A/N:

Hey peeps!

Guest, to your question-there'll be an answer in that chapter :)

Enjoy your reading~

The land was beautiful. Rivers and small springs filled the lightly snow-covered valley and forests. Diana was happy to find fresh and green grass beneath the white, cold covers.

We camped on a gigantic lake's shore, about four miles west from a burnt and broken huge castle. Tyrion told me its name is Harrenhal, and he told me the stories of this place. "It is said it's a cursed, haunted castle. Too big to take care of, too. Every House that was given Harrenhal and its lands ended in a tragic way. Well, its first residants-Harren the Black and his sons-all died inside, cooked in the flames of Balerion the Dread. I believe our Queen's own Drogon is almost his size."

Even with the snow outside, the superstitious Dothraki wouldn't enter the grounds of the castle. They have heard enough, and they said that one look at the blackened molten stones and the lingering misshaped towers were a big warning sign of spirits and ghosts.

I didn't really mind. The huge castle wasn't very inviting anyway.

My tent and equipment were already packed and I had some breakfast, sitting on a log and watching the sun hit the water of the huge lake. God's Eye, they called it, because it had an island in it that made it look like a big blue eye on a map.

"Are you ready to ride, Princess of Beans?" I heard a voice and frowned in annoyance.

I'm not sure when Johqu started to call me that. Probably after he offered me a bite of the rabbit he caught and roasted on the fire a few days ago. I tried to explain to him I don't eat meat, not when I have other options like that nice beans stew, and since then he found it amusing. He said it will make me weak. I stomped on his foot and ask if that feels weak to him.

He said yes.

"I don't know who that princess is, but she's definitely not here." I said with irritation. Johqu had a playful smile anyways, and my irritation seemed to amuse him. I stood up and looked at the camp. I mean, it used to be a camp. Now most of it was packed up.

Well, if the handsome-yet-annoying-guy is not going to leave me alone, I should at least make a conversation out of it.

"So," I started, "how come your English… I mean, Common Tongue is so well spoken?" He only had a faint accent, not like the other common-tongue-speaking Dothraki, who had a very thick accent at best. Some of them managed to communicate using only a few words and hand gestures.

Johqu smirked again. "My mother was sold to marry a Khal, and she was a strong-willed woman. She wasn't a Dothraki. She was a daughter of a Westerosi drunk ex-slaver, and he was the one to sell her. She taught me her mother's tongue and gave me to the Khal later than it is usual to give the kids away." He looked proud of her.

No wonder he looked a bit different than the others. I wonder if they gave him a hard time for being different in coloring, size and origin. I remembered I was told they cut their hair in defeat-and it didn't seem like his hair was cut in a long time. I believe he proved himself worthy to others, a bloodrider for the Khal of Khals-or in that case, Khaleesi of Khals.

"Why did you follow Daenerys so far?" I asked in wonder.

"The Khaleesi is the mother of dragons, the stallions who will mount the world. She had defeated all the Khals and walked alive out of the burning Dosh Khaleen. She is blood of my blood, and I will go wherever she commands me to go, and die for her in battle."

So that's the kind of layolty Daenerys is looking for, I guess. "But she's a woman." I said, testing him.

"And she was worthy of leading all of the Dothraki-all of the Khalasars together, more than any Khal from the beginning of time." He insisted. "The Khaleesi showed us different ways to live by. We used to take the women we pleased without a question, or kill without a first thought. Daenerys Stormborn showed us a different way."

I took a step back. "You used to rape women?" I felt repelled and reached for my gun. I hate rapists, more then any other type of criminals. Rapists, child molesters, abusive parents-all of that bunch.

Johqu didn't startle, but I saw a glimpse of doubt in his eyes. "No," he said and looked beyond my shoulder, then a smirk appeared on his face. "I never had to."

I looked behind me and saw a serving girl, maybe eighteen, staring at him. When she saw us look back, she blushed hotly and went back to load things to a wagon. I looked back at him. Well, the fact that the Dothraki preferred wearing clothing that showed their muscles even in the snow, didn't help either me or the serving girl.

I gave Johqu a sharp look. He only seemed smugger. Now I saw we were standing quite close to each other. I pressed my lip and shoved a finger at his lean, well-designed chest. Damn it. "Don't. You. Dare. Trying. Me." I warned him and walked away.

"Always love to have a challenge, Bean."

After one more week of riding, we exited the Riverlands, and entered the Kingsland. Most villages on the way were friendly, but as we went south the looks began to be puzzled. Some even hostile.

"We shall reach King's landing in a two-days ride." Tyrion said from next to me as we were riding. "It is a big city," he added. "Holds a million heads in it, at least. Not all of them are sober. Or functioning."

I chuckled in amusement. "I guess that's lots of people here." I commented and bit into an apple. There were some apples in a farm we passed. We arrived just in time to help the poor farmer. Whose heavy wagon fell on him while trying to pull his ox out of the mud. His children were too young and his wife not strong enough, and the family couldn't help. But the strong Dothraki did. Three Dothraki men, who gained scared looks from the wife and the children, and three Westerosi soldiers came in help. I knew I wouldn't be much of a change, but I joined in anyways, the Hound at my side ad we all pushed the wagon off the farmer. It was harder than we thought, because the mud was thick and sticky and the wagon was heavier than it seemed, even when empty.

One of the healers tended him and for his gratitude he gave us a wagon of apples.

Tyrion smiled and shook his hands, "It will help us even more if you will spread the story," He said, "So people will know that you are in the good and kind hand of Daenerys Targaryen. Just as we speak, she is fighting a great war in the north to protect us. The Walkers are back, but we are hoping they will not reach the Twins." The farmer nodded, still grateful.

"I hope they won't think we did it just to make Daenerys look good." I said while we rode together. Tyrion smiled.

"No worries. The smallfolk want rain and security. Well, rain they get from the skies and now security is back for the lands since the war is almost over. The small war, I mean. They support whoever may keep it that way. Soon they will be praying for sun, but for now, they're happy more than they have been for a long time. The wounded lands, torn by the wars of kings, have time to heal."

"What about the villages to the south? The ones Cersei's men are assaulting?"

Tyrion smiled, "We are working on that too, aren't we?"

I nodded. It reminded me that our long, long journey is not going to end in King's Landing.

I wondered what Jon is doing, and hoped he's alive. I knew he's probably fighting. Testing the power of the flamethrowers. Daenerys, I guess, is burning the wights by the dozens or even hundreds.

It was a bit warmer down here. I didn't need the heavy cloak at all, and I wore comfy breaches and a long jacket. I only had a lighter brownish cape with a hood.

I was glad for the sun, and the few clouds in the sky. I felt the freezing winds from up north ones in a while, but I didn't want to think about the weather right now.

"My brother is upset we didn't tell him about any of it." Tyrion said, "He wanted to join down south, to at least escort me… and then find Cersei by himself. Queen Daenerys will not allow that. He is needed in the north."

"Many people are needed there." I said, "Jaime can relax. And so can you. Even if Cersei will give birth only after arriving to Winterfell, Daenerys is not going to harm the baby."

"How do you know that?" Tyrion asked.

"I just asked her." I shrugged. Tyrion was a bit surprised. "What?" I asked.

Tyrion looked worried. "What did you exactly ask her? What words did you use to form you question?"

I looked at him, confused. "I asked her what will she do with an enemy's child."

"And 'enemy's' child?"

"Yes."

Tyrion sighed and rode closer to me. "Andie, your heart is good. But Cersei is not just any enemy. Daenerys was sure to spare her child before she turned on her and Jon and broke their pact to draw from fighting each other and fight together the Walkers. She had betrayed her badly, not just her-the people of this land, from the highest lord to the lowest smallfolk." He looked forward with some kind of sadness. "My sweet sister is a queen in some people's eyes. And her child will be heir in the same people's eyes if Cersei dies. It's not just any enemy, it's a threat to Daenerys own unborn babe."

My eyes widen in shock and the breath stopped in my lungs. I can't believe it. Daenerys maybe liked the words 'Fire and Blood' too much, but I can't believe she can… "So you're saying…" I said in a very low voice.

"Yes, Andie. That is why I came to you and asked that if the child will be born, you will find it a home. And better tell Cersei and everyone it died. Maybe that is how you will avoid burning alive."

My heart raced as I looked forward. Oh, shit. Oh, SHIT. Did Daenerys understand I was referring to Cersei? Probably. Did she show me her kinder side to avoid answering the actual question? I guess so. I started to get annoyed, then mad, then my blood became hotter as I though about it. Cersei is going to die. Daenerys can choose who will raise the kid. He or she will not know who their parents were. The world doesn't have to know that. Find trustworthy enough people, and everything should be fine.

I pressed my lips and decided I am going to talk with Daeneys about it the moment we arrive back to Winterfell. And I don't care for any dragon or whatever. I don't like being manipulated like that.

"Andie, you have to understand," Tyrion said, probably sensing my mood. "Daenerys is with child, she's not even thinking as a queen on that matter. She thinks as a mother."

I looked at Tyrion, and my blood cooled down. It made sense. A mother's protective instinct is stronger than a leader's calm strategy. At least I hoped so, when it came to Daenerys-Jon's queen, lover and the mother of his child.

I looked behind my shoulder, north. It's been more than a month since I got here. I'm losing hope of finding a way back home.

Zee didn't call again. I turned off my phone when it reached twenty present, in case I will need it for whatever reason, and I though she might contact Bran again. But not a word from him either. I also got used to living here-the baths, that powder they use to clean their teeth with. I was lucky to be a part of the elite, have food and protection. I just missed my friends, and I missed my cat.

I did my best to not think of home, and not think of Jon, that still annoyed me a bit, even though we parted on half-hearted good terms.

What is going on up there? Please, please don't be dead when I come back.

/Jon/

His frosty breath looked almost like smoke as they passed the bridge over the half-frozen lake. Jon heard a cry of a dragon and looked up. Both Rhaegal and Drogon were flying the sick, the elderly and the babes of the town to the camp they sat away from there, a place to gather everyone before heading to Winterfell, that was a long ride away. It took them three trips already, and that was the forth. Daenerys was riding Drogon and Rhaegal followed. Jon wondered why the green wouldn't come to him again. He was shier than Drogon, and Daenerys told him how close he was to Viserion. Rhaegal and Drogon were mourning just like her when their brother was shot dead by the Night King.

The though of him made Jon's stomach fill with hate, and it also made him sick, and cold to the bone. How is he going to kill him? He was the key, of course. Kill the Night King-kill everything he had created. Can it be a Valyrian steel? Will his sword be enough as it is? And if it is, how will he even get close enough to strike him? And if not, whet else can they try to kill him?

They were evacuating the villages, one by one. It wasn't enough. The north was large and vast, and the villages and towns leagues apart from each other. Word came that the Walkers took villages, heading in both directions-south at east, and south to the west. It worried Jon. They had to do something about them soon.

Behind him nine-hundred civilians walked or rode. They were the ones capable to walk-but not all of them were capable to fight. Youth, untrained farmers and housewives, and proud old man who will not ride a dragon, or will not coward from the cold or Walkers. They weren't fast enough, and they weren't safe.

Ghost padded beside him, silent as always. It was silent. The wind had stopped, and the only sounds Jon heard was of the people walking behind him. His men were surrounding the people-soldiers from different armies. Glovers at the back, Unsullied at the front, and Dothraki strolling along the group, back and forth, making sure nobody goes astray.

The dragons were back and flew to the village again, but Jon wasn't expecting them to return so quickly. He saw Drogon batting his wings and landing before him. Daenerys slid down his wing fast, as he gave a cry.

"They're there." She said, panting. "They got the town. Everyone that was there… dead. Turned."

Jon's eyes widen as he processed the information. "The bridge. We have to destroy it." He said and turned his horse. It was a stone bridge! How will they burn it? They will have to use both the dragons' fires, but he still wasn't sure it will fall. Maybe they can strike it with their tails?

"Grey Worm!" Daenerys called. "Lead these people to safety."

"Queen Daenerys," He said in his stiff accent. "I cannot let you go to battle on your own. Let us come with you."

Then Daenerys spoke softly to him in Valyrian, and he nodded. She turned to the people. "Listen to me!" She called. "You shall follow my general to safety. Do as he say. Sadly, I need you to walk faster! Tell so to the people behind you. You are going to be safe!"

She gained puzzled looks from the crowd. The leaders of the village turned to Jon.

"You heard your queen!" He called. "Hurry up and follow the Unsullied!"

And then he bolted with his horse back to the bridge. How long a ride was that? Ten minutes, walking. Jon heard the wings of a dragon above him as Daenerys and her dragons flew low above him. She yelled n Dothraki and some of the man joined him. They gained looks from the smallfolk who got out of the way while the word from their peers came and they walked faster, some of them even started to run.

The sound of still and scream came into his ears. The hated music of war.

They passed the bridge, he thought grimly. There were two people with blow torches at the back, and they did their best, Jon saw their flames float in the air. "The bridge!" He shouted as he spotted the bridge, full of wights who spilled out of it like rushing waters. "We must destroy it!" But he barely heard himself. He could see the bodies, mostly of civilians, splayed on the ground. Jon drew Longclaw and jumped off his horse. Ghost was also fighting. He big the wights and killed them. Jon guessed magic kills magic, and Ghost was quite different than a regular wolf.

A soldier fell next to him. Jon ran and slashed at each wight he could on his way to the bridge. Then a strong light and heat hit his face as Drogon breathed a column of fire at the bridge. Then another, as Rhaegal did the same from the other side. The wights turned into ashes, but there were more that kept coming. The fire made the stones of the bridge low red with heat. The dragons breathed fire again.

Jon looked at the bridge and saw it was mainly held by the stone in its middle. There was already a crack there, and the flames helped it open, but it wasn't enough.

He took a big breath, and then he ran.

Jon wasn't sure what was going through his mind as the battle kept happening behind him, and was coming in front of him. Another group of wights burnet in a wave of flames. The bridge radiated heat, and it made him sweat, and it felt like the soles of his boots were melting.

He got to the middle stone, the one that held the bridge and knelt near the crack, his knees burning, but he did not pay attention to it. He could feel Daenerys stare from above him as another wave of fire burned the wights. The river was now completely molten with the heat, he saw. It will take at least a fortnight for it to freeze again, and Winterfell was far.

Jon drew out a dagger-a black steel, flat, wide and a bit thick dagger. He shoved it into the crack and found a stone to hammer it in. Bang, bang, bang, crack. Bang, bang, bang, crack. It started to work. Now, with a strong enough blast of fire, or a strike of Drogon's tail-or both-Jon hoped the bridge will fall. "Burn the bridge!" He yelled to Daenerys and he rose to his feet, two steaming holes in his breaches above his knees. "Burn the bridge!" He hoped she heard him, because he started to run back to the fighting army to help. He slashed his sword at a wight, and held another in his hand for a Dothraki to shove a dragonglass dagger into him. Then his killed another wight and tried to save a soldier from the claws of three others. He felt the heat of fire at his back as the dragons burned the bridge. It was barely standing now. Another stroke of fire, another hot breath, and then finally Drogon flew lower and hit the damn bridge with his tale.

Stones were flying all around them, and Jon jumped to the floor and covered his head as the rain of dust, rocks, ice and snow stopped. There were only a few more wights around. Jon fought and killed, and then felt to freezing, bony hand behind him, chocking him. He kicked and shook but the wight won't go. It didn't let go until a vicious sound of ripping as heard and Jon was pushed to the ground, only to see Ghost lingering above a maniac wight, ripping at its throat until it stopped moving.

There was silence again and Jon looked at the bodies around him. He stood back up and breathed heavily. They lost two hundred smallfolk. Almost the same amount in fighting men.

He heard two dragons land behind him and sighed. Daenerys little gloved hand laid on his shoulder gently. "We should burn them." He said with a heavy heart. Only now he noticed the blisters on his knees and felt then burns on his feet. His throat was aching, and there was a nasty cut at his left arm. Ghost came over and licked the blood away.

"Yes." Daenerys agreed and he heard the pain in her voice. "We must."

The remaining soldiers and Jon gathered the bodies together. They didn't have the time to make a pyre or dig a grave. They rode away, but Jon stayed to look from afar as Drogon and Rhaegal burnt the dead bodies on the ground, as the cold, blue eyes of the Night King appeared in his mind, waiting, testing.

/

After he washed himself and was taken care by a maester, Jon stood at the walls of Winterfell-then spot where he said his goodbyes to Andie. How he missed her. She would cheer him up, or find something amusing to comment about. She will talk about the dragons, or the weather, or the icy zombies, and she will fight with him again for not letting her join the fight.

But he can't. He can't let her go out there, and risk herself for people and land that are not even there. If anything will happen to her kitten-like smile…

Jon was sick of losing good people. It happened too much. He gritted his teeth and griped the railing, brooding as always. It was enough that Daenerys was out there. At least she sent Andie south… Jon believed it safer than the north, at least. And for half the journey she will have Tyrion as company, and that's never a bad thing.

"It's getting late," He heard his sister behind him. He turned to meet Sansa's blue-grey gaze. "You should come for supper."

She herself was busy these days more than he thought she should be, but who's better at this job than Sansa? She was wonderful in managing the castle, the supplies, the commoners. Jon was grateful for her, and for Arya that was her protection and her right-hand woman.

"I'm not hungry." He said. They didn't rest at the camp as they planned. They kept walking and riding, and stopped only past midnight. At dawn they moved again, until they arrived Winterfell fur days after the fight. Everyone was exhausted, and they lost old people and children to the cold.

Yet Jon didn't miss his bed, nor the good food from the kitchens, nor the warm hearth. He couldn't think of anything but the war and the safety of those he loved.

Sansa leaned on the wall on her side and gave a glance to the horizon. "You have to eat." She stated. "We can't risk you being sick or weak. You are the King in the North. You are… you are the one the north looks up to."

Jon remembered the looks he got from the town's people when Daenerys ordered them to follow Grey Worm. Even with her helping them and being their queen, their turned to him for confirmation. Northerners are a hard, stubborn breed. Their a stark breed.

Still, Jon didn't have any appetite. "I'll be fine one night without eating. I've been starving for longer than that."

His sister crossed her arms across her chest. "What is it?" She asked.

"What is it not, will be a better question." Jon smiled bitterly. "The war, for instance."

Sansa sighed. "Yes, the war." She looked him up and down. "We've been warring for a long time. It didn't prevent you from having supper."

Jon looked away from his sister. Should he ask her for advice? It doesn't look like she's about to leave him anytime soon.

"Do you think Ii should marry Daenerys?" He asked.

His question made Sansa almost jump in her place in surprise. Then, so recollected herself. "Of all of the people you could ask that, you chose me? Me, who use to dream of marrying Joffrey? Me, who was forced to marry twice, one to a man hideous in the outside but kind and gentle, and the second to… well, you've met him." Her voice turned into ice at the end of her sentence. Joffrey was a far memory, but that… bastard… that monster… that repelling man, Ramsay, was still haunting her in her sleep. Jon hated that man in every bit of his body, and he would punch him again and again, and more, but it was Sansa's right for revenge, not his.

"I'm asking you because you are my sister," Jon said, "And you're not as impulsive as Arya and I are." And Bran was not much of an option. Maybe he should ask Sam about that… even though, since learning of his father and brother's execution, Sam was avoiding him and especially Daenerys. He was hurt and angry, but since he was a gentle man and Jon's best friend-he did not want to cause much problem, and stayed mostly in the library, searching for more information about the White Walkers.

Sansa looked around the walls and towers of Winterfell. "And do you ask me as your sister, or as the Lady of Winterfell?"

"You are both."

Sansa rolled her eyes at him, "You know what I mean by that."

"I asked both of 'them'." He insisted. Sansa sighed.

"As the Lady of Winterfell, I will tell you that the only way the northerners will trust a southern ruler again is if she'll marry one of ours, and who's better than the King in the North?" She had a little smirk when she said the title-a title used only y the northerners. The rest called him Lord Snow, which used to be a mock in the Night's Watch and became his nickname there. Now people actually meant it as 'lord'. "Also, I know Daenerys is pregnant. Soon everyone will know. How long will it take until it will show? A month? Two? How many layers of clothing will hide it?" Sansa looked at her gloves, "The child should be a true-born, a valid heir for both of you. So the Lady of Winterfell says you should." She smiled almost playfully, but then turned serious again. "And as your sister, I will say… You love her, don't you. You know her for six months, maybe? But you love her. It's hard to find someone in a position so similar to yours. And she loves you. I can see it, she does." She laid her hand on his, "You're going to have a child together, and I know you, Jon-even if you didn't love the mother you will love that child more than anything in the world." She caught his glance. "So as your sister, I say… if you love her and she loves you, and if you find it right, then you should marry her. Maybe you will need to think over it."

Jon sighed and nodded. "Thank you, Sansa." He breathed out, still not hungry. Well, maybe just for dessert. He does deserve dessert.

/Andie/

After a long ride between villages, holdfasts and the occasional castle, King's Landing looked humongous even to me.

We stood on a hill above a valley, full of fields and groves and roads. There where farms scattered around, and the lightest snow-the kind that melts when it touches anything-was falling. Everything was muddy and the sky was grey, but on the other side of the valley there was a city. A damn city. It was so quiet here, but I already started to imagine loud people talking in different languages, smells of food and smoke and the noise of cars… wait, wrong place, wrong time.

This city looked like it was climbing up a hill, until it reached its end at a very spiky, red, giant castle. It looked like a Disney palace, if Disney went dark.

"The Red Keep," Tyrion said from his horse. "Your home for the next week, at least. You have to rest before the travel that awaits you."

I bit my lip and sighed. "A week, maybe." I said. "We have to find her; any day is another disadvantage." And also, I wanted to be done with it. The weather was nicer, yes. But I wanted to be back at Winterfell, with Arya, Ghost and… Well, I still missed Jon. Damn that bastard.

Also, I felt like I need to be there, Like there's something there for me.

Probably more snow. Urgh.

"Are you going to give me a tour 'round the city?" I asked."

Tyrion smirked, "Ooh, but the gossip people might have. 'The foreigner and the Imp, came to undress Westeros from its traditions."

I snorted in amusement. That would be funny.

"That shit of a city." I heard the Hound grunt behind us. "What are you waiting for? It's not going to get prettier at dark."

I snorted again. "Lots of cunts?"

"Many of 'em." Sandor answered grumpily and gave his horse a little kick to ride pass us.

"Let's go," Tyrion said, "A million people await us."

"Hm, million. That's a lot." It's an eighth of my home town, but million is a million no matter where you live.

I took in the view. It was a pretty city from far away. I didn't know if I want to see it from up-close.