Jorah trudged through the mud with a scowl on his face. They'd been walking for a while now after their ship docked at the Westerosi port as they headed for Winterfell in the North. A large group of soldiers led the way, all bearing the Greyjoy sigil. There was a tension hanging over the group; the revelations from Bruda had shocked them all and had left the overriding sense of distrust surrounding them. This was compounded by the small coffin being pulled by a cart, both conjured up by their resident warlock. Jon walked by it, almost as if he was guarding it. He eyed Daario, who had been ordered to help pull the wooden cart, with a dangerous look. Jorah was thankful that the young Stark boy had listened to Bruda's sage advice to leave the punishment to Daenerys. If she ever returned. That was the main reason for his sour attitude, not knowing where his Khaleesi was.

"She'll be okay, you know." Bruda had somehow materialised by his side, one of the many tricks he so often did. It made the knight jump slightly, although he tried to play it cool. The warlock decided to overlook the small interaction. Jorah was also more confused as to how Bruda had known what he was thinking about. He wouldn't have been surprised to know that one of his abilities was to read minds. How else had he figured out Daario's plans so easily? A sideways glance was all the response he gave, prompting the mage to sigh audibly. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Mormont. I can see it on your face, that look of hard concentration and thought. There's only one thing in this world that would puzzle you so much."

"Maybe I'm trying to remember how far it is until we reach Winterfell." The retort was far from convincing.

"You never have been a good liar, have you?" Bruda smirked at his companion, getting an eye roll in return.

"She just flew away, unprepared. She's never flown on one of the dragons before. She's never been to Westeros before. For all we know, she could be dead. Fell off in the air and plummeted. We all could just be going on a fool's errand."

"Yet there is no way you believe that for one second. She has a strange connection to those beasts so it being her first time won't be a factor. I bet she'll have found it bloody easy and it will just end up being another thing about her that amazes you. Then it being her first time in Westeros is rendered mute because she has three dragons. No one will bother her because she has three dragons. She can get from place to place easily because she has three dragons. Can you see the point I'm making. She has three dragons. She's in a much better situation than we are. Any moment, a rogue clan or an army of a noble house could spring upon us and we wouldn't stand a chance."

"Is this you trying to comfort me?" Jorah was still astounded by the other man's strangeness at times.

"You're no longer worrying about her as much. You're now preoccupied with our impending doom. I can't get rid of all your problems, I'm not a magician."

"What are you then?"

"There'll come a day, very soon, when I can tell you that. For now, if you haven't already figured it out, you'll just have to wait." Jorah hadn't expected to get such a foreboding response and was about to delve further into what Bruda had said when he realised the warlock had disappeared again, now choosing to talk to Davos. It was just something else to add to the thoughts that were tormenting him as they walked on.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes were watching them curiously. Varys, dressed in clothes of a standard nowhere near to the ones he usually wore, was stepping through the mud with the air of someone who had practice at it. Tyrion eyed him with surprise, expecting the eunuch to struggle in the terrible conditions. He noted that he was wearing a similar outfit to the one he had worn on their journey to Meereen. He was mostly perturbed by the fact that he was struggling more with the horrendous environment due to his small legs.

"How are you walking so easily through this?" he asked him. His question seemed to break Varys from his thoughts and it took him a second to register the inquiry.

"A spider has to learn to get around. Lest an animal who wants to eat it approaches."

"Are you currently expecting to get attacked by an animal?" Tyrion sometimes struggled to keep up with the constant analogies.

"Right now, animals are the least of our concerns. We intend to face the horrors of the night with little or no preparedness in how to beat them or how to actually defend ourselves. Yet we must not lose track of the enemies that walk amongst us already." Instinctively, Tyrion looked at Daario, who had two soldiers by his side as he pulled the cart.

"What do you make of those accusations?" he wondered out loud.

"I'm sure the warlock is correct and it all makes sense. The tale of jealousy and revenge has always plagued kingdoms and the Realm as a whole. It was only a matter of time before something like this came to light."

"You trust what Bruda says then?" Tyrion was currently opting to stay cautious until the final verdict came. He knew all about false allegations after his time with Catelyn Stark at the Eyrie.

"He has given me no reason not to. He clearly wants what is best for Daenerys, as we all do, otherwise we wouldn't be punishing ourselves right now. And he seems to have a desire to stop the dead from killing us all, which is an admirable trait in a person. If he can do so, then I will be on his side since he will be protecting the Realm as I have done."

"So you don't think he has secrets of his own. He seems too...perfect." Tyrion swore he could hear a laugh come from Varys.

"All men have secrets and he is no ordinary man. If there is one thing I am certain of, he has as many secrets as all I know, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I just have the feeling that one of them will change the outlook of the war and our perspective of the dear warlock."

xxxxxxxxxx

Pycelle was scribbling away on a large piece of parchment about his new findings in a black ink, trying his best not to smudge any of his precious work. The day before, he had been sent a mysterious package, although he had known fairly quickly who the sender had been. Inside the small box was a shard of rock that he had only seen in the dusty books that littered the many shelves in his room. Dragonglass. A horrific yet beautiful piece of nature that he was told held a lot of importance for the future. That's what Jaime Lannister had been saying, at least. They had been in correspondence ever since he had left King's Landing. It was Jaime's way of keeping up to date with the goings on within the capital and, after Cersei's death, the Grandmaester had seen the self exiled man as the next in line to serve. He had always been loyal to the Queen and that stretched to her brother. Especially compared to Tommen, who had been increasingly showing signs of a troubling and blood thirsty nature.

One letter from Jaime had discussed how a large shipment of dragonglass had arrived at Winterfell. He had gone on to explain the situation they were facing and, although Pycelle had initially been disbelieving about tales of the dead, simply passing them off as Northern fairy tales, the detail in which the Lannister had spoken had convinced him. From that point on, he had offered his services to help them analyse the properties of the substance, sharing notes with the Archmaester that had arrived there. Marwyn was his name, from what he could remember.

This was the first time he had been given the opportunity to work on the rock directly. He had supplied theories about what it could do from what he learned from the books he had read but theories and presumptions were nothing compared to cold, hard facts. Straight away, he had noticed how it reacted to different elements, most notably fire. It seemed to drag the fire within itself, taking all the heat from its source. It was a peculiar sight, with no other substance having this capability as far as he was aware. He had immediately started writing down the findings to send off to his new distant colleague.

Although Jaime had never discussed Dragonstone in the letters he had sent, Pycelle had reasoned that that was where they had got the large store of Dragonglass. He didn't know of any other place that contained such an abundance of the material. It had troubled him then when Tommen had ordered the attack on the Targaryen stronghold so he had taken it upon himself to send a warning out. From the subsequent recent discussions that had taken place in the council room, his intervention had been a success. Yet he was still wary that people would find out about his treasonous behaviour but he reasoned that helping to save the kingdom was more important than his life. He had lived long enough anyway, he reasoned.

He was hunched over his desk when the knock at the door came. He instantly got a sense of foreboding. No one ever came to see him really. That was more apparent ever since the execution of Cersei. He almost spilt the ink pot all over his workings with his shaky hands but managed to save it at the last minute. He told whoever was waiting outside that he was coming in a frantic voice before he quickly shuffled around his room. He called for a crow, with one swooping down to land at his desk. He hurriedly folded up the piece of parchment after signing off on it, along with a briefly added message, before instructing the bird to take it to Winterfell. He opened the window and the crow took flight. He allowed himself to take a sigh of relief before he composed himself. Ambling to the door, he opened it to see that it was Margaery who had come to visit him. She gave him a sickly sweet smile as he came into her view.

"Ah, my Queen!" he stated, acting surprised. "It is a pleasure to see you down here although this isn't work of someone of your stature. If you wanted my presence, you should have just sent for one of the boys scurrying around here."

"Nonsense. The king himself sent me. He wishes to speak with you."

"Is that so?" His voice became darker at the thinly veiled order. "Do you know the reason for this?"

"I do actually. Me. I'm the reason because I was having a conversation with him just before. We were discussing a lot of things, mainly about the recent developments we've seen."

"Well, quite apt. I'm sure it is a troubling time for the young king but I'm also certain that he will pull through, especially with the help of your good self."

"I feel exactly the same. Which is why I think it's best he gets rid of all those who seek to betray him. Don't you agree, Grandmaester?" His answer was full with stutters now.

"Ye...yes. Absolutely...a king needs to be able to rely on his council, that's for sure."

"Funny...I never said anything about the council." Pycelle now wore a troubled look. "But now you mention it...my love is worried about your loyalties. He feels that you are in communication with people that you shouldn't be." The maester knew that these feelings were directly hers, planted in the mind of the king.

"Preposterous!" he exclaimed. "I have served the Crown for half a century! There is no way that you can doubt my allegiance to the one who sits on the throne!"

"Oh, but there is. You've always been so close to the Lannister family. It was you who convinced Aegon to open his gates to Tywin Lannister, was it not? And seeing as Tommen isn't a true Lion, it would only make sense for you to look elsewhere."

"These are baseless lies! I served his father and brother dutifully for goodness sake. Why would I then choose to abandon their son and brother in this time of need?"

"The same father who was killed in a hunting accident? And the brother who died on your watch? Don't worry Pycelle. You can explain this all to King Tommen. I'm sure that he can be the forgiving type." They began walking towards the door, Margaery behind the older man. He never suspected her to do it. She produced a small dagger and stabbed him twice in quick succession in the back. As his knees buckled, she leant towards him and whispered in his ear. "Sadly...I'm not." Pycelle crumpled to the floor in a dead heap. She would get someone to deal with the body later. For now she needed to get rid of the weapon. And remove herself from his situation.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Are we there yet?" Bruda moaned, not for the first time. He was basically a small child in an elderly man's body, Jorah had reasoned a day into their walk. The weather conditions had only gotten worse as they went further up North, which was delaying them considerably. Tiredness and an overall moodiness was settling upon the group. Tyrion had been shouted at for quite some length of time by Jon when he had chosen to take a rest on the cart that was carrying Arya's coffin. No one, despite their general weariness, had made the same mistake so far. Davos and Jorah were currently able to zone out Bruda's complaining because they knew that Winterfell was getting closer with each footstep.

"If only we had the magic powers, we'd be able to silence him for a while," the Scot remarked, bringing about a laugh from his travelling companion. "Might make this walk a more pleasant one."

"I don't think the gods gave Bruda to us so he could make our lives easier, for some reason," came the response. Jorah was surprised how easy he found it to talk to Davos, not normally being such an open person. The three of them, especially with the absence of Daenerys, had formed their own group of sorts.

"Well, I'm certainly glad we have him. Just for the pure entertainment value when we have to introduce him to Stannis. If ever two worlds collide, that would be it."

"How do you think he has been coping without your guidance for so long?" Jorah asked him, trying to understand the regard Davos was held by the Baratheon.

"He'll have been fine, for sure. He has plenty of people there for advice. Including that Melisandre." His voice had a disgusted note as he spoke her name.

"Who?"

"The Red Woman. She claims to have powers given from the Lord of the Light. I've seen some of the things she has done. Dark things. She is not to be trusted as far as I'm concerned, no matter what Stannis says or believes. But if she can help us in this war then I'm happy to put up with her. I just don't want to see what monstrous thing happens when she meets our resident warlock."

"I look forward to meeting her then," Bruda said from a bit behind them. They hadn't known he could hear their conversation. Presumably another of his abilities.

Behind them, Missandei stumbled over a slick patch of mud, falling to the ground with a stifled cry. Tyrion, being the gentleman he had been raised to be, was immediately by her side to help her up. He could tell that she didn't want to be further embarrassed by being pulled up, wanting to do it herself, but he still offered her an arm. Begrudgingly, she took the proffered arm, although she gave him a look to not use this as ammunition in one of their future conversations.

"This kind of travel is not befitting a lady such as yourself," the dwarf quipped. She never knew whether he was actually flirting with her or whether it was just his default personality.

"You forget that I was a slave, Tyrion. I am used to walking long distances and normally, if I were to fall like that, I would not receive such compassion. Punishment was more likely. So do not belittle me as nothing more than a woman because I am so much more than that." Her words seemed to shock the both of them equally and Tyrion looked genuinely abashed about his actions.

"I am truly sorry," came the quick apology. "And I know all that." She was taken aback by how truthful his words sounded. "You are nothing like the women I am used to interacting with." He had often mentioned the type of women he had dalliances with in the past. She had always pretended to act disgusted by what he said, although they usually had been amusing tales.

"I am glad you do not see me as one of the whores that you used to keep in your room." There was now a hint of mirth in her voice, as if she was messing with him.

"Of course not. Although you are a woman of beauty, you are also gifted with a razor sharp mind." The only person before this to complement her had been Greyworm, although his manner always restricted him from doing it often. She was shocked to feel that the usual emptiness she felt when thinking about the dead man wasn't there anymore. A lot had changed since his passing and most of that was down to the man walking by her side. It was just such a shame that he always found a way to ruin his heartfelt messages. "You're basically a female version of myself." The grin he sent her as he finished his sentence was one that he knew riled her up at times. God, she wanted to slap him.

Jon was forlornly walking by the side of the cart, not bringing his eyes to look at the wooden box it was carrying. He was also making sure that he didn't look at the man that was pulling the cart, if you could call someone who betrayed his allies a man. That was because he knew that he wouldn't be able to control his actions if he stared long enough at the reason his sister was dead.

"He's not worth it, you know." Jon was surprised to see that Bruda had chosen to walk with him for a bit. He still felt a hint of embarrassment when he saw the warlock. "Sure, revenge seems like the just thing to want and killing him might be a very satisfying thing to do but it won't bring her back. No one can properly resurrect the dead. It's against the laws of nature. It's an incredibly sad reality but it's the one we have, so we have to move on whilst still remembering the ones we've lost."

"The Night King can bring back the fallen," Jon retorted, still clinging on to the small hope that Arya could be brought back.

"Not properly. The creatures that fight by his side are not people. They may resemble what they once looked like but they are lacking in everything that makes a person human. Compassion. Love. Intelligence. Humour. The ability to make your own choices. They don't have that and never will." Bruda gave him a stern look. "And you don't want that for your sister." He was right. Of course he was right. It didn't make it hurt any less.

"Did you...did you ever want to punish those who killed...Isabella?" He was hesitant because he didn't know whether it was a place to ask the older man such a question.

"Of course I did. It's a natural reaction. The anger that you're feeling right now. And I could so easily have killed them. A simple wave of my hand. But I knew that it was a pointless thing to do and I'd be the only loser. If I'd killed them, they would have been freed of their guilt of murdering an innocent woman. Yet I'd still be left all alone, just with another body on my conscience. It wasn't worth it." He gave a sad look to Jon. "I'm not trying to downplay the emotions you're feeling right now. The only way that you can ease your pain is by remembering them in the way they lived. When I think of her now, I don't see her body lying on the ground. I imagine that moment when I first saw her. She gave me a strange look, which was understandable. I am a weird thing to look at. But she smiled. And no one ever smiled at me. From that point, I was hooked."

Jon was about to respond when a soldier up ahead shouted. He hadn't caught what was said but the group had become a bit more energised. He looked at Bruda, who had been broken out of his memories by the alert.

"Smoke," he explained. "We're arriving at Winterfell."

xxxxxxxxxx

The gates to the castle swung open with an audible creak that signalled their age. A crowd had formed when the news spread that Daenerys Targaryen was arriving, the mysterious young girl from across the sea. But when the group entered the courtyard after the Greyjoy contingent had marched to the camps outside of the grounds, no one could see her or her notorious blonde hair. An air of confusion spread like wildfire across the welcoming party, something that was picked up on by Stannis. He was front and centre as he prepared himself to greet the newcomers, with Melisandre standing next to him. The first person he took note of was Davos, who walked up to him and shook his hand.

"It is very good to see you, Seaworth," Stannis remarked.

"I can say the same to you. I trust the castle has been running smoothly despite my extended absence."

"We've been managing. The shipment we received from you has certainly kept us busy. We were worried that you wouldn't make it back when we heard about the attack."

"Aye. It's a miracle so many of us survived. That's mostly in part to your intervention."

"You'll thank the Lannister for that. He got a tip off from the capital, it seems."

"Interesting. I should introduce you to my new...colleagues." He had no idea how he would describe this eclectic assortment of people. "Ser Jorah Mormont, of Bear Island. I gather he will be useful when you attempt to enlist the support of his niece." He went on to introduce everyone who was a part of Daenerys's council. He was only interrupted when Sansa had come running out to see her brother. The look he had given her had instantly put an end to her happiness, especially when he wrapped her in a tight hug and took her away from the crowd. Apart from that, one thing still concerned Stannis.

"Well then, where is she? Daenerys Targaryen?"

"We don't know," Jorah responded simply with a shrug of her shoulders. Bruda walked up to the opposing contingent.

"As you can probably tell, we've had a few difficulties lately. One of which is that our Queen decided to travel here her own way. Haven't heard from her for a while but I'm sure she'll eventually turn up and you can finally meet. She's rather excited."

"If she was so excited to meet us, she would show us enough grace to not keep us waiting." It was Melisandre who spoke. Bruda gave her a look as if he hadn't registered her presence whilst he was talking to Stannis.

"Oh okay. Let me see. Red hair, red dress, overall creepy vibe going on. You must be a Red Priestess. I'd say it's a pleasure but I don't know whether you lot do pleasantries."

"You think you have the standing to insult me, warlock?"

"Well, at least I don't claim to harness my powers from a mysterious god."

"And where do you get your abilities from then?" she wondered.

"I'm all natural, love." He sent her a wink that she plainly ignored.

"The Lord of Light has whispered about you through the flames. You smile and jest but you know the fate that awaits you here. You know the words that precede you, the phrase that signals your arrival."

"I do. But don't for one moment believe that your Lord of Light has any say in how my life pans out." Despite the seriousness of what had been said, Bruda gave her another smirk before rejoining his group.

"That went well," Jorah whispered to him.

"She wants me," was all that Bruda said, which caused his friend to almost choke. Some of the people around them looked at them suspiciously but they both played it off.

"I'm certain you are all tired from your travels," Stannis said, directing the conversation back on track. "We have a lot of people here with us as we prepare for the future, as you can probably see. I don't feel like we should hold any meetings until Daenerys arrives so you have the freedom of the North." With that, the crowd began to disperse as they went back to making Winterfell a hive of activity.

"I should go find Marwyn at some point," Bruda remarked, knowing that he had some research to do of his own. The words of Melisandre had troubled him more than he let on and he knew that he needed answers before the White Walkers were upon them. Jorah seemed to be able to sense his slight unease.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. Probably just the cold. And I'm old. You can't expect me to walk that far and not be slightly more off than usual."

"I can't tell if you can even be 'more off'," Jorah quipped. Bruda decided to respond by swinging his staff gently into the back of the knight's knee before he started snooping around the castle. Jorah shook his head as he watched the other man walk away before his eyes turned to the sky, hoping that it would soon be holding the sight of dragons.