Euron

The Isle of Faces was a sight to behold, all covered in bone-white weirwoods, their leaves forming a blood-red canopy. He had been here only once before, when he took a branch from one of the trees in order to access the past from the Iron Islands. It was the one thing he could call beautiful in this world, the one place unpolluted by small-minded idiots who would fight over a chair, thinking to hold it would give them power. And it only angered him more so when he knew they had beaten him.

There were not words for the rage which had been burning in the pits of his being when blowing Dragon Binder came to no result. He'd know it immediately. To claim the horn, one had to fill certain runes in the metal work with their own blood, before applying their lips to the horn without blowing. When he'd done so, immediately he felt the horn as if it were an extension of his own body, and he knew from testing the horn that when it was blown, it felt like an arm reaching out to grasp something, and that something was a dragon.

But alas, the Kingslayer must have got word to the Dragon Queen quick enough for the dragons to flee, putting too much distance between the horn and the great, winged beasts; so, when one of his thralls blew the horn, it grasped nothing, and immediately Euron knew he had to flee, but discreetly. He'd thought of this scenario, and knew what he would do if it occurred, but never thought that it would happen.

That fucking child. It had been Dickon Tarly's tackling him which caused the delay. Had Euron not got caught up in that pointless fight on the docks, he and his group of men would have reached the correct distance from the Dragon Queen's camp to blow the horn safely. Even if the dragons were flying away, they wouldn't have opened enough distance to escape the horn's grasp. I will kill that boy the next time I see him, Euron promised to himself as he left the camp on the south bank of the Blackwter Rush. He will know the price of ruining my plans.

Those plans had been to take control of the dragons, fly north, all the way to the Wall, and bring the great barrier of ice down. He would have waited for the White Walkers to come and look upon his works, knelt before the Night King himself, and offered his service in return for eternal life. But as soon as he knew that he didn't have the dragons, Euron was forced to help the Night King in a less direct way.

First on the list, weaken the dragon queen, best he could.

Having left the camp, Euron and his ten chosen men – three of them being called Left-Hand Lucas, Hotho Harlaw and Erik Ironmaker, the other seven being mute, nameless thralls who'd been part of the crew on Silence – made their way up the Rush on the south side of the river, keep among the trees for cover. They stopped come sunrise, finding a set of shrubs they could hide within, and Euron began his work, protected by his thralls.

Reaching for the dragons was more difficult than he would have liked. It took a great deal of energy and time, so much so that when he found the three dragon, he had to take control of the first one he could instead choosing the one he wanted to: the black one, the largest one. Instead it was the green one, the second largest. Euron thought back to what it was like being that dragon. It was better than fucking even the most beautiful of wenches in an expensive brothel or eating the most flavourful meal that could be cooked.

Soaring on the cold air, above the snow coated trees, the dragon became confused. There was someone else in his head with him – a human. It was telling him what to do, and for whatever reason, he was helpless to resist. The green dragon slowed, falling in line with his smaller brother before digging the claws on his feet into his back. His ivory brother roared his shock and pain, going into a spin to try and shake him off.

The green dragon brought his wings in, putting more weight on his brother. He used the claws on his wings to scratch at his brother's, tearing through the leather and making him close them. Immediately, the green dragon used his wings' claws to wrap around his brothers body and start scratching at his underside. Only then did his larger brother, the black brother, turn to attack. That was when he released his smaller brother and turned north, the way they'd come, heading for the great expanse of man rock north of the river.

Euron's goal with controlling the dragon had been to burn the city, knowing the other two would return to the Dragon Queen. By burning the city, he knew he'd be forcing her to kill one of her precious dragons, thus weakening her and whatever offence she could take or aid in a battle against the Night King's army. He'd hoped to kill one of the other dragons before turning back to King's Landing, but that proved impossible thanks to being unable to take hold of the largest of them. He might have thought to use Dragonbinder once the two other dragons were in the city, had he not been weary of the fact it would be heard, and possibly could lead whatever army was attacking his camp to him. There was no way he and his men could hide from an army tearing up the north of the Kingswood.

Once the dragon's throat had been ripped out, Euron had woken, barely able to breathe. His body was reacting to the pain inflicted on the dragon, as well as his crew on Silence. In order for a crew of mutes to be in any way effective, Euron had to passively be skinchanging each of them. He felt as if he was burning in the pyre the Dragon Queen had made out of Silence. He lied in the shrub for nearly an hour before the pain subsided, and it was half an hour more before he felt able to move.

Since then, he and his ten men had been travelling north along the Rush, eating sparingly, hunting when they could, stirring snow until it melted then boiling it over a fire in order to get drinking water. All the while, they carried Euron's armour, and the horn. He hadn't been about to let them fall into the Kingslayer's hands. He still expected to us them.

That was weeks ago, and he'd lost count of the days, focused on one goal: reach the Isle of Faces. Now he was on the final stretch, in a row boat, crossing across the waters of the God's Eye. Odd currents kept away the common rower who decided to travel the pewter waters, which looked like cold steel in the pale light of the deformed moon, unrestrained by cloud.

As a young man with plenty of time on his hands, determination and no caring for the life of highborn lordlings, Euron spent weeks finding the correct path across the lake to the isle at its centre, all the while living in a small town on the south of the lake, working as a fisherman.

When he finally found the right path, a murder of ravens would fly at him whenever he had got close to the isle. Those he had dealt with by skinchanging them. It was a long, difficult process, honing the skill, since he had no teacher, but he kept at it, ever since the Raven first came to him in his dreams at the age of ten. When Euron Greyjoy wanted something, he would stop at nothing to claim it. Even when staying in the small town, he practised, spending is days on the lake and half every night in a nearby woodland, trying to reach out to different animals and control them, multiple at a time. After several attempts, Euron was able to control the ravens who were attacking him, making his passage safe.

The ravens came to attack this time, an angry mass of claws, beaks and black feathers coming at them with great speed from the branches of the trees on the isle's edge. Euron didn't even need to lose function of his own body to take contol of all of them, he was so proficient at the ability. The three men who weren't mutes gasped at the sight of it from their own row boat. Euron smiled. Magic always amazes those with small minds, he thought smugly.

They beached their boats on the snow-covered sands lining the edge of the isle, and immediately Euron felt the trees calling to him. None of the millions of voices were intelligible as they whispered into his ears, but the noise was sweeter than any song. Euron took in a lungful of the cold air and let it out through his mouth.

"I don't like this place," Erik Ironmaker said, having stepped out his boat and taken in his surrounding. "Something is off about it."

"There is nothing to worry about, my friend," Euron assured him. "The Green Men who live here ride elks and can kill you faster than the best swordsman in Westeros, but give no reason for them to harm you and they won't."

"And will they take us into their homes, provide us shelter and food if we give them no reason to be our enemies?"

"They did for me when I came here as a young man, but I don't know if they know of the branch I took. And if they do, I am like to have my insides drawn out, so I would prefer not to find out."

"Surely they'll find us at some point," Hotho Harlaw said, coming up to Euron's side, "and what are we supposed to do about food. We've only got three days of food and water saved up. I hope you don't have plans to stay here long."

"I will stay here as long as I need to," Euron told him, facing him. "It may be a day, it may be a week. I shouldn't think longer than that. If you need food and water, row out to the main land. Hunt and boil snow melt like we've been doing. I'm controlling the ravens, so they will not attack you. So long as you remember the path through the waters, you are fine. No fires. Do not think to harm any plant or animal on this isle, or you will be killed by the Green Men, and I will let them. And do not make your presence known while you are hunting. I want our visit here to be unknown. Do I make myself clear?" Ironmaker, Harlaw and Left-Hand Lucas all nodded. "Good. Bring the boats into the trees. I don't want to risk them being seen on the edge of the isle."

He turned back toward the trees and began walking, his thralls seeing to the boats while the three Ironborn followed close behind him. His armour and the horn were still in the boats, guarded by the thralls, since he didn't need them for the nonce.

Walking into the thickly packed trees, the voice's whispering in Euron's ears grew louder the further he walked. The air was thick with the smell of weirwood sap, unconcerned with the cold in the air. Very little moonlight was being let in through the canopy of red leaves, but ever since they set off on the lake's water, they hadn't been using torches, so their eyes were well-adjusted to the dark; they could see they way through the trees well enough.

"Is there any specific place you mean to go, Euron?" Lucas asked from behind him. "Won't any of these weirwoods do?"

"No," Euron replied. "I mean to get closer into the isle where the trees are more densely packed. It will allow me to use them more efficiently, and I'm sure we would all rather get off the isle. However, it is a five-day journey on foot from the isle's south to its north, so we shan't be going very far into the isle."

"Where will we go afterwards?" Ironmaker asked. "We are eleven men, four of whom would all be recognised as Ironborn if we went to any ports and asked for passage to the islands. Not only that, we are right in the heart of the Riverlands, and all land is held by enemies."

"I can't say for sure, but I expect that we will be heading North after this. If and how we'll get there, we'll decide once I'm done here on this island. Otherwise, I don't have much else of an answer to give you."

"I hope you're right about this, that this Night King among the Whtie Walkers will give us all eternal life," Harlaw said.

"I gave you my word didn't I. Trust me on this, if I wasn't sure of this, I would have gone to the Dragon Queen when she was in Slaver's Bay and offered her my fleet in return for her hand in marriage, putting my bets on here winning the Iron Throne."

"Very well."

They walked for half an hour, if Euron's judgement was right, and they came to the edge of a clearing. He stopped them there, saying they would go no further. "We step into that clearing, we're more likely to be seen," he said. "I'll do my work here. Stand watch, but do not engage any Green Men which might come across us." Euron sat on the roots of a weirwood, facing away from the clearing. Removing a glove, he placed his hand on the bone-white bark.

The corridor looked just like it had been when he left it, and he could kiss the Stark Prince for doing all the work to keep the weirwood memories looking like this. And perhaps I will see him in person. That would all depend on what he was told by the end of his time on the Isle of Faces.

First of all, he updated himself on what was happening throughout the realm. The Kingslayer and Dragon Queen were in bed with each other, about to leave the capital and head North to Winterfell. Moving up the Kingsroad, all the realm seemed to be marshalling itself, making north through the snow and wind. The Neck was crowded by river lords and their bannermen, led by a red haired Tully, his fish displayed upon his chest plate. They were close to leaving the swamps. In the great castle Winterfell, a wedding was being held, between Stark and Stark, and–

Hang on a moment. What is this? Euron looked through the events of Winterfell for the last few weeks, and was aboslutely shocked at what he learned. So Jon Stark is actually Rhaegar's bastard son. He could not help but laugh. The Dragon Queen isn't going to like that, I bet. I will be sure to find that conversation after it's happened.

Euron left Winterfell after watching the wedding night all the way through. The boy he'd met – Bran, that was his name – was too busy getting drunk for the first time, and wasn't connected to the weirwoods. So I can search all I like for now. He clapped his hands together, smiling. Euron watched the ceremony, the feast and the bridegroom bedding the bride. I can't say I blame for bedding her. She's a fucking beauty. So what if they thought they were siblings until just weeks ago. They're cousins, and a pretty woman is a pretty woman.

Having been throughly entertained by that wedding night, Euron made the final stretch along the Kingsroad, passing the Wall that still stood. Immediately on the other side was an army of dead things, waiting. Still, Euron soared, in a sense. Choosing where he wanted to go using the doors was easy for him, and he could feel where he wanted to go: a cave in the deep north. Where the Three-Eyed Raven had been.

"So you killed him?" Euron said to the man of ice linking into the weirwoods from the same in which two halves of the Raven's corpse were still sitting. The Night King observed him with a cold gaze, as always. Euron had come before him in the past, never did he speak, communicating through showing images and speaking to Euron in his mind. Greyjoy himself was pacing the cave, observing the place. "I assume you know everything that's happened."

The Night King gave a single nod. There were two of him, one physical, kneeling with a hand on the roots of the tree, and the other spiritual, his presence in the weirwoods, the one Euron was giving his attention.

"I did all I could to weaken Targaryen. She's the real threat you need to worry about. Even though your dragon is a big fucker, bigger than all three of hers put together, even the two that are left could do some damage to the Ice Dragon if they work together."

She is no threat to me, said an icy voice in Euron's head. Snow is the real threat, and his brother.

"Haven't you been watching?" Euron questioned. "Snow is a Stark now, and the boy is his cousin. Rhaegar put a bastard into Lyanna Stark, and that bastard is the one Eddard Stark claimed was his own. Now that bastard isn't a bastard, it would seem, by the grace of the northern lords, and he's married his cousin and is trying to put a baby in her." That seemed to grab the Night King's attention. "You weren't watching, were you?"

I was more concerned with your efforts and finding the youngest babes in the lands north of Winterfell, ones who will be the best for joining our numbers.

"That's all well and good, finding your babes, but the truth is it will mean nothing if you have two people of Targaryen blood riding dragons. All your efforts will come to nothing."

Dragon fire yields against me.

"But not your corpse soldiers. They will make the largest fire Westeros has seen once the dragon start breathing on them. And Stark has had his men mining the dragonglass on Dragonstone, I saw it. There is tonnes of the stuff being shipped up the Narrow Sea to be made into weapons."

And if Stark is dead, the armies of men will lose their figurehead. He is one of those most familiar with us and the leader of military action against us. If he is gone, men will be scattered.

"On that we're agreed. From what I understand, the Dragon Queen and the Kingslayer wouldn't be in bed together now were it not for the efforts of Stark and his fat friend, the big brother of that child lord Dickon Tarly."

You say Stark is trying to get his new wife with child.

"I watched them fuck."

I want to you and your men to pose as freeriders, joining the cause to protect the realm. Go to Winterfell. Wait for confirmation that Stark's wife is with child, then kill him.

"Do you want the baby?"

Yes. The boy you met in the weirwoods has managed to get his own wife with child, and I intend to claim that one too.

"It's going to be damn difficult. All the realm is marshalling to Jon Stark's cause, and the Kingslayer will be at his high table, I would guess. He will definitely get there before I can. I will be recognised if I go into the castle. How do you expect me and my men to get close to Stark? And even if I do kill him, I should expect his wife will take charge. I've looked at her, how she rules. Sansa Stark has inherited her husband's vigor to bring an end to the threat you pose, and she will continue his work. I can't kill her because you've said you want babe Stark puts in her."

Kill the Kingslayer, kill the Dragon Queen, capture the Stark Prince. You will cripple their leadership.

"I can do one better. I don't need to go to the castle. I can wreek havoc on the Stark Prince from a distance by using the weirwoods against him. If we do it together–"

I must be moving off from here. I do not know when I can next connect to the weirwoods.

"That boy is powerful. I felt it on him when I met him. I could invade his mind by myself, without a doubt, probably break his spirit and manipulate him against his family, but I would be certain I could do it if I had your help."

The Night King's brow furrow, making the sound of ice cracking. Pose as freeriders and find a weirwood close to the castle, but do not attempt to enter. Do what work you can. I will speak with you at the next opportunity.

"What about the Prince? He will find where I am if he bothers to look. The Kingslayer will probably ask him once aware of his abilities. If I haven't found a weirwood by the time he starts looking, there will be nothing I can do to stop him."

I leave that up to you to solve.

"And again, we will be recognised."

Make it so you will not be.

And with that, the Night King's spiritual form disappeared and his physical one stood. Turning to leaving the cave, he looked in Euron's direction, blue eyes piercing through his being. I know he cannot see me, Euron thought, but he still knows I'm here. Greyjoy watched the Night King leave the chamber before he did anything, and that something was walking up to the decaying corpse of the old Three-Eyed Raven, tangled up in the roots.

"Look at you now," he said, "all that power, and this is your end. You could've lived forever, but you chose not to. Now only a boy is left to do your work, and how well do you think he can do it. From what I saw, he's still having trouble navigating the past. How do you expect him to beat me when you couldn't even do that? The result of your mistakes will come to fruition in time, and that time will be soon, old man."

He woke, finding himself on the Isle of Faces, sitting on the roots of the weirwood he;s chosen. Grey sunlight bled through the blood-red canopy of the weirwood leaves. Left-Hand Lucas was the only person sitting with him. Euron blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust. "What time is it?" he asked Lucas.

"Gone midday. You went in last night," Lucas answered. "The other two are getting food from the boats. None of those Green Men have found us. How much longer do you expect to stay here?"

"Tomorrow night. That's when we'll leave. We'll be heading to Winterfell, posing as freeriders, so we need to lose all our colours so we're not recognised."

"What about our faces? Someone's bound to know them."

"I'll let you and the others choose what to do for yourselves. As for me, when we get off the island, we'll visit a tavern and buy a bottle of Summer Isle rum."

"Why?"

"Because one of you is going to cut out my left eye."

A/N:So that's it, my rewrite of Season 7. Thank you everyone who's read this far for doing so. This has been almost 2 years & 2 months of my life, working it off & on between other things. I might even make further changes to it in future, taking into account all the feedback commenters have given on this version.

Season 7 is my least favourite of the show, mainly because it butchers all potential for the show to redeem itself from the many flaws of seasons 5 & 6. The Winds of Winter (S6 E10), for all its faults, is my favourite episode of the show, mainly for the Sept sequence, making Jon King in the North and establishing the potential for he & Sansa being each other's closest allies in the maintaining of the North and preparing it for the attack of the Walkers. Season 7 shitting on that potential for Jon & Sansa is a big reason why I hate it so much, instead Sansa is an insufferable cunt who whines at every decision Jon makes and Jon looks pigheaded by seemingly never talking to her about his decisions as ruler, and then his character is assassinated when he fucking kneels to Dany, if it wasn't already assassinated by all the stupid shit he does in the Battle of the Bastard. Seriously, fuck Dave & Dan for doing all that to Jon & Sansa.

And I think it's funny that my favourite episode of the show comes right after my least favourite, the Battle of the Bastards, I could rant about how shit it and the events leading to it are for hours. But that will come another day, if I ever make the titan of a project that will be a video series where I look at both the books and the show, comparing them in terms of adaptation quality and writing quality.

But for now there are other things that need my attention, namely the Season 8 rewrite. The first few chapters you can expect relatively soon. There's a decent chunk of material written for it already, but I still have plenty of planning to do for it. Be sure to keep an eye out for when those chapters drop. I have other projects to be working on, mainly stories and music, but life is also an actor in play, I might never be able to finish the Season 8 rewrite because of it. It that happens, know I will always regret not be able to. All I know for now is that I am happy with having got all of this story out, Season 7 being the one I personally hate the most of the TV show. At least with this ending, you guys have plenty of room to imagine what happens in the Season 8 rewrite, but I doubt you will have to.

It's been a good year and a half posting this online and reading what people have to say. I pray I've fixed issues you all had with the show, small or big. Until next time, where you'll get plenty of Jon & Sans being King & Queen and plenty of characters meeting for the first time & reuniting.

If you want know one thing I didn't expect to happen when beginning this rewrite, it was Dickon becoming one of the main POVs. That sort of just happened because once the Tarlys got into King's Landing, Randyll becomes the main actor keeping everything together, and Dickon would be at his side throughout it all. As a result, Dickon became the dark horse POV out of the ones I most enjoyed writing. Maybe someone else will be that in Season 8. Guess I won't know until it's finished.

I've rambled enough, see you all later.