He was thrown hard to the ground, struggling to keep his balance with his hands bound behind his back. Sweat was gathering on his brow as he wondered to himself if they'd done the right thing by laying down their arms.
Their handful of men were a pathetic comparison to this band of at least one hundred. Still, looking upon these outlandish and brutal men he wished they'd all been able to flee with Dacey.
The man with the purple hair and beard was crouched on the ground in front of him, studying Dark Sister's blade, and Jon made a silent vow that he would get his sword back.
The other members of his brother's army were similarly bound and disarmed around him as they stared in fear and wonder at the spectacle before them.
Men with skin of all different shades, some with wild colored hair, riding horses of black and white stripes carrying strange and menacing weapons.
The crowd parted and the purple-haired man stood and stepped aside. Jon felt his throat go dry as a tall man approached, wearing a black helm in the likeness of a goat head, great horns twisting down to points. From the man's chin, hung a long ropey goatee that made him all the more terrifying.
As he stepped forward, the man with the purple hair handed him Jon's sword and he held it up, looking at it carefully.
Slowly, he knelt before Jon, the demon-like goat helm inches from his face and all he could do was try not to tremble.
The man lifted the helm to reveal a stern face with dark features. Jon felt his heart raging in his chest as the man's cold eyes looked him over.
He spoke with a lisp but it made him no less intimidating. "A pretty lad with a fancy sword. You must be someone important."
"Who are you?"
"Vargo Hoat. You find yourself in the company of the Brave Companions. Now, who are you?"
Feeling uncertain about revealing his true identity, he answered, "I'm Jon Snow. Brother to Robb Stark, the King in the North."
The smile Vargo gave him had his blood run cold.
"Robb Stark's brother? Lord Tywin will be pleased."
Something was wrong. She knew it, had felt it nagging at her all day like a pebble in her shoe. The ride had felt much longer than normal and she wanted nothing more then for night to come so she could curl up with Ghost.
Since Jon had left, the beast was ever at her side and she'd started feeding him game hunted by the soldiers.
The nights were cold without Jon and she'd taken to wearing her robe over her shift along with woolen stockings.
She and her great companion were in bed, and he allowed her to lay over him, petting thick coat to calm her nerves.
When she heard Robb call to her from outside her door, she felt paralyzed with fear. Whatever he had to tell her at this late hour, could not be welcome news.
She took deep breaths to calm her heart before rising to meet him.
Pulling aside the canvas, her heart started to thud again as he looked down on her with a grave expression.
"Daenerys, may we come in?"
She stepped aside to allow him entry and her stomach dropped to see Dacey beside him.
Crestfallen, Dacey couldn't even look Dany in the eye.
"Dacey, what are you doing here?" Tears stung her eyes, "Where is Jon?"
Robb placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Daenerys, please sit. Everything will be alright."
She recoiled from his touch. "Do not speak to me like a child, Robb Stark! Where is Jon?!"
Robb's lips parted in surprise and he took a steadying breath. "He was captured."
She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. "No, it can't be, " she muttered.
Ser Barristan entered upon hearing her shout and stood stoutly by her wearing a grim expression.
Dany ran her hands down her arms and straightened her back before turning to Robb again. "By who?"
Robb looked down to the ground before meeting her eyes. "The Brave Companions, a group of sellswords from Essos. They were brought over by..."
"Tywin Lannister, " Dany finished his sentence hanging her head in disbelief.
Dacey began to speak and Dany saw her eyes were red and swollen. "I'm so sorry. He told me to go, to run for help. I should have been the one to stay."
Dany touched her arm softly. "This isn't your fault, My Lady." Eyes darting back to Robb, her voice lost all trace of softness as she spoke through gritted teeth, "This is your fault."
"Daenerys..."
"You never should have sent him away!"
Robb looked to Dacey, "Leave us."
Dany nodded to Ser Barristan in kind. If she was going to eviscerate the King in the North, it would be best to do so privately.
When they were alone, Robb looked at her, eyes shining and life gone from his face. "You're right. This is my fault. I haven't been thinking clearly, but I am now. Daenerys, I will get Jon back. I swear it."
Dany felt grief and fear overflow from her heart, weighing her down like a boat taking on water. "I knew it. I knew something was wrong last night when Ghost was acting strangely."
"It's alright, " Robb told her calmly, igniting a temper she could scarcely control.
"NOTHING is alright! You're mother hates Jon and you've been clinging to her skirts, thinking you're better! You have never been better!"
She could see him taking shallow breaths and she knew he felt truly sorry for what he had done, but she also knew it didn't matter.
"I should have been there!, " she cried.
"Jon would want you here, safe and protected."
She pinned him with her stare and in her anger, she felt like she towered over him. "You don't know me very well. You look at me and all you see is a little girl. No matter what you've seen, no matter what you've heard. You see my tears and think me weak because you are incapable of seeing the rage behind them. I've been playing the part of the lady for too long."
Shock was plain in his blue eyes, but he didn't back down. He was brave like Jon, she realized, and she hated to feel some of her anger lessen.
Stepping closer to him, her voice was full of venom. "If anything happens to Jon, I swear to you I will burn Winterfell to the ground. The independent North will be a wasteland of ash and smoke."
A spark of anger flashed in his eyes for a moment but melted just as quickly.
"This is a lot for you, for both of us. We'll speak on the morrow."
As soon as he left, her insides twisted in agony, and she rushed to vomit into her chamber pot. Ghost came to her side and nuzzled her until the heaving stopped.
Restless, she stormed from her tent, forsaking her boots, the ground cold with her woolen socks as her only protection. Ghost and Ser Barristan followed silently and faithfully, as she trekked beyond camp to where her dragons lay.
She heard Dreamfyre screech as she neared as though he could feel her despair. Her biggest son was almost as large as Ghost now and she dropped to her knees as he flew to meet her. Rhaegal and Viserion soon joined them, each nudging their mother with their snouts, snorting and screeching, mourning with her.
"We have to save him, " she cried to her children, and Dreamfyre's responding roar echoed in the forest around her.
It was full dark as they sat out in the open air, the pale moon and the light from the torches of Vargo's men lit the frightening scene before him.
A solider from the Riverlands, whom Jon knew as Peytr, had attempted to flee in the night and had been recaptured almost instantly.
Now he sat next to Jon again, begging Vargo to show him mercy.
The strange leader of the brutal sellswords had called for a block and an ax and sat crouched, simply observing the man while he cried and pleaded.
"You are my hostage. And you ran. Might give the rest of these lads ideas. Untie him."
Two men came forward and cut the ropes at his hands, dragging him to the block.
Vargo watched the man's face. "Which hand?"
"What?, " Petyr sputtered.
"Which hand would you like to lose?"
Jon's stomach turned as he watched the event unfold but he found the strength to speak. "Wait!" Vargo turned to look at him and Jon wished he'd never spoken, but he continued. "This man is a lord of house Bracken, " Jon lied. "He's a valuable hostage."
Vargo turned back to his men, holding the Riverlands soldier in place. "The left one then."
Jon found himself unable to look away as Petyr's wrist was stretched over the block and his hand was summarily chopped from his body. Vargo laughed as the man screamed.
Petyr's arm was bandaged and after a time his screams turned to moans and his moans to whimpers. Jon wished desperately that he would shut up.
He thought of his own sins, of taking the Kingslayer's hand. While he didn't want to be like Vargo, he couldn't bring himself to regret it either.
He flexed the fingers of his right hand and hoped he would keep it. Hoped Tywin wouldn't learn of how Jon had maimed his son and heir.
He waited for the camp to grow quiet again, and reached out his mind to Ghost.
When his wolf eyes focused, he found himself back in their tent, resting at the foot of their bed and he was tormented with resentment and longing.
Her soft cries tore at him from the inside as he carefully crawled to her. Licking her salty tears, she gave an anguished moan before throwing her little arms around his neck.
He took in the smell of her, the feel of her, never wanting to let her go. If he could, he'd go back in time and tell himself never to leave.
Then he caught another scent he recognized and he felt his heart grow cold. Faint, but there none the less, he knew his brother had been here. Had been inside his tent with his wife while Jon had been taken by butchers following Robb's orders.
Dany's head was a fog the next morning. Dacey apologized again when she and her sister found Dany in time to break their fast together. She had pulled the much taller girl into an embrace and assured her no blame rested with her.
Rickard Karstark had even sought her out, thankfully without the Kingslayer's putrid hand, to tell her he would fight alongside his king to return Jon safely to her.
She received sympathetic looks and encouraging nods throughout their travels that day and it was odd to realize that in her darkest hour, she finally had the support of the north.
The skies were gray and cloudy as they rode and one could smell the threat of rain on the air.
She turned to Ser Barristan. "Ser, please tell me everything you can of sieges and of Harrenhal."
The old knight seemed to have an endless wealth of knowledge, telling her everything he knew of sieges, both successful and unsuccessful. He gave his opinions on what worked best and what didn't.
"And what of Harrenhal?"
Ser Barristan grew quiet for a moment. "Harrenhal is well fortified, Your Grace. The walls of it's main gate are so thick one must pass by more than ten murder holes before reaching the yard. However, the castle is all but a ruin now after what your ancestors did to it."
"Do you doubt the success of this campaign?"
"It is a gamble, Your Grace, but most successful sieges aren't won by storming the gates but through trickery and cunning."
"Make life unbearable for the castle inhabitants until they turn against their liege lord?"
"Precisely, Your Grace."
The day of riding had been torturous with her troubled heart and dark thoughts and her weary muscles were relieved to be back in her tent. It seemed like too much space for only she and Ghost.
Her dragons had taken to sleeping on their own somewhere near camp, quite capable of defending themselves now.
She looked to Jon's trunk in the corner. A reminder of another former occupant now gone. Pulling out one of his tunics, she breathed in his scent.
Rubbing her aching lower back, she was about to undress when she heard Robb call at her door.
She felt a wave of surprise and then irritation and she simply stared at him when she pulled back the canvas.
He looked at her solemnly. "Good evening, Your Grace. May I come in?"
She reluctantly stepped aside and they both took seats at her little table.
Robb handed her a mug of warm liquid. "It's mulled wine. I thought you might like it. Talisa did."
A pang of sadness struck her heart and she thanked him.
An uncomfortable silence hung heavy in the room until Robb sighed. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About how I look at you and see only a little girl. You're right, I have been guilty of that, but not anymore.
"You have done impossible things and so have I. A boy king leading an army and defeating Tywin Lannister again and again. A girl queen hatching dragons, and freeing herself from the Dothraki horde.
"You and I can work together and find a way to save Jon and end this war."
His words were unexpected and she regarded him quietly. She wasn't ready to forgive him yet, but she could put her anger aside. "So you and I will work together to devise a plan to terrorize the occupants of Harrenhal until someone can be persuaded to turn traitor?"
Robb's eyes widened as he smiled. "Aye, that's the basic strategy."
"If we are to work together then you must tell me everything that is going on. Starting with your taking counsel from Roose Bolton."
"I will not deny Lord Bolton is an unsettling man, but I needed to come up with ways to make this venture as short as possible. Lord Bolton has daring ideas. Ideas we cannot employ with Jon inside."
"Daring ideas?"
"Aye, like catapulting bodies of the infected dead inside the walls to spread illness."
"That's foul."
"War is foul, and we need to win. I know it sounds improbable..."
"It doesn't actually, " she interrupted. "And I also have a plan."
It was late into the evening when Robb left. She felt more hopeful and in control now that they were working together.
Dressed in Jon's tunic, she sat up with Ghost, scratching his neck.
"Are you in there, Jon?"
The great beast began licking her face and it brought her both sadness and comfort as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I don't know if it's you or if you can understand me, but I am coming for you. I will not rest, will not stop until you are safe and in my arms once again."
One day bled into the next during his time with the Bloody Mummers. Days on end of riding with his hands bound, being led by vicious men.
No one had attempted to flee since that first night and so no more hands were taken. His companions from Robb's army were quiet and this suited him as all his thoughts were consumed by Dany.
During the day he thought of her and in the night he visited her in their bed, licking her pretty pink cheeks and burying his nose in her silver hair.
He had a feeling she knew it was him and he tried to remember this when he could smell Robb's scent in their tent or about her person.
The day they'd arrived at Harrenhal, he could scarcely believe his eyes. Maester Lewin had taught them that Harrenhal was the largest castle in all of Westeros but nothing could have prepared him.
It was at least three times the size of Winterfell with five great towers that were so tall, it made him dizzy to look up at them. Only two appeared to be in use, the others mishappen and decrepit, the fire his ancestors rained down on the castle still evident.
He thought of his parents having met there during the tourney where his father had crowned his mother the Queen of Love and Beauty. Now, some eighteen years later, their son was about to be led to the dungeons no doubt.
As they entered the yard, he saw that the castle occupants looked weak and wary, they avoided eye contact and were clearly petrified of interacting with the riders of the Brave Companions.
A pair of hands roughly pulled him off the back of his horse and he found himself being pushed forward to join the other bound prisoners as they were herded inside of the keep.
They were taken down dank and slimy stairs, the air growing fouler and more stale with each step.
He was thrown into his own cell, not another prisoner even to be seen in the dark, the area devoid of all natural light. His stone prison was empty save for a pile of straw and a bucket.
Content at least to give his back a rest, he sat against the wall and laid his head back. They could keep his body here, away from freedom and fresh air, but with his mind, he could soon be surrounded by the smell of lavender and sunlight in her long wavy hair.
He was about to reach out to Ghost when heavy footsteps had him sitting up straight. A giant man loomed before his cell, his great meaty hands coming to rest on the iron bars.
His heart was already racing when his mouth fell open, realizing he was in the presence of Ser Gregor Clegane.
His face was a twisted nightmare, horribly scarred and discolored. He must have lost an eye for uneven and puckered purple flesh was where an eye should have been. One side of his mouth had burned away leaving his teeth there exposed.
He stared at Jon without speaking, for how long he couldn't guess. When the monster finally walked away, Jon was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
The orange and purple sun was sinking in the sky on another day she had endured without Jon. She stood on a hillside with her knight watching her children fly, realizing the future of her house presently rested on her shoulders alone.
She spoke to Ser Barristan while she continued to watch the skies. "You betrayed me, Ser. The night the Kingslayer tried to murder me. It was you who told Jon where I was."
Ser Barristan looked taken aback. "I only wanted to protect you, My Queen."
She turned to him then. "Yes, and you did, but tell me, would you do the same if the situation was reversed? Would you break the confidence of your king by telling your queen? Do you serve your king or do you serve us both?"
Ser Barristan bent to one knee. "I serve you both, My Queen."
"That is good. I'm told it was not always that way. No gallant knights were there to protect my mother. Do you swear, Ser, swear to serve and protect us both, even from each other?"
The knight bent his head low. "I swear it, My Queen."
"Then I have a mission for you. It would seem House Targaryen is in need of allies. I want you to travel to Dorne and speak to Prince Doran. I offer a marriage alliance with my first born child, assuming it is a suitable match. And as a token of good faith, I will deliver Ser Gregor Clegane, though I cannot promise dead or alive."
"My Queen, I do not wish to leave you vulnerable."
"If you wish to serve me, Ser, then serve me and do not question me."
It was a warmer day then they'd had for sometime with the sun peeking out occasionally between passing clouds. They'd camped early and she'd set to work with the Mormont sisters, learning to use a sword.
Pregnant or no, she could still die by a sword and she intended not to waste a day she and Jon were apart.
Alysane knocked the weapon from her hand for the third time and Dany grumbled as she bent down to retrieve it.
"What?" Alysane asked. "You're getting better."
"Getting better? I've dropped the sword!"
"Aye, " Dacey replied. "But not as quickly as you did all of the other times."
"You're learning faster without your knight hovering over us, making sure we don't rough you up."
"You do have to be careful, " Dacey said. "She is pregnant."
Alysane scoffed. "Her arms aren't pregnant."
She faced off with Alysane again, the sword feeling more natural in her grasp by the day. Her uncertainty with the weapon was slowly changing into something like confidence.
Alysane swung her sword and Dany was able to block it, grinning widely as the steel clanged. In the next moment, she struck her wrist knocking the weapon out of her hand yet again.
"Hey!" They heard someone shout and she turned to see Robb approaching. "That's my good sister you're hurting!"
Dacey groaned and Alysane shook her head. "It's hopeless for you, Mother of Dragons, it really is."
Dany laughed, and they agreed they'd try again the following day.
She stood with Robb and they watched them go.
"They're quite a pair of northern girls," he said.
"That they are."
"And to think, you were ready to burn them to smoke and ash."
Dany felt her cheeks grow warm as she smiled sheepishly. "Well, of course, I would spare Bear Island."
Robb nodded. "Guess I'll know where to run then."
She slapped his arm playfully. "Any word on Jon?"
"No, but there is no mistaking the Bloody Mummers for anyone else. Tywin has him. I know he does."
"I feel the same. Alysane told me about Vargo Hoat. Told me he likes to dismember his prisoners, hand by hand and limb by limb."
Robb looked away. "I wish she'd never told you that. Tywin won't harm a hair on Jon's head. Not while I hold his son."
"But if he finds out what Jon did... It will all be my fault."
Robb took her hand and squeezed it. "You can't think like that, Dany. We're going to get to Jon before anything can happen to him."
"I hope you're right."
He thought it had to be morning when Lannister guards came to retrieve him. His hands were bound in irons, this time in front of him and he was led back up the slimy stair.
His lungs took in the fresh air greedily and he closed his eyes as he felt the sun on his face. Who could say how long it might be before he felt it again?
His nerves started to get the better of him as he wondered if it was the Mountain he was being brought before.
Led through the main keep, he looked around in awe at the ceilings so tall, the keep might have been a better fit for giants than men. The further they went the richer the furnishings became until finally he was brought inside a study.
At the end of the room behind a desk sat a man who could only be the old lion of Casterly Rock. He was tall and broad-shouldered, head shaved bald and a bushy golden beard.
The two guards muscled Jon forward before stepping aside.
Lord Tywin gestured to the ornate chair in front of his dark oak desk. "Please sit."
Jon's iron chains jingled as he made to take a seat as if it were of his own volition.
He studied Jon with an air of disinterest.
"So, you are Jon Snow, the late Lord Eddard Stark's bastard son."
When Jon didn't respond, Tywin went on.
"I've heard rumors about you. That you snatched Daenerys Targaryen from the Dothraki horse lord and you now call yourself Jon Targaryen."
Jon tried to match his aloofness. "One shouldn't listen to rumors."
"I usually don't, but I've seen for myself what the Targaryen girl did to Ser Gregor Clegane, and I recognize this, " he said holding up Dany's silver ring. "And, of course, this famous sword, " he gestured to Dark Sister leaning against a shelf.
Jon wanted nothing so much as to take his sword and plunge it through Tywin's chest. "What is it you want from me, Lord Tywin?'
"I want you to urge your brother to make peace. I'll trade you for my son and give you leave to return to the North where he can continue on the Stark legacy as its next warden."
"He won't listen to me." Bitterly he knew it was true.
Tywin stared at him a moment before speaking again and Jon felt his shoulders grow tense. "Do you enjoy rotting in a cell? Wouldn't you rather be with your new wife?"
Jon felt his heart would stop, and he wondered what else the man knew.
"You'll find I'm always very well informed, " he told him simply.
Dany is safe, he reminded himself. Far from here.
Tywin picked up his quill and began writing as he continued to speak. "If your brother won't listen, I can make you a different offer. I will release you and grant you Dragonstone, your ancestral home. After Stannis has been dealt with, of course."
Hope sprung in his chest as he gave Tywin his full attention.
"You and your wife will be the new Lord and Lady of Dragonstone, I'll even allow you to continue to call yourself Jon Targaryen. How many bastards have ever climbed so high?"
Jon eyed him skeptically. "And in return?"
"And in return, you will hand over the dragons to be slaughtered."
Jon clenched his jaw at the thought. "Unless you have a third offer, I believe we're at an impasse."
Tywin put down his quill and leaned closer. "You're very young. When one is very young, you think yourself invincible. That's what your brother thinks. No one is invincible. While you may have been successful in a few battles, you're nowhere near winning the war.
"Your brother will die for his treason and if you aren't wise you and your bride will as well. Ser Gregor Clegane is very eager to make her acquaintance again."
Jon stood abruptly and would have lunged at the old lion had the guards not held him back. "YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER!"
Tywin appeared undisturbed. "I will do as I please. I am not the one in shackles. Take him away."
Swiftly returned to his cell, Jon paced back and forth fueled by fury and frustration. He clenched his hands into fists and growled thinking of Robb and how this was all his doing.
Maybe he wanted this to happen.
At a loss, he sat back against the wall on his pathetic pile of straw and hung his head in his hands.
He willed his mind to reach out to his great wolf, desperate for comfort and to know Dany was alright, when something moved in the dark.
Staying completely still, he listened, and heard careful footsteps just outside his cell, much too large to be a rat.
His heart began to hammer away. What other monsters did Tywin keep?
A little voice whispered his name, and he sat up momentarily stunned.
When she called his name again, he darted toward the iron bars that kept him prisoner and reached out to a little form crouched on the ground.
He gasped as his eyes focused on the girl in front of him. Dirty, and wild with hair shorn short but he'd recognize his little sister anywhere.
His throat was thick with emotion. "Arya?"
Tears were in her eyes as she put her skinny little arm between the bars to take his hand.
"Jon, what are you doing here?"
"Captured it would seem. What are you doing here?"
"We were taken by Clegane's men on our way to the Wall."
"The Wall?"
"Yoren found me... at the Sept of Baelor. Was bringing me North."
"I feared you were dead, little sister."
"I'm going to find a way to get you out of here."
"No! Don't you do anything that could put you in harm's way. Robb and his army will be traveling here now."
"I heard some things about you. People whisper that you brought Daenerys Targaryen across the Narrow Sea and that she has three baby dragons."
Jon felt a little warmth creep back into his heart as he smiled at her and whispered, "True."
He couldn't help but chuckle at the way her eyes lit up.
"I've heard you and Robb ride your wolves into battle."
"I think you know that isn't true."
Her little mouth turned down into a frown. "I heard you're not a Stark at all."
He reached through the bars and took her hand. "I've never been a Stark."
"You know what I mean."
He told her what he knew of his parents and how he came to meet Daenerys.
"And you've married her?"
"Aye, " he answered, feeling warm inside. "And she's with child."
Arya's lips pulled in a wide grin and then her brow furrowed in confusion. "I didn't even know you liked girls."
"Careful, little sister. If you ever want to meet a dragon, that is."
She looked at him pointedly. "Jon, you have to promise me that one day you will take me for a dragon ride."
He shook his head and mussed her hair and for once she didn't try to duck away.
In coming footsteps and the jingling of keys startled her and she nodded at him before darting back the way she came.
This time when he slumped back in his pile of straw, he had something to smile about.
