"That's too tight."
" Then maybe you'll think twice about playing hero."
Ranta rolled her eyes at the snappy response from a certain Targaryen, Missandei's soft apology faint in her ear as she was more careful to tighten the straps of her queen's outfit. "Come off it Dany. A shoulder wound is small in comparison to what could of happened." Ranta quipped, wiping away a small bead of sweat from her brow. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
Sweating.
Her stomach also was in constant state of painful knots, her skin burned, occasionally she was light head and seen tiny black spots in her vision. Being poisoned ran through the monarch's mind when she first came down with all the symptoms but then doubt filled her frame. The Lannisters didn't poison, it wasn't their style. So she decided to try and wait this ailment out.
Did anyone else know though? Of course not.
They collectively had enough to worry about. Issues such as the Dragonpit meeting that had been cleared by Cersei Lannister after all. Entertaining two guest lords and one lady had also been on Ranta's mind when they first arrived the on Dragonstone curtesy of Tyrion's letter not too long ago and now the Naylor queen found her ship to be occupied by a certain Northern man and his right hand as it arrived within sights of the notorious capital.
Ranta was just glad Oberyn and Olenna decided to fly their own colors on the way there instead of joining Jon. The ship was crowded enough as it was. "I'm finished, your grace." Missandei said softly, stepping away from the monarch. Rising to her feet, Ranta turned and faced the mirror in her cabin. Her exotic wavy blue hair was free with no bindings and a bit of charcoal paste that the Dothraki used had been added around her eyes to make the color there pop.
The long sleeved dress Ranta wore was made of a thick dark grey cloth despite its elegant appearance and over the top she wore a modified corset with shoulder pads colored as dark as night. Rhaegar's ruby gifted necklace hung were it usually did around the monarch's neck - the jewelry shining even in the dim lighting of her cabin.
"Why are you so pale?" Daenerys asked, scrutinizing her sister and then took it upon herself to deliver a few slaps to her cheeks in order to get them to turn rosy. " Yes thank you Dany, I needed that." Ranta pulled away sharply, throwing a small glare to the Targaryen. Daenerys herself was in her usual dragon based dress - the only difference now was that a long metal chain styled into dragon scales was flung across her body, a trio of craftily made dragon heads holding a similarly designed dark red cape over her shoulder.
"If you're done." Ranta snipped, earning an immature face from the Targaryen in return. Ranta couldn't help the childish urge she had within her and pushed the silvery blonde as she slowly passed her. Letting out a dramatic gasp of disbelief Daenerys swiped uselessly at the older woman who barely skirted out of reach and raced out of the cabin with the Khaleesi on her heels.
"Jorah!" Ranta squealed stomping up the stairs leading to the top deck. Having been previously engaged in conversation with Tyrion, Davos and Jon - Jorah was surprised to see the monarch clamoring up the steps with most haste and quickly put herself behind his larger frame. A child like look of mischievousness filled her eyes to the brim as she waited for Daenerys to come.
Upon the sight of the silver head of her sister, Ranta gave a quick flick of her wrist - sending the ship jumping up as if one of the snakes below with a bit of manipulation from the water.
Said jump caused Daenerys to trip over the last step and fall face first into the deck. The men of the ship watched with raised brows as the monarch then burst into a hearty laughter, stumbling forward and falling onto her knees before Daenerys in a show of concern since she couldn't verbally ask around her laughter.
"So much for not using your other gifts." Dany glared, trying not to laugh along with her sister's contagious laughter. "...Stop laughing!" she whined, swatting at the older woman. "Who was the one who convinced me to learn how to use them in the first place?" Ranta said coyly. "I've come to regret that decision." Daenerys muttered, being helped to her feet by her sister and Missandei.
"You're rather in a jovial mood, all things considering." Davos noted as a matter of fact. "At least one ray of light has to shine through the clouds." Ranta mused easily, her smile faded as she then looked out at the horizon. "I reckon there won't be much time left for games after today." the woman eyed the Red Keep she had just secretly fled recently.
"Maybe not." Tyrion's deep voice sounded as he stepped beside her. "But we'll get through those days together nonetheless." he promised. "I'll hold you to that." Ranta smirked lightly, her face twisting away from the others in time to morph into one filled with pain and discomfort.
Her stomach was killing her. It was like her insides were on fire and the monarch was beginnging to accept the fact that maybe she had been poisoned after all.
"Missandei...or anyone really." Ranta took extreme care to keep her tone light and easy. "Go down below deck and ask to have some plantain tea made." she instructed, making her way over to a crate nearby and sat down a top of it. The Naylor knew that the herb in said tea was good to remove poisons from the human body, she just hoped that it was fast acting. "At once, your grace." Missandei bowed lightly and was quick to return below deck.
"I wanted to thank you," Jon's voice startled Ranta, having not been expecting anyone to join her in close proximity. The northern man had kicked over his own crate and sat down close to the blue haired woman. " again, your grace. None of this would be happening if it weren't for you." the dark haired male motioned to their surroundings, " I seem to be doing that a lot actually." Jon then smiled bashfully.
"And they say that Northern men have no manners." Ranta hummed jokingly, "But you shouldn't be thanking me. Tyrion's the one who sent out the letters." she then dismissed the gratitude. "Something he wouldn't have done without your approval. So again, thank you." Jon bid. Seeing as there was no point in continuing to object his thanks, Ranta merely smiled lightly and gave the Stark a tilt of her head before returning her gaze out to the sea, giving Jon the opportunity to get a good look at the woman.
"Are you sea sick?" he asked after a moment. "Sea sick?" Ranta echoed with a furrowed brow. "You look like you want to be sick" Jon wiped a gloved hand across her forehead, removing a bit of sweat. The cool leather of his glove felt wonderful on her forehead no matter how breif the contact was. "Must of been something I ate. My stomach will settle with this tea" Ranta fibbed with a weak smile. Jon nodded in understanding though didn't look completely convinced.
"I heard about Ser Barristan." he then said, "How is he doing?" the Stark asked. "As well as can be expected," Ranta sighed heavily. "The sun is setting on his time already, he didn't need to go through what he did while in Cersei's grasp. The maesters say he'll make a recovery, but I worry about him." she admitted. "Barristan's been at this a lot longer than we have, he'll be okay." Jon comforted, placing a hand on the woman's covered knee.
"Besides," the dark haired man then took on a joking tone, "If Ser Davos has survived everything I've put him through then that should really convince you that Ser Barristan will be alright." the duo then broke out into low chuckles. "What about your shoulder?" Jon then asked lowly, watching as Ranta's hand went up and covered the throbbing wound struggling to heal. "You heard about that as well?" the Naylor brought her eyes to his.
" When we arrived, the Dothraki who speak common were all too proud to boast how their Little Sister allowed an arrow to pierce her flesh when coming to the defense of their 'grandfather'." Jon explained, watching as a fond smile broke out across the woman's lips. "Yes, they have become rather fond of ser Barristan over the years, haven't they?" Ranta said more to herself than to her companion.
Jon's eyes found themselves then trailed over to the storm cloud filled with red rubys around her neck. "These are the last remaining gems of Rhaegar Targaryen's legendary armor." Ranta explained, catching his stare. Jon's eyes looked up into sky blue ones and slightly flushed for being caught. "He had this made for me many years ago when I was still a child. Isn't it pretty?" she pulled at the locket enough so she could look down at it herself.
"Beautiful." Jon murmured seemingly unaware that he was not even looking to the necklace, but to the one who wore it. "Your tea, your grace." Missandei's voice broke the wolf out of his stare. Turning back slightly, Ranta smiled in thanks and took the steaming cup from Missandei. "Thank you." the monarch thanked her dear friend. Blowing lightly on the hot liquid, Ranta sipped politely at the small drink provided.
The moment Ranta's taste buds were able to process the taste, she nearly spit it out. Jon watched in alarm as the woman lurched forward as if she were about to retch up her stomach contents and cover her mouth with a hand. Fighting to regain her composure, Ranta forced herself to swallow the thick, earthy tea in one go.
"Missandei." Ranta coughed, "What the hell was that?!" she blinked. "...Plantain tea, your grace, as you requested." the translator folded in on herself, her hands wringing together nervously. By the gods she was truly fucked if Missandei had spoken the truth. "This has got to be the nastiest fucking tea I have ever tasted." Ranta said bluntly, stunning all with her vulgar language.
"I can add sweetener to it, if you wish, my queen." Missandei offered but was met with a shake of the monarch's head. "I suppose the unpleasant taste means that its' effects will be genuine. No need to risk messing that up." Ranta supposed. Chugging the rest of the tea, the blue haired woman shivered violently before sighing in relief - handing Missandei the now empty cup. Hopefully the tea would work wonders on her body until she could get to a maester.
Eyeing the horizon for a few minutes, Ranta then turned her gaze away from it with a sigh. "I suppose I should be going then." the woman declared as she stood to her feet, heading towards the opposite end of the ship. "Going?" Jon echoed shocked. "Going where?" he questioned. All around them was every ship in the monarch's armada and then some, there wasn't anywhere to go except to a different ship.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?" Ranta winked, throwing one leg over the railing and then bringing her other over as well until she faced the sea. Soundlessly Vaemarr emerged from the water below and offered his head to her, having been traveling side by side to the ship and noticing his mother's desires. Stepping onto the grand creature, Ranta offered a wave to those remaining on deck.
"I'll see you all in a little while." the Naylor bid as the basilisk then moved off to where he knew all his brothers were. Near the back of the group of numerous ships. Many things were said about Tyrion Lannister and one of the few truths that Ranta had come to agree on was his flair for theatrics. The Unsullied, Dothraki and Second sons were all to un-board and flaunt before the Red Keep's gates as a show of power.
Tarla would remain in the bay with the rest of house Naylor, pirates and Greyjoys to command the naval fleet there incase something uncouth arouse. Olenna, Oberyn, Jon Snow and Tyrion were to head to the Dragonpit with their respective parties to await for Cersei. Ranta would bring up the rear of the arriving pack with all three dragons, two basilisks and a show of what she could do. From there on the meeting would commence.
An intimidation tactic, Tyrion called it, but Ranta just hoped it would do some justice for them.
0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0.o0o.0o.0o.0o.
"Where is she?"
Tyrion told himself he wouldn't look at her unless it was absolutely necessary.
"She'll be here soon."
He was doing good so far.
"Didn't travel with you?"
"Not quite."
He broke his own vow and looked to his sister out of the corner of his eye as he said this. Jamie and Euron sat with her of course. Eyes continuing to roam, Tyrion once again spotted the Dornish party sitting next to the Northerners while Olenna and her party graced their own side. An awkward silence filled the air as the collective lords and ladies sat there waiting for the one person they needed to be here in order to begin. The wait however, did not last much longer after the silence fell.
It began small but then it grew large. The tremors of the earth had begun to shake under everyone's feet and was only growing stronger, thunder clouds rolled in and the wind picked up dangerously - threatening to blow away the overhangs Cersei had provided everyone.
Then came a sound that rose above the rumble of thunder, an unmistakable cry followed by a heavy flap of wings. Looking upwards, Cersei and Olenna were the only ones who remained seated as the others rushed to get a better look at what was coming. Above in the darkened sky, the silhouettes of three dragons making to land was highlighted by a flash of lightning.
Lannister soldiers scattered when Drogon and Viserion first neared the ruined wall of the pit and landed heavily with a roar. From on both sides of the black and green dragons came the monstrous forms of Vaemarr and Laemyx who also let loose a string of roars them selves until Rhaegal finally landed with a thud and joined his brothers in the warning song they sang for all to hear.
A solitary lightning bolt dropped behind the collage of beasts, highlighting the outline of the one woman who sat between them all, five rows of fire then lighting the sky from the respective creatures present. With an unseen nudge to those on the ground, Rhaegal took the cue from his rider and began maneuvering down the broken structure that used to house Balerion the Dread many years ago.
Lowering his body down to the ground below, Rhaegal purred lightly in regards to Ranta steadily dismounting - watching with a careful eye to make sure she got down safely. Drogon, Viserion, Vaemarr and Laemyx all snarled at the onlookers threateningly as the blue hair woman dismounted, the promise of a quick and agonizing death rang in the air if anything were to happen.
Once she was down, the tan dragon growled and glared once more at Cersei in particular before pushing off the ground with his legs and gave a mighty flap of his wings to get himself into the now clear blue sky with a cry. Drogon and Viserion took off after him while Vaemarr and Laemyx turned to follow as well from down below.
Ranta Naylor's composure remained calm and relaxed as she walked towards her vacant seat surrounded by her people. Multiple eyes burned right through the woman but she didn't pay them any mind. All Ranta was focused on was not tripping and falling in front of everyone if she had to be honest with herself. Once at her seat, the monarch delicately sat down - triggering the others to follow her lead. Adjusting her dress to her liking, Ranta then finally turned towards one of the many people staring holes into her head.
Cersei.
A short haired strawberry blonde wearing a slim yet intricate crown and thick black dress with a lions symbol at the base of her neck. When thinking about the comparison between her, Jamie and Tyrion- Ranta could see the physical resemblance but that was about it. "We've been waiting for some time." Cersei hissed. "My apologies." Ranta offered in return and then looked to her Hand pointedly.
Taking a quick breath, the dwarf hopped off of his chair and walked to the center of the platform. Ranta didn't miss the amused smile gracing Daenerys' lips at her simple response to what Cersei had said.
"All of us here are facing a unique-"
"Theon!"
All eyes looked to the source of the call and seen Euron had been the cause of the disturbance. "I have your sister, if you don't surrender to me right now….I'll kill her." The scarred Greyjoy shrugged.
While Tyrion was busy throwing incredulous looks to Jamie who could only shrug helplessly himself, Cersei and Ranta had engaged in a stare down. The lion was looking for some kind of reaction. Anything to show what the Naylor was thinking when Euron said this but the blue haired woman was a blank slate. She gave nothing away, but by the gods was she raging inwardly.
Yara was captured and she didn't even know it.
Cersei Lannister had another one of her people.
Why hadn't she been informed of this? Why did Tyrion and every other person around keep it quiet?
There was going to be seven different hells to pay after this, starting with Tyrion… "Perhaps you ought to sit down" Ranta and Cersei tuned into the conversation at this and both looked to see Euron on his feet and within danger close proximity of Tyrion's personal space. "Why?" Euron tested Jamie, taking another step forward but stopped when the earth spike sprouted up between them threateningly.
Reeling back, Euron turned to look at Ranta along with everyone else in the pit. The blue haired woman had a narrowed gaze upon the dark haired man. "I see no use in another Greyjoy being present and the last time I checked there were still heirs to the Salt throne possible " she said calmly. "If you can't bring yourself to step away from my Hand and allow him to speak…." the Naylor trailed off warningly.
"Sit down or leave." Cersei's sharp voice commanded a moment later. "Or you could do us all a favor and throw yourself onto the spike and bleed out on the ground." Olenna chimed in surprisingly, "Whatever you chose- do it quickly." the eldest woman there demanded. Looking to the Tyrell, Euron's lips slid into a smile before he began to chuckle.
"No matter how old the rose gets, her thorns are still as sharp as ever." the man acknowledged, turning back towards Ranta and taking exaggerated steps backwards until he was back to his seat - sitting down heavily. With the sitting of the Greyjoy, the earth spike had returned to the ground and Tyrion was able to continue.
"As this recent demonstration has shown," the dwarf began slowly, " we all are a group of people who do not like each other, we have suffered at each other's hands and lost loved ones at each other's hands. If all we wanted was more of the same, there would be no reason for us to be here. We are entirely capable of raging full scale wars against each other without meeting in person." he stated.
"So instead you expect us to settle our differences and spend the rest of our lives in harmony." Cersei assumed sarcastically, earning a snort from Olenna and quirked brow from Oberyn. "We all know that will never happen." Tyrion acknowledged. "So why are we here?" Cersei asked.
At this, Jon stood to his feet and took center stage with Tyrion. "This isn't about living in harmony." he looked to the lioness. "The same thing is coming for all of us. A general you can't negotiate with, an army that doesn't leave corpses on the battlefield...Lord Tyrion says that a million people live in this city. Well there's about to be a million more soldiers in the army of the dead." Jon stated without hesitation.
"Which I'm sure would be a great improvement for most of them." Cersei quipped. Annoyed by her lack luster attitude, Jon took a few steps forwards and glared at the strawberry blonde heatedly. "This is serious, I wouldn't be anywhere near this place if it wasn't." he rumbled. "I don't think it's serious at all, I think it's another bad joke." Cersei shrugged and then turned to the Naylor queen.
"My brother Jamie's told me correctly, you're asking for a ceasefire - a truce." she stated and watched as the blue haired woman nod wordlessly. " A truce?" Cersei then huffed a laugh. " Now why in the world when I do that? So it will be easier for you and your snakes to slink about my capitol again, slitting the throats of my men when they least expect it before finally coming for me?" her eyes narrowed.
This caused a smile to spread across the lips of Oberyn and Ranta alike. " If she wanted you dead, Cersei Lannister." Oberyn intoned, "Then you would be dead. She had the most opportune moment to do so but chose not to. She could kill you now and get this all over with but chooses not to." the Dornish man said. "And why not?" Cersei was undeterred.
"With all your powers, why haven't you killed me yet and took the throne?" she wondered, leaning forward in her seat. "I find myself wondering that everyday." Olenna's bored voice chimed in as she too looked to the exotic haired woman. " Because I gave my word." Ranta said, "I do not need an army as large as mine to take Westeros." the woman said plainly.
"But because of the vow I gave to Viserys Targaryen many years ago, it's why I have it. I swore to every person in shackles that resided in Slaver's Bay that they would never know such an atrocity again and my word stands true. Because of the assurance I made to Tyrion to return after the dungeon raid, it is why you were not killed amongst other things." she vaguely referenced to the backed off Riverland plans.
"And now I extend the same courtesy to you," Ranta continued, "Stand your army down and your capitol will be safe until I finish dealing with the Northern threat." she assured. " Just my capitol?" Cersei didn't miss a beat. " What about the rest of my lands? Just because you promise to stand down, will your new allies follow suit?" the lioness threw accusatory looks to Olenna and Oberyn alike.
"The parameters of this meeting was run by them," Ranta remained ever calm, "They know I say what I mean and mean what I say. I said that this arrangement was to be founded on an agreement of a standstill on all sides alike. Neither advancing or retreating, all parties are to stay where they are for a temporary time period. They know that and have come to terms with it." she finished.
The lioness just refused to bow down though. Opening her mouth to fire off another sentence, Tyrion quickly interjected. "We could go round and round until we're all dust and bones." he said.
"But that's not why we're here. We have something to show you." Tyrion proclaimed and looked to Oberyn pointedly. The prince was in his signature slouched position that depicted the embodiment of disinterest with what was happening around him, though as usual, he was still well aware of what was happening around him. With a lazy wave of his hand, those in his personal guard stepped up and carried over the chest Ranta had left in his possession.
Each of the men grunted lightly from the strain of carrying such a heavy burden and all but collectively dropped the container wrapped in chains on the ground with relieved sighs. Working together, they began loosening the locks, chains, and clasps that held the crate closed - Cersei and Jamie exchanging looks as they did this, wondering what was so horrifying in there that it needed so many safety precautions.
Stepping forward, one brave soul whipped the top open and tossed it aside - retreating as fast as his legs could carry him. However, nothing emerged. Not even a peep came from within. An uncomfrotable silence spread across them as they waited for what was within to come out. Casting uncertain glances amongst them, a soldier with a spear stretched his weapon forward and tapped the flat end of his spear against the crate throughly.
Nothing.
This caused some concern to begin to fill the frames of those who knew about the wights. They weren't truley dead were they from being out of the cold environment for too long, were they? Having enough of the tension, Sandor Clegane sighed heavily and strode up with a muttered ' Fuck it'. Positioning himself behind the crate, the large man took a quick breath in and out before delivering a powerful kick to the wooden box in order to send it tumbling over.
In that moment did five screeching, chained skeletal dead men come pouring out and sprinted straight each of the figure heads present ironically. All those outside of Jon and Ranta flinched or scrambled in their seats as the creatures neared.
The respective guards stood before their leaders, weapons drawn and mid way to lashing out with the variety of blades before the dead monsters were suddenly jerked backwards - sent sprawling onto their backs. Shaking their heads, one by one the creatures rolled over and then stood to their feet at the sight of Sandor Clegane and the Dornish men standing there. "For fuck's sake." the Hound muttered and drew his blade, leading the others behind him to do the same.
The burned man had cut down the closest wight to him clean in half though it continued its screeching and wriggling about- much like its' companions who soon met a similar fate. No matter what body parts were chopped off, those in the pit quickly learned that these monsters would only keep coming as best as they could. Satisfied with everyone finally seeing what was truly coming for them, Jon and Davos moved forward in tandem - the king's right hand lighting the torch in his hand before stepping back.
"We can destroy the wights and whitewalkers with fire." Jon lowered the torch and set aflame a screaming corpse. "Or with dragon glass." he then reached into is belt and pulled out a series of obsidian throwing knives, implanting a knife into each of the remaining wights to end their caterwauling. "If we don't ban together right now then that is the fate of everyone in the world." Jon pointed to the dead wights as the Dornish men slowly made their way back to prince Oberyn's side.
" There is only one war that matters, the Great War and it is here." the Stark finished gravely. "How many?" Jamie asked after a long silence. Jon however could not answer this and therefore looked to Ranta, Missandei and Daenerys. "One hundred thousand at the very least" Dany provided. " Not all die by fire." Ranta intoned. "Some do not fear it, not even dragon fire." she then shook her head, "We can only hope that those who do not fear fire can be killed with the dragon glass"
"And if they aren't?" Olenna asked. "Then we're all fucked." Daenerys answered blatantly. The sound of a chair scraping against the ground suddenly sounded, causing eyes to fall upon Euron Greyjoy as he stood and approached a fallen wight. Crouching down, the scarred man lightly fingered the dead creature's dry hair thoughtfully. "Can they swim?" Euron asked. "No." Jon answered. "Good." the Greyjoy then stood.
"I'll be going back to my island then to wait out Winter." he said and began to walk away but didn't get more than five steps away before Cersei's voice drew him to a hault. "You're what?" she asked as if she didn't originally hear him correctly. "I'm going home, your majesty." Euron repeated louder. "Been all over the world and seen all kinds of things but nothing like that. That terrifies the hell out of me" he pointed to the corpses with a shake of his head. "I'm not going to be dealing with them either." Euron declared.
"And when the sea freezes over and an army of undead soldiers come knocking on your door?" Ranta asked. "At least I'll know that I've had one hell of a run. All I request is that none of you go for my face." Euron quipped before beginning his walk out of the dragonpit once more.
"No one here can blame him for being afraid." Cersei then spoke, "But we can all agree that he is coward for running. He flees with his tail tucked between his legs during a time where we must stand together and face a common enemy." she slowly looked from one lord and lady to another before finally settling on Ranta. "You can have your truce. Until the Northern threat is dealt with, all hostilities will be put on hold." the lioness nodded once.
A large breath of relief flowed through the others at the declaration of this, they largely began to things were beginning to look up when Cersei suddenly spoke again. "The King of the North will extend this truth however."
The hope everyone had then came crashing down in that moment.
"He will remain where he's always been- in the North. He will not pick up arms against Lannister forces, he will not pick sides. He and his people will turn their heads the other way when it comes to the following war."
Jon shifted on his feet from side to side under the lioness' gaze. "I only ask it of you because you are Ned Stark's son. A man true to his word." Cersei mused through narrowed eyes. She wasn't the only one who looked upon him either. All envoys from the respective major kingdoms looked to Ned's bastard in earnest, wondering what he would say. And why wouldn't they?
Jon was the only loose end in the War for the throne.
"I am true to my word." Jon nodded, " I try with all I have to be at the very least" he acknowledged and then paused once more, eyes rolling over everyone gathered before finally landing on the blue haired queen who had secretly captured his attention since first meeting on Dragonstone. "And that is why I cannot serve two queens." Jon finally said, tearing his eyes off of Ranta and meeting Cersei's head on.
"You both sent for my fealty and both times I have refused. Queen Ranta has since then given me an option. Either I swear fealty to her when she marches on the North - or be wiped out on the spot in the coming storm." Jon's voice carried on the wind and it was in the following moment did all question if they were hallucinating collectively, for the wolf king of Winterfell had fallen onto one knee before the deadly Storm.
"...And it is there, in the North, before all the lords and ladies gathered will I show fealty to Queen Ranta Naylor as I show you all now."
Least to say, the rest of the meeting did not go smoothly after Jon's declaration. It had completely collapsed on its self after Cersei had effectively renounced her former claim to help in the war efforts and stormed off after threatening to 'take care of what's left of the rebellion after the Great War'. Cersei had not been the only queen thoroughly pissed off though.
Ranta had been practically spitting fire as she served a thorough tongue lashing to her Hand near the pit walls, away from everyone. "You are my Hand, I am supposed to be able to trust you with my life and here you are keeping secrets from me!" the monarch had been saying.
It was nearly the end of her tirade against the Lannister dwarf, her energy levels not being anywhere near where they should of been. "Your grace-" Tyrion tried but was harshly shut down. "Do not interrupt." Ranta glared, " My patience is already thin, especially with you Tyrion!"
Though they were some distance away, the conversation could be heard by the others nearby.
"I have never seen her so angry." Missandei whimpered, "Our grace has never lashed out on one of us, not like this." she frowned. Jon's sharp ears picked up on the translator's gentle voice filled with worry. "Give her a second and I'm sure she'll be doing the same to you, me and Varys." Jorah also frowned along side with her, the master of whisperers himself on her other side.
"Daario will get his fill as well once she sees him, no doubt." Varys said knowingly. "She warned us what would happen" Missandei's hands were tensely clasped around each other with the harsh whisper that escaped her lips. " Keeping information from her is treason...she warned us there would be no mercy the next time it was committed against her." Missandei fretted heavily.
"If it's any consolation," Varys chimed attempting to sound optimistic but even he wore a heavy frown. "It would be a waste to kill us now. We'll need every person possible for the upcoming war." the man said. "So you're banking our survival merely on the fact that we will need numbers?" Missandei turned and glared lightly at the bald man.
"What will be needed are fighters, Daario and Jorah may be spared on that logic - but you, me and lord Tyrion won't be. We are not fighters." she argued. " I don't think it matters if you are fighters or not." Jon chimed in, unable to resist speaking up. "Behind every fight is a strategy, right? So while you may not be fighters - you are strategists, equally as important…..but besides that, I do not she would truly do anything to cause physical harm to any one of you. What was it that was withheld?" Jon asked.
"Yara's capture."
Jon faltered at this but still remained hopeful. "I still think the lot of you are thinking too much into it." he said simply before moving off to run interference between the monarch and the rest of her advisors, Tyrion passing him with a somber expression on his face. "Your grace?" Jon called once within close proximity. "What can I do for you, Jon Snow?" Ranta asked absently, running a hand over her mouth tiredly.
Her mind was racing as she thought of what she was going to do about the much needed Greyjoy rescue. "I figure you would need a break from verbally lashing your advisors." he said truthfully. "You do realize, you've partially fucked us right?" Ranta said instead of remarking on his comment, more beads of sweat were upon her brow. "Consider yourself lucky I already know how to make up for Cersei backing out on us." Ranta looked to Jon.
"And how's that?"
However Ranta then took the moment to look at Jon pointedly. At first he didn't get it, but when he did, the northern man flushed, flustered that he hadn't picked up on the obvious right away. "I'm not promising that this will be an easy one sided war even with all of us using our gifts." Ranta said lowly. " I wouldn't expect it to be." Jon returned.
"Especially with so many around, we'll have to be careful…" the woman then trailed off. In either war - the one against the Night King or Cersei, the Naylorians would have to be cautious when unleashing their powers. "Maybe we can still try to get her on our side," Jon mused. "I seen Brienne talking with Jamie just before he left, they seemed close. Maybe she convinced him to say something to Cersei." he trailed off hopefully.
"Brienne?"
"The really tall blonde woman."
"Ah."
A breif silence fell between the two as each of them thought of something to say, Ranta though figuring something out soon enough. "Did you know that we Naylors were the beginning of the end of the Targaryens? Possibly of Westeros?" Ranta mused, motioning to the structure around them. "We entertained Aegon's conquest and look how that turned out for everyone since then." the woman huffed.
"I believe the world would be a lot worse than it is now if your family hadn't been there to keep the Targaryens in check." Jon said thoughtfully, " I think it would also be a lot better had they stuck around after the Baratheons took over." he then caused Ranta look to the northern man with a tilt of her head. "But your father was the Hand to Robert Baratheon." she said slowly.
"And what a good king he convinced Robert to be." Jon quipped. He didn't like to speak ill of his father but Jon did have to admit that perhaps if the Naylors were with him when dealing with Robert Baratheon, things could of turned out different. Perhaps the Lannisters wouldn't have gotten the chance to steadily weasel their way into power and morph the country into the shape it is now if the gifted family had stuck around. Despite Jon's reasoning, Ranta still depicted a doubtful expression.
"Though I suppose what they could of done doesn't matter anymore. It's what you and the others will do now to turn the country into something better after their long absence." Jon expressed. Ranta blinked and looked to the larger male incredulously, where was this thinking and belief before?
"Well I couldn't just up and show my belly right away." Jon said as if reading her mind, "I'm a Stark - I had to show some resistance."
"..."
"..."
"You're an ass, do you know that?" Ranta asked dryly, much to Jon's humor. "Yes, I may or may not have been told that once or twice in my life." The northern man's amusement was contagious and soon Ranta found herself chuckling along side him, both sets of eyes dancing with mirth as they looked to one another fondly. "If you two are done looking lovingly into each other's eyes, we could use you over here." Olenna's sharp voice came.
Turning their heads in tandem over back to where the rest of their party was and seen many eyes upon them expectantly. " I am a full grown woman and yet Olenna can still make me feel like a child, ridiculous isn't it?" Ranta murmured lowly as they walked side by side back to the center of the pit. "I think she makes everyone feel like a child, she certainly hasn't lost her sharp tongue over the years." Jon mused just as quietly.
"How may we serve you, lady Olenna?" Ranta said a bit mockingly once they reached the others. "By telling us what's our next course of action." the old woman said plainly. "Your Hand clearly has a death wish, he wants to go after Cersei and try to convince her to change her mind." Olenna reported.
At this, Ranta looked to Tyrion incredulously, "Have you lost your mind?" she questioned. "I did not come all this way just to watch you walk to your death. We knew there was a possibility she wouldn't work with us. We'll just have to deal with the Night King with out Lannister assistance." Ranta looked from one person to the next.
"Which is how exactly?" Daenerys asked, causing the monarch to pause momentarily. "We'll split our troops up in half." she ran a hand over an eye brow. "With everyone on Dragonstone divided up, I can send about fifty seven thousand to Winterfell. Fifty thousand Dothraki, six thousand Unsullied, and a thousand Second sons. The pirates will be of no use up there so they'll remain behind." Ranta informed.
"Twelve thousand at the most if I am to still have men to defend the Reach from Cersei should she try anything." Olenna provided next. " Double that." Oberyn granted in regard to his own men.
"Which is fantastic, but neither of you will be sending men to the North to fight." Ranta declared, much to everyone's shock. "You said it yourself lady Olenna, Cersei may attempt to try something now knowing my attention won't be focused on the war for the throne. I'm going to need men to help fend off any advances, which is what you and Oberyn will be doing while I'm gone." the monarch instructed.
"I was just telling Jon that House Naylor and I will have to pick up the slack. I'll have some women deployed to your lands as well to help with defenses but perhaps not as many as you may hope." Ranta looked to Oberyn and Olenna as she said the tail end of this. "If you throw the dragons and snakes into the North then the playing field will be evened out at least." Jorah mentioned.
"More specifics should be discussed later." Daenerys spoke, "For now I would prefer if we got out of the lions' den while we still can." she unashamedly cast a wary eye about. "Sounds good enough to me." Olenna agreed.
One by one the groups of the respective kingdoms began to move out, those of Dragonstone bringing up the rear. "Y-your grace…" a timid voice sounded in Ranta's ear. Turning her head, Ranta came face to face with Theon. "My sister?" he gulped. Face softening, Ranta placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked. "She will be saved, I promise. Do you know where Euron would keep her?" the queen asked. "With him. His ship's the largest out of the Iron Fleet." Theon provided.
"That's good to know," Ranta nodded, " but for now we can't act on it. Tensions are high and with everything that happened today, Cersei and Euron will be on high alert. I know you won't like it but, you'll need to at least wait a week before setting out for Yara. I'll have Tarla lend you some men to help in addition of those who follow you and your sister." Ranta explained and true to her suspicions, Theon didn't look happy with what she said but eventually nodded.
"It's the safest way to go about this Theon." the woman said nonetheless. "I know, your grace. I just wish I hadn't run you know? I abandonded her, lost our ships, and Casterly Rock." Theon deflated more and more which each statement.
"War is ugly and terrible things happen in it. The only thing we can do is think of how we will overcome them." Ranta advised, "I don't want you to fret over your supposed failures, I want you to think of your victories to come. Euron will regret capturing your sister, I promise you." she assured.
0o.0.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0.o0o.
"Maester Roberd, do you have a moment?"
Looking up from his readings, the aged man startled in his chair and scrambled to his feet at the sight of the monarch. He knew she and the others had returned to Dragonstone a bit ago but he didn't expect her to arrive in the healing ward.
"Of course, your grace. What is it that I can help you with?" the aging man asked, the dim lighting of the healing quarters didn't bother either occupant. They had long since gotten used to Dragonstone's lack of light. "What are the typical signs of a person having a stomach flu?" Ranta wondered.
"Well there could be watery stool, fever, vomitting, muscle aches, headaches and stomach pain" he listed. The monarch had to cross that off the short list of possibilities of what was ailing her, she only had one of those symptoms; stomach pain. Very bad pain. "Well I don't think I have that." she said doubtfully.
Roberd's ears perked at this. "You are not feeling well?" he came up and wrapped an arm around the young queen. "Sit, your grace, what are your ailments? How long have they been bothering you?" he motioned to the bed and watched as she tenderly sat herself down, her face morphing into one with pain as she did so.
"Since about a few days after Ser Barristan's rescue. I have stomach pain - it's like my insides are on fire." Ranta began, " I'm really hot too, I can't stop sweating. I'm also...seeing spots." the woman trailed off sluggishly. "Your grace?" Grenn fretted. "Spots, blurry spots." the healer watched as a cloud settled over the pretty eyes of the queen when she said this.
"I...I don't feel good." Ranta whimpered pathetically, folding in on herself. She could hear her heart beat in her own ears and her head was now pounding with the onslaught of abrupt pain she was feeling.
Faintly, it registered in her mind that the maester had layed her down to stare up at the rocky ceiling above as he set about working on her at a brisk pace. Pressing a hand to the monarch's forehead, the healer frowned at the burning heat that radiated from her frame.
Fever and abdominal pain meant that something internally was going on. Scurrying over to his stores, the maester brought out a variety of ingredients; bilberry, willow, boswellia and black haw. All herbs that did wonders for anti-flammatory and fever reducing purposes. Roberd also made sure to add in a splash of milk of the poppy in the mixture of his concoction.
"What's the matter with me?" Ranta croaked. "I'm not sure, my queen, but I'll figure it out." the elder said determined, mixing the herbs together with more feavor. "With your fever and stomach pain, it has me admittedly concerned. Internal ailments are not easily diagnosed and therefore tricky to treat, but in all my years in this profession - I haven't been stumped yet." he flashed what he hoped was a confident smile.
Peppermint, sage, rosemary, bee balm and oregano was the next combination he created- all ingredients used in cooking but the antitoxidants in the herbs were incredible and was what most poisons were treated with when the poison was unknown. It was also the next thing the healer had placed next to the monarch's head along with an additional serving of the milk of the poppy.
Before he gave either concoction to the woman though, the maester grabbed a blade and glass cup and approached the monarch. "Your arm, your grace, I need to drain your blood into a cup so I can preform multiple tests on it for examination." Roberd explained.
Slowly Ranta brought out her arm for the healer to cut into, wincing when the blade cut into the crook of her elbow and blood began spilling into the cup the maester held down below the bed she rested on. Occasionally Roberd would squeeze the meatier part of her arm above the cut to make the blood flow faster into the cup, earning an uncomfortable grimace from the monarch but otherwise she said nothing.
Once the glass had been filled to a satisfactory level, the maester wrapped the cut in a bandage and allowed the monarch to bring it back to her side before helping her drink the concoctions down plus the milk of the poppy. "Just rest for now, my queen." the elderly man bid, with a gentle pat to her head before taking her collected blood and bringing it over to his work station.
There were only but a two tests the maester could run on the blood to see what was wrong. He could test for blood infection just through mere observation of the color and smell - determining that she was suffering from her old wound that was not healing properly. Or he could test the blood for the presence of poison.
Though with the rememberence of what was ailing the monarch, Roberd began testing for poison instead. Every good maester had a stash of poisons on him for one reason or the other and Roberd was no different.
Tears of Lys, Basilisk's Blood, Sweetsleep, Wolfsbane, Manticore Venom, The Longfarewell….and so on and so forth. For each poison vial did he deposit some blood into and watch to see what would happen to it in order to try and determine which poisoned blood capsel matched the main supply. Test after test the maester went through a variety of emotions that made his head spin. Though when the final test was conducted, he wasn't sure what he felt.
Looking over his shoulder, Roberd noted that the queen was now out cold and dead to the world though her face was still twisted up into an uncomfortable grimace - depicting that the medicine hadn't quite kicked in yet. Placing a wet cloth on her head at the least, the maester then snuck out of the healing quarters and to the war room where he knew her closest confidants were to be.
Briskly walking through the castle, the healer arrived to the war room just in time to catch the middle of a debate between Jorah Mormont and Jon Snow. "I really think the best course of action for all of us is to ride to White Harbor together with the Unsullied. The Dothraki can ride the Kings Road hard and they'll reach us within two weeks, from there at the port we'll ride to Winterfell together." Jon presented to the men and women present.
"Flying may be the better option." Jorah countered. "For our Queen and Khaleesi both. They'll be prime targets easily spotted with their hair color alone." he told Jon. "Us traveling seperately won't send a good message to the Northerners, you know that." Jon argued to the Mormont. "I rather have them safe than worrying about if it sends a good message or not." the bear refused to give leeway to the newly submitted wolf.
Missandei, Grey Worm, Daenerys, Tyrion, Varys and Daario remained silent as the northern men verbally battled it out. However before they could continue, the maester rushed in. "My lords, and ladies." Roberd cut in sharply. "You must come with me" he reported. "What?" Daenerys quirked a brow. "To the healing ward, quickly." Roberd insisted.
"The queen's been poisoned."