Jon wasn't sure if he was relieved or frustrated that he and Daenerys had been interrupted, as he followed her out from the caves and into the light of the day. He knew the moment he saw Tyrion and Lord Varys's faces that whatever the news, it was bad. The fact Daisy had come this near the caves was another cause for worry. As was her expression.
He resisted the urge to head straight for Daisy and ask her for news. Instead, he lingered behind Daenerys as Tyrion nervously took a step forward.
"Your Grace, we took Casterly Rock." Tyrion reported while looking like he wished for the sea to come and swallow him.
Daenerys's voice was careful. "That's very good to hear. Isn't it?"
"It was an overwhelming victory. Very little loss of life." Tyrion grimaced. "But it would seem we've found some of Euron Greyjoy's fleet. They're at Lannisport, where they've sunk those ships we had sent west."
Daenerys's voice was hard then. "What else?"
"Our victory at the Rock was so overwhelming because the Lannister army was not there" Tyrion looked physically ill.
Varys cut in with his soft tone. "It would seem Jaime Lannister took the Lannister army to the Reach. Highgarden is besieged. They will be lost before even your dragons could reach them if they are not lost already."
"You'll want to discuss this amongst yourselves." Jon was going to grab Daisy. She'd fill him in, and he may be pants at understanding women, but the barely veiled fury on Daenerys's face was readable even to him. Not that he blamed her, half the men he knew would be roaring or screaming with rage at this point if they were in her shoes.
Daenerys's voice was hot and sharp but still measured. "You will stay. All my allies are gone. They've been taken from me while I've been sitting here on this island."
"You still have the largest armies." Tyrion tried to pacify, which even Jon knew was not the right thing to say. She wasn't a child.
"Who won't be able to eat because Cersei has taken the Reach." Daenerys snapped, her eyes flashing.
Tyrion's voice was pleading as he urged his Queen to listen to him. "Call Grey Worm and the Unsullied back. We still have enough ships to carry the Dothraki to the mainland. Commit to the blockade of King's Landing. We have a plan. The right plan!"
"Your strategy has lost us Dorne, the Iron Islands, and now the Reach." Daenerys wasn't the cold impenetrable wall of anger Sansa became, instead she was all barely held back fury. She also wasn't wrong.
Tyrion defended himself. "If I have underestimated our enemies-"
Jon cringed on Tyrion's behalf, excuses in the face of abject failure never went well. The man was lucky Sansa hadn't eaten him alive while they were married. He desperately wanted to gesture at Tyrion to shut up and take his reprimand. For gods' sakes, offer a solution when asked not before, and take the blame rightfully due. Maybe Tyrion wasn't as good with women as Jon had thought? Was he drunk maybe?
"Our enemies? Your family you mean. Perhaps you don't wish to harm them after all." Her nostrils flared, it was a helpless rage Jon was all too familiar with.
Daenerys' dressing down of her Hand was halted by her dragons crying out their mother's rage above them. She seemed to settle, anger leashed with purpose. "Enough with the clever plans. I have three large dragons. I'm going to fly them to the Red Keep."
"We've discussed this." Tyrion attempted, clearly missing he'd worn out any chance of being listened to at the moment.
Daenerys' jaw was set. "My enemies are in the Red Keep. What kind of Queen am I if I'm not willing to risk my life to fight them?"
"Not all of your enemies are in the Red Keep." Daisy cut in calmly.
Jon, as well as everyone else, looked at her like she was mad.
"Excuse me?" Daenerys was focused on Daisy now, clearly listening.
Daisy had an expression that said they were missing the obvious. "Highgarden hasn't fallen yet."
"Forgive me your Holiness, but their letter indicates they will not last three more days at best. It is lost to us." Varys tittered.
Daisy rolled her eyes before stepping directly in front of Dany. "Acknowledge the North as fully independent, relinquish any claim to it, and I'll preserve the Reach for you."
"You can do this?" Daenerys asked as she held Daisy's gaze without flinching.
Daisy tipped her head in assent. "I'll leave some Lannisters for you when you catch up with your dragons."
"Your Grace, deals with gods…" Varys trailed off at Daenerys sharply raised hand.
She stood there, her hand raised keeping her advisors silent. "What would you require?"
"Well, Jon would be useful." Daisy glanced over at him. "You're going to really hate it?"
Jon's shoulders slumped. "Whatever you need."
Daisy blinked. "Wait…you don't even want to know what first?"
"I trust you." He winced. "And I have a feeling it involves me flying to Highgarden with you."
She had the funniest smile as she looked at him. "Promise not to drop you."
"I'll try not to puke." He looked longingly at the dragons. Flying on a dragon looked so much nicer.
Daisy looked back to Daenerys. "The North for the Reach." She held out her arm.
There was a moment as it felt like everyone there was holding their breath. To see if Daenerys would accept the offer, choose the lives of her allies over her claim. Would she trust a god to whom nothing was owed and owed nothing in return.
"Done." Daenerys took Daisy's hand, shaking it firmly.
Tyrion spoke carefully. "Your Grace…"
"I can smell the wine on you." Daenerys turned on him. "If you drink more than two cups in a day again you will need to find a new Queen to serve. I will not have my Hand drunk." There was a faint hiss to her voice. "But you get your wish, we move the Dothraki to the mainland."
Jon felt a thrum of purpose as he looked at her silver hair. They had the North's independence. Daenerys Targaryen may be as dangerous as any of her forebears, but she listened when advised, and for all she might rage, she had not lost sense. She was a woman he could stand behind if his path was to be that of her husband.
Jon grimaced as he wrapped himself over Daisy's shoulders. Being pressed this close to a woman who was not his to hold, was deeply uncomfortable. It felt like he should be apologizing desperately. "I'm sorry for any sounds I might make."
"Promise not to tell the Dragon Queen if you puke." Daisy snickered as she bent her knees. "Hold tight."
And then they were gone, and it felt as if the bottom of his stomach was left on the ground behind them. His eyes squeezed shut as the wind felt as if it'd peel the skin from his flesh. The horrible sensation made time feel interminable as he grasped onto Daisy with all the strength in his arms, the rope holding them together cutting into him as the wind tried to peel him off the god like a barnacle from a rock.
Then it changed, the direction of the wind changing though lessening as they felt as if they'd rolled over before plummeting downwards in a great sickening arc. They slowed the further they fell before they hit a giant cushion of air. It made them rise up a few feet and then hit the ground with a resounding thud.
Jon didn't even feel the ropes give way as his legs touched the ground. He just keeled over onto his hands and knees and wretched into the dirt.
/
Ser Garlan Tyrell knew he would die as he marshaled their forces to fight when the gate fell. The first level had already fallen, and the stench of death from those caught in the briar maze when they'd set the thing on fire clung to the air even now, four days later. But today as he marshaled their exhausted and waning forces he knew they were at an end. The inner keep would not hold long once the second wall was lost.
It was here with the fall of the second wall he would make his stand. And here he'd die. His family might survive him by a day at best. All that was left to him was to take as many of the Lannister bastards with him as he could. His teeth grit as he shouted for another beam to be brought and braced against the gate.
He cursed the size of the Lannister army, its training, experience, and those thrice-damned catapults that had been hammering them for a near two weeks now. He shuddered to think what would have happened had they not received orders from the Dragon Queen to raise their defenses. They'd already be dead if that hadn't been done. At least this way they could make the fuckers bleed with them.
"Ser!" A bloodied man skidded to a halt beside his mount. "They're breaching the western wall!"
Garlan cursed. "Seven Hells." He wheeled around on his mount, facing the master of arms. "Take every man you can. I don't care if they're from the kitchens. Take them and re-secure the wall."
"Yes, m'Lord." The master of arms paused before heading to do his duty. "Die well, and may we meet again in death."
Garlan swallowed. "It's been an honor."
The master at arms gave a sharp nod, kicked his heels in, and rode off, barking orders and rallying men as he went.
Turning he shuddered in time with the gate as the battering ram relentlessly hammered at it. His head snapped up at a shout about the sky. He expected more rubble to be hurled at them. Instead, his eyes didn't understand what the blur was before a great gust of wind threw any man too close skidding back.
He grabbed onto his saddle, trying to steady his horse. And then he realized what he was seeing. A woman was standing in a perfect circle pressed into the ground as if she hadn't just fallen from the sky. But she couldn't have been mistaken for any mere woman.
Her features were foreign, the wind rising and falling about her, the light seemed to bend and warp as if it couldn't quite illuminate her, and the very air felt as if it was tingling with power, not of this realm.
The men dropped to their knees, the word 'Stranger' on their lips.
Garlan dismounted, his legs shaking as they carried him forward, and then he dropped to his knees as well, gazing up upon the face of a god. If he was to die, he would look upon the face of the divine just once. He didn't bother with so much as a glance at the sound of a man retching his guts up.
The god seemed to become more real, the light settling upon her, the wind dying near as sudden as it had come. Her brown eyes landed on him, and then she strode towards him.
Garlan shuddered, his head dropping, he could not bear her gaze. His cheeks were wet with tears. He'd thought he had more time, that he and his beloved Leonette might be blessed with children, that he might make his enemies suffer for the deaths of his family in King's Landing, that he just…he'd thought he had more time.
Her hands caught his armored arms, she lifted him to his feet as easily as a mother would her child. "Garlan Tyrell?"
"Yes." His voice shamefully cracked as his gaze once more met her's, the kindness there shook him.
She released him, leaving his feet under him. "I'm here to help." Her mouth was a soft smile, though her eyes were bright and sharp.
Garlan spoke, the words not holding true meaning as he tried to grasp what was happening. "To help?"
"I believe you have a Lannister problem? Let's take care of it." She cocked her head. "Unless you wanted to lose?"
He swallowed. "Never, I'll do anything."
Garlan felt sick with nerves, his heart fluttered as he and what remained of his men he'd gathered to hold the gate stood there. He asked nothing of who the strange man was not far behind the shoulder of the Stranger, valyrian steel sword in his hand. The clear Stark looks, Stark wolf pressed into the metal of his armor, northern armor, all of it was striking in who it said the man was. But questioning the Stark warrior following the Stranger was not Garlan's right.
Instead, he watched the Stranger as she stepped towards the gate as it shuddered, cracks deepening from the battering ram. And then she raised her hand.
The gate exploded outwards into thousands of shards, the battering ram on the other side shattering, the brief glimpse of soldiers before they turned into mists of blood as the force of her will sent it all flying. And all of this with a great, shattering 'boom'.
Air whooshed out of Garlan's lungs in a hiss between his teeth.
The Stark man stepped beside her, his lack of terror and awe was marked.
The Stranger grinned at the man. "Ready?"
"Aye, as I'll ever be." The Stark man's northern accent was thick, a resigned determination to him.
She patted his shoulder. "Try to keep up." And then the Stranger strode forward, through the gate and into the charge of Lannister men who'd recovered from the shattering of the gate. It should have been ridiculous to see two beings walk through the gate alone against a charging force. But it wasn't. The enemy's rush simply ceased to exist as they got near the Stranger. One moment a man would stand there, and the next his corpse simply hit the ground, their life snuffed out.
/
Jaime Lannister stared at the model of Highgarden. "Their gate will fall within the day."
"Oh aye it will." Bronn sneered. "So much for an easy victory." He threw a dirty look at Lord Tarley where he was standing proud as if this whole near disaster of a siege wasn't his fault.
Jaime cut in before that argument could start again. "What's done is done."
"Once the gate falls they'll put up their strongest fight." Lord Tarley pointed to the second gate. "Ser Garlen will be here. Once he's killed and his men put to the sword, the rest will fall without fail."
Bronn opened his mouth to say something insulting no doubt, only to pause. His brow furrowed. "Do you feel that?"
Jaime frowned, looking at the tiny figures on the table rattling atop the map. He grabbed the table as the ground itself bucked with a swell. "An earthquake?"
"The Reach doesn't suffer from earthquakes." Randal Tarley rebutted.
Bronn's hand dropped to his hilt. "Well, it's bloody well suffering from one now."
And that's when the sounds of war shifted in pitch. Jaime grabbed his sword, stumbling out of the command tent, and looked at the first gates. The men were trampling over each other to get out. Several men were jumping off the damn walls.
"What the fuck?" Bronn gaped as he reached him.
Jaime looked at their forces. Whatever was coming for them was bad. "FORM UP! SHIELDS!" He ignored the rumbles of the earth, the occasional sway of it, and grabbed his horse's reins and mounted. He turned on Lord Tarley. "Get the men formed up! All of them!"
He kicked his heels in riding up the lines of the army. They'd only been out here to avoid arrow fire while agreeing on the final stages of the siege once the second gate fell. He roared out orders as he galloped past men. His voice ached from the words "FORM UP! ARCHERS!" And so forth.
Jaime was more and more alarmed every time he saw the stream of men near throwing themselves upon their own comrades' weapons to get out of Highgarden. The men leaping from the walls most concerning. But it was how the rush was slowing, though turning more fearsome. There had been thousands inside the walls, and only perhaps a fraction seemed to be fleeing. What of the other men?
He wheeled his horse around to stand behind the lines, ready to fight whatever attack this was. And then the men trapped and clawing to get out through the gate burst. They were men one moment, and the next like a tick burst from too much blood they exploded into showers of gore. His sword point lowered as he ignored the stench of terrified men and death. "By the gods…"
And then he saw her.
Walking through the gore like it was nothing was a woman, he could tell that even from here. Her garb was white with red upon it and seemed to glint in the sunlight. The hail of arrows in the air flying towards her turned to dust well before getting close to reaching her. With every step she took the ground bucked and rolled. Every hair on his body stood on end. And then she raised her hands.
He was struck by a great force like a hammer to the chest. His ears rang, the air driven from his lungs as he hit the ground. The sky was painfully blue, the sun blinding as he wheezed. His mouth tasted of copper as he rolled onto his stomach, spitting into the dirt as he dragged himself up to his feet. Jaime blinked looking at the walking death coming for them through squinted eyes.
Grabbing his sword from the dirt he swayed, whether it was his head or the ground which was truly swaying that greatly he didn't know. The army's line was gone. The soldiers were in the dirt, their weapons shattered, some were dead, and others scrambled to their feet to run. It took seconds, and his army was in ashes. His teeth clenched as he grabbed a fleeing man. "Stand your ground and fight you coward!"
The man shook his head, desperately clawing at Jaime's hands to be released.
Jaime threw the man to the ground in disgust. Setting his jaw he walked towards the woman. He strode past men still in the dirt. "Fight me." His voice raised in challenge as he came closer to whatever this woman was. He had to stop her before all was lost if it was not already. "FIGHT ME!"
Her eyes found him, her brow rising. Though she came to a halt. "You don't look good Jaime Lannister."
"I'll fight him." A man that Jaime had barely noticed stepped past her from where he'd been just behind her.
Jaime blinked. It looked like a young Ned Stark. Same features, same armor, same dour expression, prettier, but the man could have been his ghost. "Jon Snow?"
"It's Stark." Jon strode forward sword raised as he stood to meet him for battle.
He met the challenge, ignoring how his head was ringing. A thing he near regretted at the first clash of steel, the sound felt like knives into his skull. "Let's hope you're better than your father, boy."
Jon didn't rise to the bait, his strikes never overextended themselves as they circled each other testing one another. His eyes did narrow though, teeth bared like the damned mutt he was. And then he was bringing a harsh overhead swing down on him.
Catching the blade with his own he braced, matching the boy's strength. Their faces dragged closer as they struggled in a battle of strength. Then Jon reared back and slammed his forehead into his face.
Jaime's feet gave way, and he hit the dirt again. He tried to rise, but his legs betrayed him. Looking up he was met with a sword to his throat.
"Yield, Kingslayer." Jon Snow ordered.
He panted. "Haven't you come far, bastard." Jaime's eyes tracked to the woman who was now just behind Jon's shoulder. "This your witch?"
"Not a witch." Her eyes were hard.
Jon lowered his sword and stepped back.
She reached down grabbed him by the front of his breastplate and dragged him up to his knees. Her hair tickled his cheek. "I'm a god, you idiot."