Tyrion at the Wall. In this chapter, a new great divergence from the canon.
TYRION IX
Tyrion watched two lads fighting through the gap of the door. Though he never wielded a sword, Tyrion spent more than enough time reading about sword fighting and looking at his brother and other siblings practicing in the yards of both Casterly Rock and King's Landing to know enough about the best fighting techniques. One of the men was obviously better than the other one. He just waited for him to make the first strike, then launched a counter-attack he could do nothing against. Only this time, instead of breaking a nose or a fist, he just brought the sword at his throat. The two laughed and a third lad who watched them joined the laughing. Tyrion was too far to understand what Jon Snow said to the orphan and the cheese thief, but from the way they trained in the last days, it wasn't hard to guess he was giving them advice about how to fight. Their eyes met and Tyrion gave an approving look. We all have something to offer to the others. He closed the door, leaving the lad to his training and forging friendships.
"You've taken an interest in Lord Stark's son, my lord," an old voice said.
It came from a frail man, hairless and wrinkled, blind and older than any other person Tyrion had ever met. Even the Queen of Thorns couldn't compete with his age. Maester Aemon Targaryen was the eldest member of the Night's Watch. He served as maester of Castle Black for more than sixty years under a dozen of Lord Commanders of the Night's Watch and everyone here respected the man. When he spoke, everyone turned silent to listen to him. He was the entire opposite of Jeor Mormont who sat at his side at the high table, the two alone in the common hall with Tyrion. The Lord Commander was still a very strong man despite his advanced age and commanded as much respect as the old maester.
"I have some fondness for the lad, considering our shared origins," he said. Then he added before the perplexed expression of the Lord Commander, "Dwarves are always bastards to their family."
Mormont seemed to understand. "Jon Snow will make a nice addition to the Night's Watch. All we seem to receive these times are stableboys, sneak thieves and rapers. And the Westerlands sent us quite a lot since your father died."
"I've never been fond of death," Tyrion said, approaching the table. "Better to freeze your balls at the Wall than to die, though some I send here have no balls left."
"Sometimes I fear you do mock our noble purpose here, my lord."
"We all need to be mocked from time to time, Commander Mormont, lest we start to take ourselves too seriously. Do you think no one mocks me in the Westerlands, or even in my own castle? Believe me, I know very well my men make fun of me when they want, and they are much happier with it than when my father ruled. He didn't tolerate anyone to mock him."
"Your father was well respected," the former Lord of Bear Island politely said.
"A respected man, yes," Tyrion said, not without bitterness. Respected, but not loved. "Some would go as far as to call him a great man, even a just man, or a beloved one." Only fools would say the latter about the Old Lion.
"I never met Tywin Lannister, but if I could say if any Lannister was a great man, I would say you are, Lord Tyrion," the maester said.
"I've been called many things, maester, but a great man is seldom one of them."
"Nonetheless, I think it is true." He stared with his blind eyes at Tyrion.
Tyrion didn't really know what to say to that. "You are too kind, Maester Aemon."
The man who could have set aside his chains to become king smiled. "I have been called many things, my lord, but kind is seldom one of them."
The three laughed loudly. Tyrion sat before them and asked for more ale. The Lord Commander filled his horn and Tyrion drank it. It wasn't very good, but he didn't complain. The Night's Watch seemed to be in a poor state, and both wine and ale in the North were of poor quality. And he drank much worse stuff in his life.
"Are you certain you must leave tomorrow?" the Lord Commander asked him after a good swallow.
"I'm afraid I must. I already spent too much time in the North. I must return to Casterly Rock, and I can't let my wife linger alone at Winterfell any longer. She will start to think that I abandoned her to take the black."
He missed Margaery. These last weeks had been the first he spent away from her since they were wed, and so far they had only helped him to realize more than ever how much he deeply loved her. He was eager to see her back, to see her smile and her curly brown hair. It was also true he had extended his stay in the North more than he should have, but he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to visit the Wall. He may never have another chance in his life.
"And my brother too will worry the same," he continued. "Only my sister might find some solace in that. It would probably be the best news she had in years."
"Then I wish we could make the queen happy. You're a cunning man, my lord, and we have need of men like you here."
"I'm afraid they have need of me in the Westerlands as well." Although Tyrion had come to respect the men of the Night's Watch, he wouldn't abandon his life with Magaery at Casterly Rock for the Wall. He loved his life right now, and Cersei was a far greater danger for the Seven Kingdoms than the wildlings and all the imaginary creatures that supposedly populated the lands beyond the Wall. He had found a purpose to his life.
"Are you a man of duty, Lord Tyrion?"
The question from the maester surprised him. Tyrion never really asked himself this. He did his duty towards his family, towards his wife, towards the people he loved, and he tried to do his duty for the Westerlands as its lord paramount. "I suppose I am."
"Do you want to know what I think?"
"I don't see any reason why not?"
"I think you are a man who fights for the things he believes in." The maester had a gift to surprise him. "Tell me, my lord, how many winters have you seen?"
"Eight. No, nine."
"All of them brief?"
"They say the winter of my birth was three years long, Maester Aemon." Though his earliest memories were of spring. He never saw a long winter.
"This summer has lasted nine. But reports from the Citadel tell us the days grow shorter. The Starks are always right eventually. Winter is coming. This one will be long and dark things will come with it."
Tyrion listened attentively to the old man. He spoke with gravity, seriously, as someone who had seen more than any other living man. "We've been capturing wildlings, more every month," the Lord Commander said. "They're fleeing south. The ones who flee say they've seen the White Walkers. The fishermen near Eastwatch have glimpsed them on the shore."
"Yes, and the fishermen of Lannisport say they see mermaids."
Tyrion was used to those tales. He heard them more than enough through his time in the taverns and brothels of Lannisport. Sailors often came back from the sea with tales of how they saw mermaids, some going as far as saying they laid with one, or with many, to impress their friends over cups of ale, or a whore just before or while they fucked her. As if the girl would give any attention to their story. All she wanted was their coin, but again, Tyrion couldn't blame these men. He did the same than them once, making crude jokes that girls laughed at only to give him the impression he was funny. Sailors could spend months at sea without seeing a single woman, so he couldn't blame them for going to a whore and fantasize she found them extraordinary as soon as they touched land. For those who really believed they saw mermaids, their eyes could often trick them into seeing things they wanted to see.
"One of our own rangers swore he saw them kill his companions," Mormont resumed. "He swore it right up to the moment Ned Stark chopped his head off. I knew this ranger. He was at the Wall for very long. I would never have believed Ned Stark when he said he deserted if he hadn't sent us his head."
"The Night's Watch is the only thing standing between the Realm and what lies beyond," Maester Aemon declared. "And it has become an army of undisciplined boys and tired old men. There are less than a thousand of us now. We can't man the other castles on the Wall. We can't properly patrol the wilderness. We've barely enough resources to keep our lads armed and fed."
Tyrion knew where they were going with that. He expected it. The Wall seldom received visits from lords of the southern kingdoms. The last king or queen to visit it was Alysanne Targaryen more than two hundred years ago, and Tyrion suspected he was very likely the first lord paramount who wasn't a Stark to visit it in the whole century. He had seen the sorry state of the Watch.
"You are one of the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, my lord, and your sister sits by the side of the king. We need help," the Lord Commander begged. Tyrion had never seen Mormont so serious or desperate.
"When winter does come, gods help us all if we're not ready." The maester was deadly serious as well, and afraid.
Tyrion pitied them, and in the right way. Both had spent years of their life, maybe half of it, at the Wall, fighting against the wildlings, taking vows to protect the Realm from the dangers beyond the Wall. Mormont had joined the Night's Watch after his wife died, leaving his son Jorah to rule in his stead, but Jorah Mormont had been removed for selling thieves into slavery by Eddard Stark and fled to Essos to escape justice. Now Lady Maege Mormont, the Lord Commander's sister, ruled Bear Island. As for Maester Aemon, he refused the crown and went to Castle Black to let his younger brother, Aegon, become king. They had spent so many years here that Tyrion couldn't blame them for trying to give a sense to these years. Except for the rapers and the murderers, and even then, he had quite a lot of sympathy for those who ended at the Wall. They hadn't chosen this.
"I'll help you, I promise," Tyrion said. "And I will talk to my sister. And I thank you for your hospitality."
"Just helping us will be more than enough thanks," the former Lord of Bear Island replied.
Tyrion would help them. He would keep sending them as many men as he could by offering any criminal of any sort the choice to go to the Wall. He could send them food as well to survive through the coming winter. He had Casterly Rock and his bannermen stock enough food in prevision of the coming winter to send some to the Night's Watch. He could also send them steel, to forge weapons and armors. Better, he could send them already forged weapons. The blacksmiths of Lannisport and the Westerlands were renowned through all Westeros for the quality of their work. He could even send them gold, so they could buy what they needed. If the Lannisters didn't lack something, it was gold. However, he couldn't send them the military help they probably hoped for. He couldn't send his knights, his soldiers, his men to the Wall for a danger that didn't exist. And he would speak to Cersei, though he knew for certain that she would ask if he had taken leave of his senses. And if he dared to speak to Robert about it, he would just ignore him.
In the evening, Tyrion dined with all the officers of the Night's Watch at the high table. They ate crabs that had arrived from Eastwatch this morning in a barrel of snow. They were succulent and the mood was quite good. Tyrion japed with the other men, and when Ser Alliser defied him in duel for jokes he didn't like, Tyrion dueled him at the table with his crab fork, which made everyone in the common hall, from the recruits to the Lord Commander, laugh to death.
Leaving the common hall, he found himself in the cold of the night. His balls were really freezing. He would have to ask Margaery to warm them when he got back to Winterfell. He thought about the bed waiting for him in the King's Tower. It wasn't far. His wife, however, was far away. Strangely, he was sad to leave Castle Black in the morning. He didn't know why, but he was. He looked at the Wall. He was there. That was his last chance. That was probably the only worthy reason why he came here. He ordered half of his men to go to sleep. Five guards would be enough for tonight. They climbed into the winch cage and it brought them seven hundred feet up.
Tyrion asked to the two men in service when they stepped outside the cage where he was, and they indicated him the path west. His section began where a catapult that hadn't been repaired for quite some time stood abandoned. Tyrion knew the men guarding the Wall were assigned a particular mile and were instructed to walk along it back and forth, so he only needed to wait for him. In the meantime, Tyrion looked at the lands that stretched below him. In the dark of the night, they looked terrifying. Were wildlings lurking among the trees, waiting for the next patrol to leave the Wall so they could kill them as soon as they got out? Or were there other things hiding in these thick woods?
It's not the wildlings giving me sleepless nights. You've never been north of the Wall, so don't tell me what's out there. Benjen Stark's words came back to him. He was out there, somewhere. Right now, Tyrion felt these stories about White Walkers were true. When winter does come, gods help us all if we're not ready. The cold wind rose and almost made him fall on his back, but he could catch his feet in time. Winter was coming, for sure.
"Who goes there?" One of his men behind saw something, but he quickly put back his sword into the scabbard. Jon Snow walked past his guards. His men knew they could trust the bastard of Winterfell.
"I was hoping I would see you," Tyrion said.
"My lord, what are you doing up here?" Jon Snow looked much bigger in his dark furs and cloak of the Night's Watch.
"Looking from the top of the Wall one last time. Care to look with me?"
"No."
They stood there, just like the first day they arrived, looking at the empty wilderness. A wolf howled from far away. Jon Snow's direwolf was standing next to them as well. He was about to reach Tyrion's height. Soon the wolf would look down on him. The wolf who looks down on the lion.
"Getting along well with your sworn brothers? Well, they're not your sworn brothers yet, but things seem to be much better with them now."
"Aye, thanks to your help," Snow replied.
"Help? I only offered you words, Snow. You did all the work."
"Without your words about their heads on spikes, Grenn and Pyp would have killed me the first day. Maybe they were only words, but without them I would be dead."
They stayed silent for a moment. Tyrion looked at the bastard through and through. He had more of Eddard Stark in him than all his brothers and sisters. He may be a bastard, but he was more a Stark than any of his father's legitimate children. He remembered Kevan telling him a long time ago that his aunt believed he was his father's real son, and that Jaime was not. The same was true about Jon Snow and his siblings.
"I'm sorry to see you leave, my lord," the bastard said.
"It's either me or this cold, and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere. Are you sure you want to stay here?"
"I have a place at the Wall. There's no place for me anywhere else."
"I wouldn't say that so quickly if I were you."
"I can't go back to Winterfell," Snow said, brooding. "Robb will be Lord of Winterfell one day, our brothers will be his bannermen or his advisors, Sansa will be queen and Arya will marry a great lord."
"Arya Stark? I wish good luck to the man who will find himself with her."
They both chuckled, but the bastard's demeanour turned sour again quick enough. "I have no place at Winterfell. Even if Robb wanted of me, Lady Stark would never accept my presence. She made it very clear when I left. I want you to leave. These were her final words to me, as I said goodbye to Bran."
Tyrion sympathised with the boy. His own father certainly would have wished that he took the black as well. "You know, Snow, I never knew my mother, but the day my father died, he told me that the last thing she asked of him was to let me live. That was the only reason why he let me live. I lived thanks to this woman, and I never had the chance to know her." Tyrion saw Jon Snow looking at him with a clearly horrified expression. "Don't make that face, bastard. I told you. All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes. As miserable as you are, at least your father is a good man. The same cannot be said for mine. Your father is right to hate mine, and to hate the Lannisters. My family is not known for his kindness."
An awkward moment passed before Jon Snow said something else. "At least you saved my life. I suppose you're better than your father."
Tyrion shrugged. "Maybe, but my aunt used to say that I have more of my father in myself than my brother and my sister have."
"Then maybe there was some good in Tywin Lannister."
"Maybe." Again, Tyrion shrugged. "Though he never showed it to me." His uncle Gerion once told him all joy left his father the day his wife died. Maybe Tywin Lannister had been different before, when his lady wife was still alive, though Jaime and Cersei never told him anything that led him to believe it.
"Will you stop at Winterfell on your way south?" Jon asked.
"Of course, I will. I must pick my wife and the rest of my men there."
"If you see my brother Bran, tell him I miss him."
"Why don't you come with me and tell him yourself?"
"I can't go back to Winterfell."
"Well, I'm sure Lady Stark wouldn't complain too much if you were to stay only a day before heading south."
Jon Snow frowned at this. "South?"
It was time. That was why Tyrion seeked out the bastard. "The Wall is not the only place where you could go. Have you thought about the Westerlands? You could follow me and Margaery as we head back there."
"What would I do in the Westerlands?"
"Depends on what you want. I can offer you a place in my household. You can fight outlaws or pirates, serve in the City Watch of Lannisport as an officer. You could also eat, drink and fuck, we can do all that in the Westerlands as well. You could be knighted in time. I saw you fight in Winterfell and here. It wouldn't take you long." Tyrion was quite amused by the bewildered expression on Jon Snow's face. "You could even marry."
On that the bastard burst into a dry laugh. "Me? Marry? I'm a bastard. A Snow. Who would want to marry me, and what lord would like to marry his daughter to me?"
"You may be a bastard, but you're still the son of the Hand of the King. Your brother will be Lord of Winterfell one day and your sister will be queen. The lords will not marry their first daughter to you, true, especially the powerful ones, but they might consider you for their second, third or fourth daughters. They won't see it a bad thing to have the brother of a queen and a lord paramount as a son-in-law, no matter he's a bastard." Jon Snow was listening attentively to him, he could see that, more surprised every second. The lad didn't expect this. "Bastards can rise high, Snow. Two were Hand of the King before your father got the job, three if Orys Baratheon was Aegon's bastard half-brother. Bastards have been part of the Kingsguard, some even commanded it. Some tried to be king as well, but since they all failed I wouldn't suggest you this path."
"Why?" he said after a moment. "Why are you offering me this?"
Would you believe me if I said it was to give you a chance? Because I feel pity for you? "I'm always looking for men of talent. You're good, Snow. Better than your own brother in some aspects. I feel your gifts may be wasted at the Wall. And… our two families don't get along very well thanks to my father's habit to kill babies. I don't really wish for this to last any longer. To have you at Casterly Rock could be a step in the right direction."
The boy was speechless. Tyrion smiled at him and resumed to speak. "Well, that's your choice. We leave tomorrow at dawn. If you accept, come and join us. I just want to tell you one last thing. Once you've said your vows, you'll be bound to the Wall for the rest of your life. You will never marry, you will never have children, you will never owe anything, not even the clothes on your back. And you will spend your life guarding the Wall from threats that may not exist. I can't promise you will enjoy the Westerlands, but if you don't like it you can still come back here and take your vows. You won't have this possibility here. And personally, I'd like to see some of the world and have a life before I decide to freeze my balls for the rest of my life. Think about it. You have the night. You take care Snow."
He patted the lad's arm and walked away, leaving him to think about it. Ned Stark had refused to give his bastard son as a ward for Casterly Rock, but now he had nothing to say in Jon Snow's decision. His family had given up on him, let him go to the Wall. He was free to take his own decisions. Tyrion walked back with his men to the winched cage, but before they entered it, he stopped in his motion.
"Wait. I have something to do."
He walked to the border of the Wall, then opened his breeches and let a yellow liquid drop on the other side of the world. This was his last night at Castle Black, and he wouldn't leave without doing everything he came for. He couldn't wait to see Jaime's uncontrollable laughter when he would tell him this, or Cersei's annoyed face. His guards would have good stories to tell each other on the road. He went back to the cage and noticed some amused looks among his men, others that looked troubled by what they just witnessed. What would you think of me right now, Father?
The cage slowly moved down. Tyrion Lannister had stood taller than almost everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms a moment ago. Soon, he would be smaller than most men again. He thought of Margaery. She was taller than him, yet she always made him feel taller than he really was. He didn't feel taller than her though, just the same height. He never saw Margaery as someone he could dominate, but he felt like she was his equal, and he loved her. He could never consider himself over the woman he loved, the woman who changed his life and made him a happy man. He could trust her, confide in her, tell her everything that bothered him. Well, almost everything. He hadn't told her about Jaime and Cersei. How could he? She wouldn't understand. That was something to have a brother who spent his nights fucking other men, but incest was something entirely different. That was the one thing he could never tell her. He regretted that, but he couldn't tell her.
Castle Black was black as night. Only a few lights remained. He noticed one in his chamber during their descent. Ty had kept a fire lit. He was a good squire. Tyrion tried to imagine his father acting as a squire for a moment, but he couldn't. Tywin Frey may be named after his uncle, but that was the only common point between them. They arrived on the level of the ground and Tyrion went to the King's Tower while his men went to the barracks for the most part, except for the few who were on guard duty tonight. After he climbed the stairs and walked into his chamber, he found his squire reading near a candle. He stood up immediately.
"My lord." He came to help Tyrion to get rid of his cloak, boots and furs.
"What were you reading, Ty?"
"One of your books about dragons, my lord. I hope it doesn't bother you."
"Of course not. Books are made to be read. You can bring it with you if you want to read it tonight, but bring it back to me on the morrow. We leave at dawn."
"Yes, my lord."
Tyrion was ready to sleep in no time and Ty was gone with the book he read. Once in bed however, Tyrion couldn't find his way to fall asleep. His sleep had gotten better these last two years, but it was in no small part thanks to Margaery, and she was miles away. He longed for her. They would need to make some catch up when they met again. He missed the familiar scent of one of the many perfumes she used, and the sensation that she was close to him.
Giving up on sleeping, Tyrion went to the desk he had at his disposition and lit a candle. He resumed to read the book he borrowed at Winterfell from Septon Sapkowski. He kept reading late in the night and didn't see the time go on. Jon Snow was probably still freezing at the top of the Wall. Tyrion wondered what decision he would take. He offered the lad to come in the Westerlands. Now, he had to choose. If he preferred to stay at the Wall, it was up to him, though Tyrion wouldn't understand that. From his reaction, Tyrion highly doubted that Eddard Stark had told his son about the offer he made him. That could play in his favor.
Tyrion thought he began to see a few first shades of daylight. They would have to go soon. No sign of the bastard yet. A knock resonated at his door.
"My lord, one of your men is here. He came from Winterfell. He says he has an urgent message to deliver you," Ty announced from the other side. It wasn't the bastard. Not yet.
"Let him in," Tyrion said.
The man came in, all dirty and covered with sweat. "My lord, I rode day and night to reach you in time." That was obvious from his state. "Lady Lannister gave me a message for you. She told me to give it to you and only to you."
Tyrion took the long scroll the man handed him. "Thank you. You may leave. Ask Ty to give you something to eat."
The messenger left Tyrion alone. The seal of his lady wife was on it, a green rose with a red lion. If she sent him a message by rider, and with the order to only give it to him, then it had to be serious. She didn't trust her words with a raven. Tyrion broke the seal and opened the letter.
Tyrion, you must come back to Winterfell immediately. Someone tried to kill Brandon Stark. We don't know who was the assassin, but it seems he came with the king to Winterfell. He started a fire in the night and tried to kill Bran at this moment. The poor boy was only saved by his wolf.
The Starks are suspecting us. I surprised a conversation where they said they thought we could be behind this. They believe Bran was pushed from the tower instead of falling. Catelyn Stark has gone to King's Landing to warn Lord Stark. I doubt they will arrest us, but we must leave the North as quickly as possible.
I examined the place where Bran fell. I think it's possible that he was pushed and I think the assassin might have been sent because someone didn't want him to wake up. If that's the case, I have an idea of who could be behind this. I don't think I need to give you a name.
Come back, my love.
Margaery
Someone tried to kill Brandon Stark. Indeed, Margaery didn't have to give him a name. There was one that came immediately to Tyrion's mind. Cersei. Tyrion saw nothing, and he didn't ask his siblings about it, but he knew them well enough to know what happened. The Stark boy surprised them together. Cersei could send an assassin to kill him. She wouldn't hesitate to kill a child if he was a danger to her interests, but back at Winterfell, Tyrion didn't think she would do it. Catelyn Stark was always at her son's side. There was no way for someone to kill the boy without being spotted immediately. Tyrion doubted Jaime had a hand in this. If his brother had wanted to kill the boy, which he surely did, he would have killed him himself. Jaime didn't send others to do his dirty work. Cersei, however… He agreed with his wife. How stupid it was of his sister. Send an assassin would make the Starks suspect them immediately. House Lannister was known to not back up before the killing of children. It would have been better to let the boy wake up. If he told the truth, they could say he misremembered or made dreams. After all, Bran was only ten, and he would be recovering, coming out from a deep sleep that lasted weeks.
But now, they had the Starks thinking they tried to murder their son. And Margaery was stuck among them, a lone rose among wolves. A rose with thorns, admittedly, but a lone rose nonetheless. The men he left with her wouldn't be able to stand before the whole garrison of Winterfell, even with all the people Ned Stark brought south with him. Tyrion cursed himself. He should never have gone to the Wall. They should have gone back to Casterly Rock with Robert and his retinue, to the price of spending weeks with his sister. The morning was perking up. They should go now.
Tyrion burnt the message with the fire of the candle. No trace of it could be left. Margaery's words couldn't be found. Tyrion went outside his chamber and told his guard to order Ty to bring his breakfast. They would probably leave in an hour, but Tyrion couldn't allow to leave any time late. Tyrion ate his breakfast much quicker than usual, then had himself prepared for the road. He also sent two of his men to bring a gift to the Lord Commander. Quite a heavy gift.
Not all Tyrion's men were ready when he arrived in the yard. He sent Vylarr to make them hurry and waited on his horse. Mormont came to say his farewells.
"Thank you for the present, Lord Lannister," he told Tyrion.
"Consider it my first help to the Watch as well as a token of my gratitude for your hospitality. I know that's not what you need the most, but you'll be able to buy things you need with it."
"Aye. Marsh is already in the Seven Heavens."
"He probably never saw a chest full of gold in his life before," Tyrion commented. And that was a big chest he gave to Mormont.
The Lord Commander seemed to chew on something for a moment. Tyrion wished he said what he needed to say. They had to go. Margaery may be in danger. People could say the Starks were honorable, if they believed Margaery had anything to do with the assassin sent after Bran Stark, she was in big trouble. "Jon Snow came to see me last night."
"Really?" Could he come to the fact?
"He told me about your proposition."
It took a few seconds for Tyrion to remember. With Margaery's message, he had almost forgotten about his discussion with the bastard last night. "I see. And?"
Mormont turned to look at the stables. "I think you have your answer." Jon Snow was coming out of it with a horse, all saddled and ready for the road. He stopped near Tyrion.
"Is your offer still valid?" he asked.
Tyrion hesitated for a moment. "Of course." He wouldn't come back on his word.
Jon Snow smiled. He looked excited, something Tyrion hadn't seen in him so far. He made his farewells to the Lord Commander and mounted his horse. This was good and bad news that he came with them. They would have a Stark with them for all the road to Winterfell. With a sign of head, Tyrion indicated him to join their group.
Tyrion looked back at Mormont. "I'll send you more men, Mormont. I promise."
"I hope so." He didn't need to hope. A Lannister always pays his debts, and Tyrion Lannister was a man of his word. Mormont was certainly unhappy that Tyrion stole him one of his most promising recruits, but he would make up for it. "Safe journey, my lord."
A minute later, all the men were there. Vylarr shouted To Casterly Rock, and they rode forward, leaving Castle Black behind for Winterfell. Ned Stark's son was with them. They rode to Winterfell, to Margaery. For the first time in his life, Tyrion Lannister was worried about his wife. He wouldn't let the Starks hurt her or his family. He wouldn't let them harm his blood, but above everything else, he wouldn't let them harm the woman he loved.
So, for those who asked about this in the comment section and who hoped so hard for it, your patience has been rewarded. Jon Snow is heading for the Westerlands! This means future changes fo the storyline at the Wall, but also for the events in the south. Jon will meet several people down south, encounters that I hope you will like.
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Next chapter : Margaery
