Chapter 3
Daenerys rolled over in her bed and stirred. She slowly opened her eyes. Although there was very little light coming in, she squinted and rubbed her forehead. Her head was throbbing and she felt nauseous. She slowly rose and got out of her bed. She stumbled and steadied herself on the mattress. Suddenly, she felt something rise. She grabbed the chamber pot from underneath her bed and threw up in it.
As she finished, she wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her robe. Then, she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," Daenerys said weakly. Her friend and advisor Missandei entered.
"Good morning, your grace," Missandei greeted her friend and queen. "Did you sleep well?'
"I…I don't think so," was all Daenerys could get out before she hunched over the chamber pot again. Missandei rubbed Daenerys's back as she continued to throw up.
"What is the matter, your grace?" Missandei asked.
"I…I'm not sure. Perhaps the North doesn't agree with me. Perhaps I'm not adjusting well to the cold. Perhaps I rode the dragons a little too hard yesterday." These were the best possible reasons Daenerys could come up with for her sudden illness.
"Do you need to rest some more, your grace? I can bring you some breakfast and water," Missandei offered.
"No, I can make it through today. I just might take things a bit slower," Daenerys answered. "Come, help me get dressed," she ordered Missandei. Missandei found Daenerys's new white dress and helped her step into it. As Missandei began to tighten it, Daenerys squirmed and grabbed her breasts. "Argh. Not so tight, Missandei," Daenerys hissed through gritted teeth.
"My apologies, your grace. I did not think I was tightening it more than I normally do." Missandei loosened the dress. She seemed puzzled as to her queen's ailments but had a suspicion as to what the cause of them might be. "Your grace, perhaps it is none of my business, but when was the last time you bled?"
"Not since before we set sail from Dragonstone," Daenerys answered. "But don't worry about me. Besides, I can't have children," she sadly reminded Missandei. "I couldn't let myself hope that I was pregnant. Nor could I give Jon that false hope that he might become a father very soon."
"Maybe that is what you believe, but what about Jon Snow?" Missandei asked.
"He believes that the witch who told me that was not a reliable source of information," she nervously answered, running her fingers together.
"In any event. I have some news for you. Ser Jaime Lannister has arrived in Winterfell," Missandei informed Daenerys.
Daenerys's eyes widened. She shook her head. "And the Lannister army?" she asked.
"Just him," Missandei told her.
"Well then there is no time to lose. I may be ill, but I definitely need to have a few words with him."
…
Daenerys cast her icy cold glare upon Jaime Lannister. Here he was, the man who killed her father and who at one point tried to kill her as well, standing in front of her without any weapons or armies or supporters. True, she had heard stories of her father's cruelty and Tyrion had told her that Jaime had killed her father to keep him from blowing up King's Landing, but there was always this part of Daenerys that wondered what her life would have been like if she had just known her parents. Her own mother died shortly after she was born and her brother never forgave her for that. But this man had taken her father away before she could get the chance to meet him. Everyone else in the room shared her disdain for the Kingslayer, the man without honor. She sat in between Jon and Sansa. Bran sat next to Sansa. In the audience were their followers and the Northern lords and ladies, eager to hear Daenerys's judgment upon the Kingslayer.
"When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story about the man who murdered our father, who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat, who sat on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor. He told me other stories as well, about all the things we would do to that man once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp," she coldly told Jaime Lannister. "Your sister pledged to send her army north," she continued.
"She did," Jaime said.
"I don't see an army. I see one man with one hand. It appears your sister lied to me," Daenerys told him. Tyrion turned to face his brother. Would he reveal Cersei's lie to Daenerys?
"She lied to me as well. She never had any intention of sending her army north. She has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and 20,000 fresh troops," Jaime told her. Daenerys turned her glare towards Tyrion. "The Golden Company from Essos, bought and paid for. Even if we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to destroy the survivors."
"We?" Daenerys asked. After everything this man had done, did he really expect that she would let him join their cause, let alone live?
"I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that promise," Jaime told her.
"Your grace, I know my brother-" Tyrion started.
"Like you knew your sister," Daenerys snapped at him.
"He came alone, knowing full well how he'd be received. Why would he do that, if he weren't telling the truth?" Tyrion asked Daenerys. Out of the two Lannister brothers, which one could she trust the least right now?
"Perhaps he chose his little brother to defend him, right up to the moment he slits my throat," Daenerys explained.
"You're right, we can't trust him," Sansa said. Daenerys was surprised at Sansa agreeing with her. "He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours."
"You want me to apologize?" Jaime asked. "I won't. We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I'd do it all again," he explained.
"The things we do for love," Bran said. Everyone looked at him. Nobody but he and Jaime knew what that meant. Those were the last words Bran heard from Jaime before he pushed him out of a window, crippling him for life for watching him and Cersei have sex.
"So why have you abandoned your house and family now?" Daenerys asked.
"Because this goes beyond loyalty," Jaime answered. He turned to look at the woman who taught him about loyalty and fighting for justice, Brienne of Tarth. "This is about survival."
Brienne of Tarth stood up. "You don't know me well, your grace, but I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honor." She walked up and stood in front of him. "I was his captor once. But when we were taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me. And lost his hand because of it." Turning to Sansa, she continued. "Without him, my lady, you would not be alive. He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home because he'd sworn an oath to your mother."
Sansa was touched by the mere mention of her mother. She trusted Brienne more than anyone. She knew that Brienne was a woman of honor and a woman of her word. Because of her dedication to her mother even after her death, she rescued Sansa and Theon from the Boltons and kept her safe until she was finally at home in Winterfell once again. "You vouch for him?" she asked.
"I do," she answered.
"You would fight beside him?"
"I would," she answered.
"I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, we should let him stay," Sansa said. Daenerys was surprised by her yet again. Brienne went back to sit down.
"What does the Warden of the North say about it?" she asked Jon. Everyone turned to face him.
"We need every man we can get," he answered. Jaime was relieved. Daenerys, as much as she hated to admit it, knew he was right. If they executed him right then and there, he could be raised to join the army of the dead.
"Very well," she said. She turned toward Grey Worm. He walked over to Jaime and handed his sword back to him, looking at him with distrust.
"Thank you, your grace," Jaime said as he bowed to Daenerys. She rose, as did everyone else in the room. Sansa exited and Daenerys turned to Jon.
"You really think we're doing the right thing by letting him stay and fight with us?" she asked.
Jon nodded. "If he's not with us, he's against us. If he dies in battle, we can kill him again with fire and dragonglass. And if he so as much lays a finger on you, I will kill him myself and gladly be sent back to the Night's Watch for it." Daenerys smiled and left the room. Tyrion, Jorah, and Varys followed behind her. Jaime was left in the room. He faced Brienne, the person who had gotten him on Daenerys's good side, for the time being, and Bran. He could have told everyone right then and there that it was he who had pushed him from the tower and crippled him all those years ago, but he didn't. Why was that? Had Bran forgiven him for that?
As Daenerys walked into the hallway, she told Tyrion, "Either you knew Cersei was lying and let me believe otherwise, or you didn't know, which makes you either a traitor or a fool."
"I was a fool," he quickly said, trying to convince her.
"Not for the first time," she snickered. "Cersei still sits on the throne," she snarled as she faced him. "If you can't help me take it back, I'll find another Hand that can," she threatened as she left her three advisors behind.
"I suspect one of you will be wearing this, before it's all over," Tyrion sadly said, fingering his Hand of the Queen pin, as he faced Varys and Jorah. He had been treading on thin ice with Daenerys for quite some time now. He was lucky she didn't execute him for this. But she might if she found out he lied and why he lied.
Daenerys stood solemnly in her room, gazing at the fireplace when Jorah entered. "Forgive me, Khaleesi," he said.
"Have you done something to offend me?" she asked.
"Many things."
"Long ago and long forgiven," she assured him. She knew he had made terrible mistakes in his past and she had banished him for it. Still, he was here and healthy now and she knew he would always be loyal to her, which was something she could not say for the rest of her advisors.
"But you did forgive, despite my failures. When I heard you'd named Tyrion your Hand, it broke my heart."
"When I named him my Hand, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," she explained.
"You made the right choice," Jorah assured her.
"I wasn't under the impression you liked him very much."
"I didn't. His mouth hardly stopped moving between Volantis and Meereen, it was all I could do not to throw him into the sea." Daenerys let out a small smile. "But the mind behind all those words…" Jorah shook his head.
"He's made mistakes. Serious mistakes," Daenerys angrily told him.
"As have we all," Jorah reminded her. "He owns his and learns from them."
"You're advising me to forgive the man who stole your position?" Daenerys asked.
"I am," Jorah nodded. "And one other suggestion, if you'll allow me."
After their talk, Jorah led Daenerys to Sansa, who was talking with Yohn Royce in the library. "The moment we can get the last infantryman onto the field we should shut the gates," they heard him tell Sansa.
"Keep them open for as long as you can," Sansa ordered. "There are still people coming in from the countryside." It was then that they noticed Daenerys. They both stood up to greet her.
"Lady Sansa, I was hoping we could speak alone," Daenerys said. Yohn Royce turned to Sansa. She nodded and he left, bowing to Daenerys as he exited. Turning to Sansa, Daenerys began. "I thought you and I were on the verge of agreement before, about Ser Jaime."
"Brienne has been loyal to me, always. I trust her more than anyone," Sansa explained.
"I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors."
"Tyrion is a good man. He was never anything but decent towards me," Sansa continued.
"I didn't ask him to be my Hand simply because he was good. I asked him to be my Hand because he was good and intelligent and ruthless when he had to be," Daenerys said as she walked closer to Sansa. "He never should have trusted Cersei," she said, disappointed.
"You never should have either."
"I thought he knew his sister," Daenerys said.
"Families are complicated," Sansa explained.
"Ours certainly have been," Daenerys agreed as she and Sansa sat down.
"Sad thing to have in common," Sansa lamented.
"We have other things in common," Daenerys pointed out. "We've both known what it means to lead people who aren't inclined to accept a woman's rule and we've both done a damn good job of it from what I can tell." Sansa smiled. "And yet I can't help but feel we're at odds with one another. Why is that?" After a pause, Daenerys had an answer. "Your brother."
"He loves you, you know that?" Sansa asked Daenerys. Although she already knew that, it felt good to hear someone else say it.
"That bothers you?" Daenerys asked.
"Men do stupid things for women. They're easily manipulated," Sansa tried to point out."
"All my life I've known one goal: the Iron Throne, taking it back from the people who destroyed my family and almost destroyed yours. My war was against them. Until I met Jon. Now I'm here, half a world away, fighting Jon's war alongside him. Tell me, who manipulated whom?" Daenerys explained.
"I should have thanked you the moment you arrived. That was a mistake," Sansa said, trying to apologize and reach a common ground with this stranger.
Daenerys placed her hand on Sansa's. "I'm here because I love your brother. And I trust him. I know he's true to his word. He's only the second man in my life I can say that about."
"Who was the first?" Sansa asked.
"Someone taller," Daenerys answered, remembering her late husband Khal Drogo. The two shared a giggle.
"And what happens afterwards?" Sansa asked. "We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei, what happens then?"
"I take the Iron Throne," Daenerys answered.
"What about the North? It was taken from us and we took it back and we said we'd never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?" Sansa asked. Daenerys removed her hand from Sansa's. Clearly, they were still on opposite sides as to who should rule the North, whether it would be part of the Seven Kingdoms or not.
The two were interrupted by Maester Wolkan. "Apologies my lady, your grace," he said.
"What is it?" Daenerys asked impatiently. Maester Wolkan led them back to the dining room. Standing there was Theon Greyjoy and his men. He knelt to Daenerys.
"My queen," he said.
"Your sister?" asked Daenerys.
Theon rose. "She only has a few ships and she couldn't sail them here. So she's sailing back to the Iron Islands to take them back in your name."
Daenerys smiled knowing that Yara was all right and still on her side. "But why aren't you with her?" she asked Theon.
Theon looked over towards Sansa. Daenerys saw him looking at her. "I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa, if you'll have me." Tears welled up in Sansa's eyes. She walked over to Theon and embraced him. Daenerys could see that these two had a special connection. Suddenly, that nauseous feeling she had that morning returned.
"Please excuse me," Daenerys said as she hurried out of the room. As much as she disliked Sansa, that couldn't have been what was making her sick, right?"
…
Meanwhile, Jaime found Bran sitting by the weirwood tree in the Godswood. He was told that was where Bran spent most of his time these days. Jaime took a deep breath before he said the one thing he knew would have to be said before all was said and done. "I'm sorry for what I did to you."
"I was a little boy climbing up a tower even when my mother told me not to," Bran started. "I say two people, a brother and sister, naked and on a bed in my house. She was scared that I saw you. Then you pushed me out of the window and I was in a coma for a month. When I woke up, they said I would never walk again. All I wanted as a little boy was to become a knight and you took that dream away from me." Jaime looked down.
But then I left Winterfell, went beyond the Wall, and became the three-eyed raven. Now I can see everything, everything that is and everything that was. And that would not have happened if you hadn't pushed me out of that window. You weren't sorry then. You were protecting your family, the only way you knew how. If I had told anyone, Robert would have killed all of you."
"So you're not mad anymore?" Jaime asked.
"No," Bran simply answered.
"Why didn't you tell them all what I did to you?" Jaime asked.
"You won't be able to help in this fight if I let them murder you first," Bran answered.
Jaime nodded. "What about afterwards?"
"How do you know there is an afterwards?" Bran asked. Could he see their defeat at the hands of the White Walkers already?
"I'm trying to remain optimistic," Jaime answered. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. I think I should have more time to do more good things to counter them out."
Moments later, Tyrion was walking through the courtyard of Winterfell, watching as men brought in weapons and armored their battlements with dragonglass. Jaime walked up to him.
"Well, here we are," Tyrion said.
"Yes, here we are," Jaime said back.
"Together again," Tyrion said. He looked up on a balcony to see three men glaring at them. One spat down. "And the masses rejoice," he said sarcastically.
"How do they feel about their new queen?" Jaime asked.
"She's your new queen too," Tyrion reminded him. He knew the consequences for those who would not accept Daenerys or prefer Cersei as their queen. "They remember what happened the last time Targaryens brought dragons north. They'll come around once they see she is different," Tyrion explained.
"And she is? Different?" Jaime asked.
"She is. I'm sure about it," Tyrion answered. "I am."
"She doesn't seem so sure of you," Jaime said, remembering how angry Daenerys was at Tyrion earlier that morning.
"It's hard to blame her. I made a mistake common to clever people. I underestimated my opponents. Cersei told me that pregnancy had changed her. She said it was a chance for you two to start all over again and I believed her." Tyrion stopped and turned around. "Was she lying about the pregnancy too?"
"No, that part is real. At least I think it was. Cersei's not as young and fertile as she used to be, but I thought she was pregnant," Jaime answered. "She's good at using the truth to tell lies. Don't be too hard on yourself. She's fooled me more than anybody."
Tyrion stopped to face his brother once again on a set of stairs.
"What?" Jaime asked.
"She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was, and you loved her anyway," Tyrion told him. And it was true. All their lives, Cersei had done horrible things and he did horrible things for her. He would have done more had he not finally seen her for the monster she truly was. Jaime once asked why the gods had made him love a hateful woman. He never knew why. All he knew was that now was the time for him to fight for the living, including people Cersei hated, and eventually fight Cersei herself and remove her from power.
Jaime followed Tyrion until they were atop the castle walls of Winterfell. "So, we're all going to die," Tyrion pointed out. "At Winterfell. Not the death I would have chosen. I always pictured myself dying in my own bed, at the age of eighty, with a belly full of wine and a girl's-"
"Mouth around your cock," Jaime finished. Tyrion smiled, for he had shared his death wish with so many people. At least his brother remembered it.
"At least Cersei won't get to murder me," he said. "I'm sure I'll feel some satisfaction denying her that pleasure, while I'm being ripped apart by dead men. Maybe after I'm dead, I'll march down to King's Landing and rip her apart." But by then, Jaime was no longer paying attention to him. Tyrion turned around to see Jaime looking over the other side of the wall, where men were training. But Jaime only had his eye on one person.
Jaime walked through the campsite, past where the Unsullied were testing a bridge that would cave in as a trap for the wights. He came up to Brienne, who was proudly watching Podrick Payne spar with another soldier.
"Ser Jaime," she greeted.
"Lady Brienne," he greeted back. They continued to watch the two spar. "He's come a long way," Jaime remarked.
"He's all right," Brienne said modestly. "He still has a lot to learn."
"I'm sure you'll teach him. I heard you're commanding the left flank."
"I am," she confirmed. "It's, uhh…it's good ground."
"It is," he agreed.
"The rise," she pointed. "It should give us some advantage. If we are able to keep a tight formation we might be able to beat them back."
"Yes, I think you're right," he agreed again.
"What are you doing?" Brienne asked.
"What?"
"I think you know."
"I truly don't."
"Normally, by this time in our conversations, you would be mocking me or insulting me."
"You want me to insult you?" Jaime asked.
"No!"
"Good! Because I don't want to." He paused. "I came to Winterfell because…I'm not the fighter I used to be, but I'd be honored to serve under your command, if you'll have me."
Brienne was in shock. Never before had any man, let alone a Kingsguard, so humbled himself to be under a woman's command. She knew he was a capable fighter and that they needed him. "I need to get back." She left and Jaime watched her as she walked away.
…
Meanwhile, more and more dragonglass weapons were being forged. Gendry emptied a can of dragonglass before removing the forge of a sword from the fireplace. Watching close by was Arya. With each hammer strike, Arya felt something inside her tingle with excitement. He stuck the forge in a cauldron of water and steam surrounded Gendry. Arya liked the way his muscles looked in the dark room lit only by fire.
Gendry looked up and noticed her staring. "Don't you have something better to do?"
"You made my weapon yet?" Arya asked.
"Just as soon as I'm done making a few thousand of these," he answered, picking up the mold of a dragonglass battle-axe. Arya grabbed it from him.
"You should make my weapon first," Arya reminded him. "And make sure it's stronger than this. Gendry grabbed it back from her and thrust it into a black of wood.
"It's strong enough," he growled at her. He walked to a table of dragonglass arrowheads. Arya followed him. "It's going to be safer down in the crypts, you know?"
"Are you going to be down in the crypt?" Arya asked.
"No, but-"
"But you're a fighter," Arya reminded him.
"I've done my share," he said modestly.
"You fought them?" she asked.
"I did. Some of them."
"How many?"
"A few. That was enough," Gendry answered, turning his head away from Arya.
"What are they like?" she asked.
"Bad. Really bad," Gendry simply answered.
"Really bad?" Arya walked to the other side of the table. "Even a smith's apprentice can do better than 'really bad.' What do they look like? What do they smell like? How do they move? How hard are they to kill?" Arya rapidly asked.
"Look, I know you want to fight, all right? You're not scared of rapers or murderers or…but this is different. This is … this is death. You want to know what they're like? Death. That's what they're like."
Arya solemnly nodded. She picked up a dragonglass dagger from beneath Gendry's hands. "I know death," she said. She threw the dagger and it stuck high on a post with perfect accuracy. Gendry watched in amazement. "He's got many faces," she continued. She picked up another dagger and threw it. It landed right next to the other one. Gendry turned his shock-filled face to her. Where did she learn to throw with such precision and accuracy? "I look forward to seeing this one," she finished. She picked up another dagger and threw it next to the others. Gendry smiled. Arya stared to leave the room. "My weapon?" she reminded him.
"I'll get right on it," he said. He watched her leave. He would pity any idiot who would dare cross Arya Stark. They would soon meet a quick, painful demise. He admired how much she had grown into a deadly assassin, how confident she was, and how beautiful she looked while doing it all.
