept going in circles. We'll start from the east."
"Wait- this is where I escaped."
The corridor was empty, but a trail of smeared blood led to a side room. Grey Worm slammed the door open and rushed in.
The wounded marauder had managed to drag himself to a corner and sit up against the wall. With shaking hands, he tried to pull his dagger from its sheath, but Grey Worm stepped in lithely, jabbing his sword through the marauder's throat. The man died without a blade in his hand.
A horn sounded somewhere in the keep. The squad hurriedly moved towards it. As they came to a crossway, Jon cautiously looked around.
"Can't be far fro-"
Jon stopped suddenly. The corpses of two Unsullied littered the ground, one cleaved almost in half. Another horn sounded, this one much closer, and another blast just after.
"Hurry!"
They ran towards the southeastern battlements, where the waters of the Blackwater River flowed into the bay, lapping at the walls of King's Landing.
There they found the Wolf's remaining men with their backs to the window. They were trapped between two shieldwalls of emotionless Unsullied, though certainly not defeated. The Wolf was not attacking, holding his ship's prow like a religious fanatic holding onto a sacred icon.
One of the marauders had already fallen, the broken bodies of two Unsullied at the corpse's feet, the berserker's teeth locked into a third man's throat.
Another marauder whose skin was covered in tattoos took a spear to the belly. Roaring, he grabbed the Unsullied's hand, pinning it to the spearhaft and impaled himself deeper on it, striking the eunuch's head with his free hand even as the other Unsullied drove their spears into the madman's body, killing him at last.
A third marauder lifted an Unsullied with both hands, heedless of the spearheads punching into his ribs. He smashed the man's head into the wall where the Unsullied's skull burst like an overripe fruit, falling only once Jon decapitated him.
The spears of the Unsullied closing in, Jon saw the Wolf look behind him and snarl. The barbarian crouched slightly, wincing as he put the figurehead in the crook of his broken arm, then swept out with the other, hooking his elbow around the remaining two marauders' necks. Then he kicked back and fell backwards through the window, dragging his henchmen with him.
Jon and Grey Worm rushed to the window. Already the Wolf and his men were too small to tell apart, and even the splash they made on hitting the water was barely visible. They kept looking, straining their eyes to see them breaking the surface, but nothing came up. There was a burst of bubbles, but these too faded away in the surf.
Jon released a sigh, as though a crushing weight had been lifted from him.
"I'll get Davos to drag nets through there. Although, with that armor he wore I doubt he'll catch anything."
Grey Worm barked an order at an Unsullied, who ran off. He looked at Jon.
"First we see to the Queen."
Jon shook his head.
"She's gone."
"Gone? But you said-"
"She got between him and Drogon, and Drogon took off with her when-"
"Jon? What's happening? Why are the horns being sounded?"
Tyrion goggled at the disheveled spectacle before him.
"And what the hell happened to you?"
"Your precious friend the Wolf betrayed us after all is what happened."
"My friend!? He is not my fr- betrayed? How?"
"He killed Daenerys."
Tyrion grabbed the wall for support. Daenerys dead?! Impossible.
Jon saw Tyrion starting to collapse and pulled him up. Best to start from the beginning.
"I found him in the throne room."
Tyrion looked thunderstruck, Grey Worm furious.
"What was he doing there!? Who let him in?"
"No one. He really did have a flying ship, right where the roof used to be. As to what he was doing..."
Jon laughed, nervously at first, then in great uncontrolled sobs as the sheer incongruity of the entire story struck him. Grey Worm looked at him with impatience, Tyrion with unease.
"He was stealing the Iron Throne."
Grey Worm spat. Tyrion looked horrified.
"An usurper all along."
"No. Steal it, literally. He had the damn thing on chains and halfway up to his ship when I found him. Then Daenerys came in, ordered Drogon up. Drogon set his ship aflame, they fought, and she was cut down in the brawl. Drogon picked her up and flew off, but then... the Wolf managed to call Drogon back somehow. But not for long.'
Other Unsullied had stopped and stared, spellbound by Jon's story.
"Drogon attacked him, he lost again, and when Drogon flew off it was for good. The Wolf survived somehow, grabbed what was left of his ship, and that's when I got away and ran into you."
Tyrion turned to Grey Worm. He did not even have to ask for the Unsullied to speak up.
"We managed to kill off most of his men before we trapped him. Then he jumped out this window. We watched him sink."
There was complete silence as Tyrion hauled himself up on the windowsill. The waves beat sedately against the seawall as they always had. There was no sign of the barbarian. Jon sighed.
"Let's go, there's bodies to clear away as well."
Once in the throne room, Grey Worm was forced to admit there was no other way a man's body could have found itself under the throne save for being lifted and dropped on him. Several soldiers from Winterfell and Lannister guards had joined the search, and gaped shamelessly at the sight.
The throne's hard landing had dislodged blades from their places. Now one sword jabbed straight upwards from the seat, while others erupted at odd angles from the back. The Iron Throne could now only be used to impale anyone sitting on it ten times over. Tyrion heard on irreverent soldier snigger that only Renly could have sat on it.
With all the efforts of their men combined they could not move it. Grey Worm ordered the bodies cleared away, Tyrion hastily adding that they wear gloves and facecloths as he saw the vermin emerging from the corpse. He still remembered the monstrous Crow Brothers at Winterfell.
Scorch marks and half-burned bodies littered the room. The Wolf's sword and shield, which two men would have struggled to lift, lay abandoned on the floor.
"He was in here the other day, staring at it."
Tyrion looked at the throne.
"He said... he said he looked on it as an artifact. I actually asked him, but he said he wasn't interested in ruling."
"And you believed him."
There was a world of contempt in Grey Worm's voice. But Jon shook his head.
"I think... I think he might have been sincere. He said he was removing it for Daenerys' benefit."
"He what? How the hell did he hope to make her swallow that!?"
"He seemed... confused that she would consider it a betrayal. Then she called Drogon, and they fought, and..."
Jon frowned.
"He told her to get out of the way. He only struck her down because she stood between him and Drogon. He could have gone through me and her to get to Drogon, but went around. I think he really did have no intention of harming her."
"He did tell me he saw her as a warlord worth following. Even after she refused to let him kill the Lannisters."
Jon and Grey Worm traded a silent yet eloquent glance.
"And after that, that he wanted to train the Lannisters for when she'd set out to conquer the world."
"But then why all this? Why now?"
No one answered. Finally Tyrion spoke up.
"What happens now?"
Jon shrugged.
"I don't know. But the dream has ended."
All three men looked at the throne, the throne they had fought for so long and so hard to bring into the reach of their queen, friend and lover, now a silent mockery of all her ambitions.