Tyrion stood awkwardly outside the large tent, the main source of light being the ethereal glow from the moon in the inky black sky. Soldiers laughing loudly, no doubt due to the amount of alcohol the had consumed that evening, walked by, not noticing the small man. He was thankful for that. He didn't need questions being asked. Especially from drunk brutes. Tyrion had been avoiding this meeting for a long time but he knew that, with him leaving in the morning to travel to a supposed sanctuary before the battle took place, it would probably be his last chance to talk to him. He'd been stood outside for quite a while, trying to process the thoughts that were spinning through his mind. His brain was usually his greatest asset but, for once, he couldn't fathom what he was going to say. He worried about the sort of reaction he would get. It would likely be disgust. He remembered the last time they had seen each other. So much had changed since then. Back then, he didn't have any idea who Daenerys was. He thought that tales of White Walkers and giants were just stories, not a very real foe that faced them. He'd argue that he was a better person now than he was back then. It wasn't difficult to be so, though.

He contemplated walking away, taking the coward's option to avoid the potential awkwardness. He took a step back but, as he did so, the man he had come to see emerged from the tent. Hunched over to get through the low entrance, Jaime Lannister came eye to eye with Tyrion and stopped abruptly. He had a shocked and surprised expression on his face, the last thing he expected being this surprising arrival. He'd planned to go find Bronn, join him by a fire with other soldiers whilst drinking their worries away. He guessed that wouldn't be a possibility now. Jaime thought about ignoring his brother. It would be easy to act as if he wasn't actually there and just keep on walking. But then he saw the guilty and pleading look on Tyrion's face and thought better of it. He stepped further outside, not saying anything, as he began to get the nearby fire started. As he did so, Tyrion, taking this as a non-verbal invitation for him to stay, sat down on the wooden bench next to it. He watched in silence as his brother worked, eventually a small flame being created that soon grew to a reasonable size, sending a much-needed warmth through the air. Jaime continued to busy himself even though he had finished, moving stuff around just to occupy himself.

"I take it you're leaving tomorrow," he began, still not looking at Tyrion. It was easier for him that way.

"I am. I didn't want to at first. But the warlock thought it was the best idea for me."

"You've changed. The last thing you'd want in the past was to be told what to do. You very rarely listened." Tyrion smirked, thinking back on what he had been like in the capital.

"I've found that change is sometimes for the better." Jaime didn't respond, silence ensuing for a brief moment. "I must thank you again." For the first time, Jaime properly looked at his brother.

"Why?"

"Have you really forgotten? For saving me all that time ago. Rescuing me from my cell. I'd have been a dead man long ago if it wasn't for you."

"Like I'd leave you there. I can tell whether you are guilty and you certainly weren't back then. I wouldn't let my brother die for a crime he didn't commit." Despite all that had happened, there was still that love shared between them.

"Even with Cersei pressuring for my execution?" Hearing her name stung. He'd been trying to forget about her.

"Cersei was losing herself at that time. Even then, I could see it. The power she had was infecting her like a poison."

"Which is why you left her." It was Jaime's turn to look guilty.

"There were a number of reasons. I couldn't stand by and let her destroy the family name whilst I was still there." He didn't want to just say outright that he'd done it out of self-preservation.

"The family name had already been tarnished enough. But I can understand why you did it. And it seems that the power eventually caught up to her. It can consume even the strongest of people and she was always weaker than she thought." Jaime didn't want to think about her death. How scared she must have been. It often kept him up at night. Tyrion picked up on this. "I don't blame you for her death either. That was all her own doing."

"I don't blame you for father's death either." Tyrion's eyes widened. "How much of a fool do you think I am? Of all the people who wanted him gone, you'd be the only with the balls big enough to do the job whilst he was on the shitter." He laughed. "But, as you said, it was his own doing." Tyrion was surprised that Jaime was so flippant about his actions.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been to see you sooner. I wish I had an excuse," he attempted lamely.

"It's not if I tried any harder. It's been a difficult time. At least you made the effort now." Jaime gave him a small smile. "Of all the places I thought I'd see you again, this was not what I pictured. You working on behalf of a Targaryen and me fleeing King's Landing."

"I'm sure father is looking down upon us and laughing. Or probably looking up."

"That Daenerys is certainly a firecracker."

"Exceptionally so. I must tell you, she knows about your history with her family." Jaime grimaced. "She also realises what sort of a man her father was. She does not want to turn out like him."

"I'll have to take your word for it until the day comes she has the same level of power."

"If we get through this."

"We will. We're not having to rely on your fighting skills." Even though Jaime laughed, Tyrion could see tears in his eyes. He stood up and walked over to his brother and, ignoring the questioning look he got, he hugged him. The action was reciprocated and they stayed in that embrace for a long period of time, Jaime kissing him softly on the side of his face. "Be safe, Tyrion," he murmured.

"It's more important that you are, Jaime. Goodbye, brother."

xxxxxxxxxx

The day had come for people to leave Winterfell and so Davos needed to hurry. Melisandre had been strangely cooperative when he had asked her kindly to occupy Stannis' time for a short while. The only way he'd be able to see Shireen was if her father was distracted long enough after their argument. The Red Woman was, therefore, the perfect person to do the job, being the closest to the Baratheon. Stannis' attitude had definitely improved towards him but he didn't want to take any risks, especially when it came to his daughter. He would never forgive himself if he didn't say goodbye to her before she left, even if it meant sacrificing his political relationship further.

Looking around the dark corridor to make sure no one was around to see him, he knocked quietly on her door. "Princess," he murmured so that she would know it was him, whilst he continued to scan the immediate area. She was quick to open the door, greeting him with a large smile. He entered the room immediately, closing the door straight away with the lock. She gave him an alarmed look, worried and scared as to what he was about to do. He eyed her bag already packed with clothes and numerous books. "Look, princess. I don't have a lot of time. Your father and I are still not on the best of terms, as you well know. But I had to send you off before you leave."

"I'm glad you came, Ser Davos. I love my mother dearly but I'm afraid her conversation isn't as entertaining as yours. I fear the journey is going to be dreadfully dull." He chuckled, enjoying how she could still worry about things such as entertainment at a time like this. He stepped over to her bag and picked up the first heavy tome he saw.

"I'm sure you will have plenty of stuff to occupy your time with, judging from the number and size of books you've got here."

"I didn't want to leave any behind. The worst thing in the world is an unfinished story. That's what the old warlock said anyway." Davos looked at her in confusion.

"You've spoken to Bruda?" He could only imagine how he'd interact with a child. Doing so in a group was one thing, but alone, without the ire of Daenerys bearing down on him, was another matter completely.

"He came to see me soon after that wonderful time with the dragons. He gave me this." She nudged Davos out of the way as she reached into the bottom of her bag, eventually finding what she was looking for. She produced a small, leather-bound book and handed it to the older man. He flicked through it and saw that all the pages were empty. He gave her another questioning glance. "He said that when I finally run out of stories to read, I should try to write my own. Let loose my imagination, he said. He told me it was from you but he was delivering it because you weren't allowed to see me." He couldn't believe Bruda had done such a thing. He'd have to thank him profusely when he next saw him. He was truly an amazing person.

"Have you thought about what you might write?" he asked, still gazing at the book.

"I was thinking that I could tell the world about my very own knight," she answered with a smile.

"And who might this gentleman be?"

"You, Ser Davos. Of course." She said it as if it was the only thing that made sense. It took him aback and left him speechless. He had definitely not expected that.

"I'm no knight, princess," he said, trying to correct her.

"You're staying behind to fight the monsters. To me, that's what only the best knight would do."

"I'm not exactly a good swordsman." He just couldn't accept such praise from one of the few people who truly mattered to him.

"Which will make my story even better. How my knight was braver than all the others despite never being the best. How he showed them to be all wrong as he defeated the horrid creatures. And continued to protect his princess." She stood there, chin up, in a regal position before succumbing to her giggles. He couldn't help but smile at her. He bent down on one knee and hugged her tightly, not letting her see the unshed tears in his eyes.

"I will do my very best to live up to your expectations," he whispered. She pushed him away gently and looked into his eyes.

"You already have. Reading all those tales, I could only have dreamed to have a protector like you."

"Have you still got those wooden figurines I gave you?" He felt that, if the worst was to happen, then they'd act as a good reminder of him.

"Oh yes!" She rushed back to her bag once again and soon found them both. "I almost forgot. That would have been a shame." She held out the small dragon towards him, only receiving an inquiring look in response. "Hold out your hand!" He did so and she placed the gift on his palm. "You need this more than me right now. The old man said that I shouldn't worry too much about you because the dragons will protect you. So I thought that you'd be even safer with one more dragon by your side." He slowly closed his fingers around the object. "And it also means that you have to give it back to me when you next see me." There was the main message. He had to come back to her. He had to survive the battle.

"I promise." He realised that his time was running out. He didn't want to leave. But he had to be the knight. "I think it's time that I leave you, princess. Be careful on your travels. And be patient with your mother." She hugged him again, somehow even tighter this time.

"Only because you say so." She pecked him lightly on the cheek, causing them both to blush a soft pink. "Be brave, Ser Davos."

xxxxxxxxxx

Sansa sighed as she looked around her room and at the expansive landscape that filled her window. She had worked so hard and had been through so much to get back to her home at Winterfell and now she was being forced away from it. At least the last time she had left, it had been through her own volition. Now, it just felt...wrong. And she knew that it was definitely the right thing to do. The warlock and her brother had explained it to her quite clearly. That didn't mean it hurt any less. Starks were meant to stand for and protect this old castle. She was, technically, the last remaining Stark, with Bran claiming he had renounced all claims to the titles and land that came with being the head of the house by becoming this Three-Eyed Raven. She tried not to think about it too much. It was just another confusing thing that had happened to her recently. To think that her main priorities had been to marry a prince and now she was in a world where warlocks, mystical beings and monsters actually existed.

She was lost in her own world, contemplating how much her life had changed (something she did increasingly more regularly), as she surveyed her room, now void of all personality and belongings. So much so, that she didn't notice Jon standing in the doorway the first time she looked there. As he came into focus, she gasped in surprise and placed a hand on her chest to compose herself. Jon smirked at her response and stepped into her room.

"You know how to scare a girl, Jon," she exclaimed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to her. He took notice of the silent instruction and sat by her side. She immediately rested her head on his shoulder, a move he never would have thought conceivable when they were younger. Sansa had been shaped by her mother, a woman who went to little effort to hide the distaste she felt towards Jon and what his existence represented. Yet recently, they had grown exceptionally close, coming together in grief after Arya's untimely death. They spent most of their time in each other's company and she was the main person he missed when he travelled to the Wall with Bruda and company. Now he was potentially seeing her for the last time. He didn't want that to be the main context of this conversation though.

"Maybe you should be focused on your surroundings," he retorted, nudging her slightly.

"Maybe you should announce your arrival more readily," she said, nudging him back.

"But then I wouldn't get to see your reaction, like the one just then. That was probably the best so far." She rolled her eyes at his antics. "Are you all set to leave? I think the carts are almost ready. Bruda's working overtime to make sure there's enough for everyone. He should be resting more than he is." His voice carried a worried tone.

"I was about to head outside. I was just taking it in for the last time."

"You'll be back here before you know it." She lifted her head up to look at him.

"You don't know that for sure."

"It's like you don't have any faith in us or something." He tried making light of the situation, even though they both knew his heart wasn't in it.

"I don't have any doubts about your fighting capabilities. And I know that there are many competent soldiers here to stand by your side. But I've heard the Free Folk talk in hushed tones. Some of the women have even allowed me to sit with them whilst they share stories about those...creatures you're going to face. This isn't war. This is slaughter."

"Even if that's the case, we have to try and take them on. The odds are against us but we can't sit idly by as they destroy the kingdom. Do you think father would turn and run away?"

"He's dead because he thought he could beat something too powerful, instead of saving himself. You don't have to travel along the same path." She wished with all her heart that he would just join her and go south before the White Walkers got here.

"The monsters he faced used words as weapons and struck him in the back. I'd rather take my chances with foes who come straight at you."

"Foes that can't die," she pointed out, still hoping she could convince him.

"Bruda feels confident that they can be killed. He reckons that they might not even reach the castle if we're lucky."

"Listen to yourself. Thinking that luck will favour you. Look at the position we're in. We have lost everything because luck has never been on our side."

"We have each other. And right now, that's all that matters. That's why I have to stay and fight. To make sure you have the best chance of surviving." She leaned into him once again, defeated.

"You're not going to see reason, are you?"

"I already have. You can't change my mind, Sansa. I can't let these people down."

"People you hardly know." She wanted to be selfish, to just tell him that she wanted him with her. She knew it was the wrong sentiment but she didn't care.

"Frankly, they were the first people to accept me." She gave him a hurt look. "Don't look at me like that. You know what it was like before I left Winterfell. I was the black sheep. The white wolf." His thoughts turned to Ghost, who hadn't listened when he tried to get him to run to the forest to avoid the war. "But I found people. It was difficult but it was worth it. They need me just as much as I need them."

"But they're not your family," she whispered.

"I've realised, after all this time, that your family ties don't define you. Men of the Night's Watch, removed from society, are some of the bravest people I know. Daenerys wants to remove herself from her family's past. Jorah was removed from his family. Davos lost his. As did Bruda. But they're staying to fight, not because of familial commitment or honour, but because it is the right thing to do. I'm one of them, no matter how hard you try to convince me otherwise. In a sense, I guess they're my family. " In that moment, Sansa saw Jon for the man he had become, so vastly different to the one she had known. The noblest of men despite the circumstances of his birth. She realised that she couldn't stand in his way and she didn't want to now. She just prayed that he would survive so that she could begin to show him that she could be a part of his family as well.

xxxxxxxxxx

The courtyard was full of people saying their farewells. As a steady line of carts pulled by horses left the castle grounds through the open gates, Daenerys, with Jorah and Bruda on each side, watched the interactions taking place. The impact of the war was clear to see. It was a hurtful sight, especially when observing the Free Folk; children were being made to leave their fathers, wives forced to say goodbye to their husbands and parents bidding farewell to their sons. She tried to compose herself whilst watching these people she didn't know embrace one another, all fearing that it would be their last time together. She leaned into Jorah, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders, an uncharacteristic show of compassion towards her in public. She guessed he must have known how much this was affecting her. Jorah looked down at the new sword hanging by his sword and back to the woman next to him.

"I haven't thanked you yet, Khaleesi," he murmured softly. She looked up in confusion, her brow furrowing.

"For what?"

"For the sword. Davos handed it to me yesterday. It's gorgeous but surely it's too much."

"You should be thanking Bruda more than me." It was his turn to look puzzled. He glanced over at the warlock, who shifted his staff slightly. It looked shorter than usual.

"Where do you think she got the Valyrian steel from?" he asked, looking straight forward and not at the knight.

"Won't it have damaged it? That's more important than me having a new sword."

"It still functions perfectly fine. It would probably still work with a small piece of steel but then I'd lose my flamboyancy and showmanship. Sometimes that's all I have." It seemed that Bruda didn't want to dwell on the small sacrifice he had made so Jorah stopped his line of inquiry. They watched as Davos entered the courtyard, searching for someone. He became relaxed as he saw Shireen sat in a cart with her mother, taking a risk by giving her a small wave. He got one in return enthusiastically. He also waved at a younger girl who they'd never seen before, before joining them to watch as people left. He needn't have worried about being inconspicuous as Stannis was nowhere to be seen, something that was greatly annoying Daenerys. She turned to his Hand.

"Where is Stannis?" she inquired, a hint of contempt in her voice.

"No clue," he responded. "I presumed he would be out here, at least to say goodbye to his family."

"Maybe he did so in private," Jorah reasoned. Daenerys huffed in response.

"Even if that's the case, you'd expect him to show his face to the people that are giving up so much to fight on his behalf."

"It's just another reason why you'll be a better ruler," Bruda said, trying to placate her. It worked but only because she was soon distracted by the arrival of Missandei. The two women embraced one another tightly, forgetting all cordiality and properness that was supposed to define their relationship.

"You have to get through this," the former slave said. "There are so many people waiting in this kingdom to have a ruler like you. I've been lucky enough to already see your fairness and warmth in action. I know it doesn't end here." She carried a resolute tone in her voice.

"But, if something does happen," Daenerys tried to reason, "you must spread the message you carry. One of hope to people who haven't felt that in a long time."

"I'm sure Tyrion will help me with that." Daenerys quirked an eyebrow up at that admission, causing Missandei to look away with a small smile.

"Are you travelling with him and Varys?" she asked with a knowing smirk. Missandei nodded.

"He said they'd welcome me with open arms, full drinks and long stories that will go on through the night. Should I be concerned?"

"All that matters is that they will protect you."

"And you certainly have that covered too." She looked at the men by her side. She first gave Jorah a quick hug, surprising him as they'd never really interacted properly. She smiled warmly at Bruda, who gave her his customary pat on the shoulder and a wink. Davos, being the gentleman he always, bowed down and planted a soft kiss on her outstretched hand. Missandei blushed, thinking back to how he had greeted her in the same fashion the first time they had met. She was about to leave when they noticed her travel companions walking towards them so she reasoned that they'd go together. Tyrion went straight to Daenerys, bowing awkwardly.

"My Queen," he said in greeting but also as a farewell.

"Look after her," she returned, tilting her head to the girl stood waiting.

"As always. And look after yourself. Otherwise, this whole enterprise will have been a wasted trip." She wanted to laugh at Tyrion's quip but was too distracted by Varys' actions. He was stood next to Bruda, whispering something into his ear. The warlock's demeanour changed instantly at whatever he said before he gave a curt nod of the head. Varys gave him a solemn look and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"It has been a pleasure," she could hear him say. Daenerys frowned at the warlock but he ignored her for now. The three of them finished their farewells and they were soon waved off as their cart started moving. The courtyard was beginning to empty but Daenerys wasn't finished just yet. She turned to Bruda and he knew what she wanted to ask before she said it.

"What did Varys say to you?"

"He figured it out. He knows."

"Knows? What do you mean? Knows what?" But the look he gave her answered her question and her breath hitched slightly. His last secret.