A/N:
SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT!
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Her dear sister.
The one thing Daenerys truly held close to her heart.
Her rock.
Guardian.
Protector.
It wasn't right what had happened to her. Nor was it fair.
After the discovery of the ill monarch, Daenerys had rightfully instructed an immediate gag order on everyone. No exceptions. Though none of them opposed, it didn't need to get out that Ranta Naylor of all people was in danger of falling to poison. Chaos would break out if it did.
In respect to the gag order, the Storm Queen's confidants had to put on a face for the crowd. Tyrion most of all considering his position.
"The queen is busy capitalizing on strategic placements in the North." Tyrion would say time and time again to those who sought the queen out.
" Missandei and Daenerys are helping her as representatives of the Unsullied, and Dothraki alike respectively. It gives our beloved captains of said units the opportunity to train and prepare their men as best as possible, adjusting when new developments arise. Whatever message you need to give to our queen, I will see to it that it is delivered."
It had satisfied them for the most part, but there were times where a little extra convincing was needed and that was when Varys' smooth tongue would jump into the fray and seal the deal. The duo also worked together to send plenty of letters back and forth to their allies in the mainland, conversing on what agricultural supplies they would need from the Reach and what materials they would need from Dorne - weapons, armor and medicinal use wise.
Olenna had understandably thrown a written fit when the dwarf requested aid with food. 'How in the name of every old god and new am I supposed to feed over fifty thousand of your cockless, half baked and, savage war mongers in addition to five beasts!?' The dwarf would be able to recall in one letter in particular, along with some other cruel insults that naturally came with her sharp tongue as she further complained about feeding the Unsullied, Second sons, Dothraki and the queen's children.
However it couldn't be helped. Food from the Reach would sooner reach them than food from the cities of the liberated Slaver's Bay and it was as simple as that.
Oberyn thankfully was easier to negotiate with and not hard to get to comply, though he did slip in his complaints about being left out of the fight for now. Regardless of complaints and the number of letters exchanged, Tyrion still made it work.
With he and Varys at the helm, the Lannister liked to think everything was being handled as smoothly as it could of been. Jorah, Daario, Grey Worm and the elder Ser Barristan who was finally well enough to get on his feet and move again were all handling training with the men. The only thing Tyrion desperately wished for was a speedier recovery of his lady Ranta.
It burned his soul not knowing when she would awake and despite the late night visits he would pay her unconscious form with the spy master, his worries refused to fade.
"Stand aside, Tyrion Lannister."
Grey Worm was not amused.
Not in the least, and why should he be? Where was the humor in this situation that the dwarf apparently found if the weak upwards twitch of his lips was anything to go by.
The queen was poisoned. Poisoned, out cold and put into a medically induced sleep by the maester so she could heal with no interruptions.
Grey Worm was sure with every fiber in his being that this wouldn't have happened if he had been by his queen's side. Maybe he could of then convinced the monarch to send him to Ser Barristan's rescue instead of taking it into her own hands. She would of never had gotten injured if he had been there for her as he sworn to be on the day she liberated him and so many others of Astapor.
Failure.
That is what he was.
He had failed his queen, the woman he owed everything to. All he had to do was get her to the throne so many slaughtered each other over and made sure she kept it until she remade the world like she has done in Essos. Grey Worm used to have every ounce of confidence in himself that he could be the soldier he was trained to be.
His resolve to do so had even doubled after his first technical failure to protect her when they had been on the way to Mereen. When that had happened, Grey Worm had sworn to himself he would never allow such a thing to happen again.
So much for that.
Now she lay helpless at the mercy of the greater powers beyond this world.
"You know what the maester said, Grey Worm." Tyrion attempted to pacify, "Our queen needs rest. No disturbances ...even though she is medicated, he doesn't want to take risks of her waking up." Tyrion reminded.
" I know what the maester said." He glared down at the little man guarding the door that lead to the Naylor. Grey Worm didn't miss the wine bottles scattered about his little set up he had created to keep himself comfortable outside the door until his duties as Hand called for his attention. "I just do not care. This would of never happened if I had been by her side." The stoic man said stiffly before promptly pushing past Tyrion and barging into the healing quarters.
"You can't-!" Tyrion started but cut himself off with an exasperated sigh but didn't follow after the Unsullied captain. Admittedly storming into the room, Grey Worm had not been surprised to see his queen's motionless form had been kept company by an eerily still Missandei and Daenerys.
Neither Targaryen or translator left their monarch's side and quite frankly it unsettled not only Tyrion but the others as well.
There were days when Daenerys wouldn't eat nor drink and there were days where it could be said the same about the former Naath resident herself. Missandei openly admitted that she sometimes couldn't remember if she ate anything or drank during the rare occasion she did speak. All they were concerned about was the blue haired woman waking up.
Walking forwards, Grey Worm stood next to Missandei and stared down at his queen with his hands held behind his back. Very faintly did he and five of his Unsullied brethern standing guard against a wall exchange stiff head nods in greeting before the captain's attention was diverted away. "Have you eaten?" He murmured lowly. Part of him doubted he would get a response and after a few moments of silence that part of the man had proven to be true.
It pained Grey Worm to see the woman he cared about in such a state. This wasn't the woman he had dared to say fallen for. It was a shell of her former self. "You must eat, Missandei," he took his eyes off of Ranta and rested them upon the translator.
" Our queen would be upset to see you like this" Grey Worm tried but didn't even get a blink out of her. "The maester will have to put you in a sleep like lady Daenerys if this continues." The captain warned but there was no indication that she had even heard a word he had said then either. " She had something earlier this afternoon." A familiar voice chimed in. Without glancing upwards, Grey Worm knew who it had been.
Jon Snow.
Grey Worm's fists clenched at the thought of the northerner. He had been more difficult to get rid of than Daario, sniffing after his queen's unconscious form and waiting for her to awaken like the rest of them. To most he had been near forgettable with how low key he had been ever since the queen's diagnosis.
Though not female or as tuned out as the former were, Jon Snow was also a constant inhibitor of the ward. He didn't press himself beside her cot as Dany or Missandei did, nor starve himself of food or water. The Stark simply watched from afar by the door, only slinking forward when the dead of night came and it was then did he allow himself a light caress of her face glowing in the moon light or to hold her hand until the dawn came again before he returned to his post.
As for his right hand, Jon had sent Davos home earlier after being sworn under oath to keep silent about anything happening on Dragonstone by Jon himself.
"Go home Davos," Jon uttered quietly, watching the trio of women rest as best as they possibly could. The seasoned man had posted with the Stark in the room by the door for a majority of the time, often doing food and water runs for them all even if it was a fruitless effort sometimes. "What?" Davos whispered back, his eyes also on the women.
"We haven't sent word back home of how Dragonpit went and what comes now. They'll need to know." Jon said simply before slowly tearing his eyes off of Ranta. "Find Tyrion. Wake him if need be and tell him you need a ship and a horse to go back to Winterfell immediately." Jon instructed.
"You'll keep silent of recent developments on the queen and me bending back at the pit. All they need to know is that Cersei will not send men to fight with us but Ranta Naylor is and has put her quest for the throne on hold because of it. Make sure every member of the North knows of this." He informed.
"What of you?" The onion knight asked. "I'm going to stay behind and sail North with them. I may not have been able to convince ser Jorah that my reasoning behind traveling together but maybe I can convince her once she awakens." Jon replied. Davos nodded once solemnly and stood to his feet, casting one more glance to the incapacitated Naylor before leaving the room in a quiet hurry to do as commanded.
Grey Worm didn't understand the interest Jon held for the monarch, even dating to the past encounters they had with one another. The wolf bastard kept most interactions professional, with the occasional joke, but there was always that look in his eye.
Longing, and pure interest. Longing for what, an interest in what? With a clenched jaw, Grey Worm briefly jerked his chin up in recognition in what Jon had said before clamming up. As if sensing this, the dark haired man sighed in resignation. "Why do I get the feeling that you don't like me?" Jon questioned of him.
The wolf did not recieve an answer.
"I have knelt to the queen, you should be relieved." the Stark said as a matter of fact. Nothing. Huffing, Jon stood up and approached, moving to the otherside of Ranta's bed so that Grey Worm was kept at an arm's reach yet was still within sight.
"I dare say even grateful or happy. Just a bit. At least somewhere on the inside." Jon suggested dryly. More silence. The duo had then fallen into a battle of heated glares so intense that neither noticed a certain pirate had slunk in. "A dog and a wolf ready to tear each other open, now that's funny." Tarla's amused chuckle snapped them out of it. "You would think they'd get along." the duo watched the brunette saunter up beside them as if she owned the place.
Clearly Tyrion hadn't been able to stop her from entering the room either, though if he even tried was debatable. "What's the matter, runt?" Tarla cooed to Jon. "Doggy doesn't want to play nice?" she laughed. "Well, don't take it personally. This mongrel doesn't play nice with anyone outside of his queen." Tarla simpered, taking ahold of Grey Worm's chin and gave it a shake before the man ripped himself out of her grasp.
Such an act caused a chuckle to bubble through the brunette's lips, "You see?" Tarla quirked a brow playfully before her eyes fell down to her cousin. Tisking lightly, the pirate leader sobered and shook her pretty brunette locks. "Reckless." She chided, "What are we going to do with you?" The woman asked herself.
Reaching into a pocket of her breeches, Tarla pulled out a couple flower seeds - three in total. Clenching her fist, a glowing green light shined through the few cracks of her fingers for a seconds before fading away as she unclenched her fist and opened her palm to reveal the small being of nature slowly break free of its shell and grow upwards.
Two flowers were similar in color pattern, though varied in shapes. While they were both white with pink centers with elongated centers, one had rough petals and the other smooth. The other was a pretty light pink color with a darker center and smooth edges as well.
Fingering the two whites and pink flowers, Tarla positioned each flower on Ranta's chest and tilted them towards her nose. "Cherry plum," she pointed to the smooth edged white flower in particular, "Impatien, and white chestnut." Tarla told him next. "Impatiens release tension from the body built from impatience and anxiety," she looked to the pink flower.
"Cherry plums are responsible for relaxing and letting go, helps the physical and emotional systems. White chestnuts calm the mind and chase away unwanted thoughts." the pirate explained.
"If I had any say in how things were run around here, I would be having every last one of you bastards sniffing these flowers until your noses fell off." Tarla stared unimpressed at the duo. "The amount of dismay you lot are in is pathetic." she said bluntly, turning to look at Daenerys' blonde head. "Especially you, little moon." Tarla narrowed her eyes on the Khaleesi for a moment before exhaling harshly.
The brunette rubbed her forehead tiredly at the thoughts plaguing her mind. " I have to go. I only came to pass along information about my where abouts. If my cousin wakes up soon, tell her she'll be down a handful of ships..." Tarla stated that last bit with little conviction. However, the woman hadn't been able to leave before the door was flung open once more - so hard that it had hit the wall and jiggled with recoil.
The violent entering had put the group of men and woman into a defensive state, all of them reaching for the weapon at their individual waists. Jon, Tarla and Grey Worm stood protectively around Ranta, Daenerys and Missandei while the Unsullied guards stood around the three upper able bodied warriors.
However, soon they had quickly recognized that said aggression was unnecessary. The intruder had been none other than Daario and soon after Daario came Jorah, a stumbling Tyrion, and a slightly hunched Varys. Exhaling harshly, Grey Worm relaxed the grip on his knife and returned to his previous stance- causing the rest to do the same.
"Why is it," Tyrion simpered. "That no one here seems to understand that our queen needs rest." he grouched, leaning against the door frame with wine bottle in hand. "She's had plenty of rest." Daario said in a clipped tone. "It's time for her to wake up. Where is the maester?" Daario charged forwards towards the blue haired woman but his path to her had been cut off by Grey Worm.
Daario's eyes narrowed onto Grey Worm's steely brown ones in a much returned heated glare."Move." the sellsword growled lowly. "Leave her be." Grey Worm returned evenly. Stepping forward, Jorah placed a hand in between the duo with a pinched face. "Now is not the time for this," he warned. "Oh, I think it's the perfect time. Why not weed out the rats while the queen is down and out?" Daario mused without taking his eyes away from the man going toe to toe with him.
None missed the unmistakable clench of Grey Worm's jaw or the way his fingers returned to the hilt of his dagger.
"Do it." Daario whispered knowingly with a smirk, "Let's see who's quicker to the draw, shall we?" his own hand wandered to the hilt of his own weapon. "I would love to see that." Daario visibly tensed when Tarla's voice purred in his ear and there was suddenly a pressure at the base of his spine. "Let's test it out, yeah? Do it." the woman parrotted the words right back at him.
Daario's seasonal changing eyes narrowed on Grey Worm though it was the pirate woman who held the blade to his back. He hadn't missed the additional weapons pointed at him courtesy of the other Unsullied in the room either. "Found yourself a bitch to add to your pack of dogs have you?" He murmured rhetorically. "That's enough." Jon Snow now stepped in sharply. "As Ser Jorah has said, now's not the time for this. There are more important matters to worry about." he looked to Daario in particular.
"More important?" the male brunette huffed incredulously. "Like what?" Daario asked. "Getting back Yara for one." Jon sighed, "I reckon Ranta's not going to want to have to worry about her while she's trying to fight the Night King when she wakes up." he pointed out. Tarla groaned in distaste at the very true fact being brought to light, " Don't remind me. I have Theon Greyjoy up my ass enough about that." she said impatiently.
"As a matter of fact, it's why I came here, that's the reason why I'm taking off - and now that the lot of you have done me a favor by coming here." Tarla looked to Jorah and Varys, "Tyrion doesn't have to play messenger boy on my whereabouts. Worked out pretty well actually...anyways, we'll try not to take too long." She assured.
"See you later, dog." Tarla then added to her impassive friend with a pat to the arm and then turned to make her way out. Once the pirate had disappeared the male dominated council was all that was left, not including the three incapacitated women. "You need to pull it together," Jorah looked to Daario, " You haven't been making anything easier on anyone since our Lady has gone under." he pointed out.
"Pull it together?" Daario blinked harshly, huffing out a laugh without humor. " I think I'm the only one who has it together right about now. While the lot of you have no problem with turning your heads away from the issue at hand and continuing on as if everything were normal - I'm actually trying to make things better." he argued.
"We aren't turning our heads away from anything." the Mormont denied. "This is how things work in Westeros." he stated."Tyrion is doing his duties as acting regant and making sure everything doesn't fall apart. The rest of us keep on going about as normal as usual to keep panic levels non exsistent outside this room." Jorah explained.
"Lot of good we've been doing then, Tarla isn't supposed to know. How did she even find out?" Daario questioned. "The maester needed her to help with the herbs necessary to treat the queen," Varys spoke up. "It was inevitable that she would find out." he said with ease.
"Why aren't we waking her up. The maester said the poison is gone." Daario proclaimed. "She still needs time to recover from the damage taken." Tyrion murmured. "What about the North?" the sellsword then tried and then his eyes fell onto Jon. "I'm sure you're more than ready to head out."Daario said knowingly.
"I am" Jon admitted, " but it'll do no one any good if we rush things. Especially not the queen." He stated.
" The northern folk have supplies on the way there at the least" the dwarf informed. "All that will be missing is us...if we must then we will march without the queen" he stated.
"How much longer will it take?" Daario asked however he was met with unsure looks. Sighing, Daario took a quick breath in before bellowing out for the old maester. The men heard the chains around his neck jingling before they saw him and when the healer did appear, he looked rather frazzled at the sight of so many in the healing quarters.
"How much longer until you can awaken her? Getting Missandei and Daenerys to snap out of it as well for that matter?" Daario questioned him without missing a beat. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, maester Roberd thought carefully about his answer.
"The toxins are gone as you all know, but the amount of damage its done to her organs are unknown. Wake the queen up too early and more damage can be caused with her moving about and using her powers and such. But I do know that time is of the essence to make your way North. She can be moved." the maester stated, moving forward and placed a hand on Ranta's forehead and adjusted the few flowers on her chest a bit closer to her nose.
"Can even be awoken, but to try and lower the chances of awakening her too soon I ask you wake her a week before making port in the North. It'll give our queen a chance to get used to being up and moving again. I can give you the herbs necessary to rouse her when the time comes." Roberd looked to the men.
"Lady Daenerys and Missandei can be brought back to reality any time really." he simpered, "Just when you do rouse them, tell both the queen will be fine. Otherwise they'll just fall back into the state dear Missandei is in now."
Pitying looks were cast in the two women's direction but comments were held in. "Any possible medicine needed for the queen, maester." Tyrion requested. "Would you gather them for us?" he asked of him. "Of course." the old healer agreed. Reaching into a pouch at his hip, he provided the dwarf with a small bottle of smelling salts to use on the Targaryen and Missandei before he disappeared deeper into the quarters.
"Now that you've successfully rushed us to our possible deaths, are you now satisfied?" Varys quipped to Daario. "Immensely." the brunette quipped in return. "That's enough." Tyrion cut the duo off and walked towards a blank Missandei. "Varys has a point though, now that the medicine will be brought forth-there's no reason to linger. Start loading the ships with the troops and left over supplies. We'll set out soon." he declared, waving the smelling salts under her nose.
A heart beat passed before an initial reaction occurred. Missandei's face twisted up in displeasure and snorted animal like, rubbing at her nose harshly. Blinking harshly, the usual fog in her eyes had cleared and comprehension took over.
"Welcome back." Tyrion smiled weakly before moving off to wake Daenerys. "Missandei," Jorah gently placed a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention. "Can you hear me?" he asked carefully. Ever so slowly did she nod, "I can hear you." she vocalized weakly. "Good." Jorah gave his own small smile. "Because you need to be with us now. Truly with us...we're setting off to go North." he informed her.
Blinking twice, Missandei continued to stare at him before her focus shifted over to Ranta. However the woman hadn't been allowed to look at the monarch for long before Jorah had grabbed her by her chin and forced her to look at him once more.
"The maester says she can be woken up soon. Don't worry about her, we must focus on the battle to come. We need you with us. Do you understand? You and Daenerys both" he pressed urgently. Missandei's brow furrowed slightly as she took his hand in her own and removed it from her person. "I understand." she assured, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing it from her grasp.
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"What do you mean Cersei won't help us?"
Bran Stark sat motionless as he usually did in his wheel chair. The wolf pelts on his lap and around his shoulders provided the usual comfort of warmth needed to inhabit the snowy tundra. If only his ears had been stuffed with fur to block out the useless blathering chatter coming from the people before him.
"I don't know how else you want me to explain it." Davos said in a clipped tone, standing before Sansa in the Great Hall. Arya and Bran vacated space on either side of the red head and the lords and ladies of the north had once again been summoned for this meeting.
"I can't phrase it any differently." Davos all but spat. "Cersei Lannister turned her back on our plea for help, even when shown multiple wights. Wights that nearly tore her to pieces, mind you, when they were first released from their confines." he reported.
As expected, murmurs from the crowd rose up but we're silenced when he began to speak again. "However, Queen Ranta Naylor has kept her word and remains by our side for the war to come. She sends even more supplies up as we speak and her armies will be here soon." Davos reported.
" Queen?"
It had been Lyanna Mormont who had said this and had stood up to her feet as she did so. The little bear was not afraid to make herself known. "You are pledged to our King," Lyanna stated harshly.
"Yet you-"
"I know wha' I said." Davos' flea bottom accent was thicker than usual as he said this. " And I meant it. When this war inevitably ends, hopefully in our favor, I know what comes next. The Storm Queen won't stand for any loose ends before going after Cersei. Say what you want about me. Call me a coward, a turn coat, a man with no honor or loyalty if you must." the onion knight listed.
"But house Naylor has never done me wrong, they were there for me when I was living down in flea bottom when I was younger. They helped my father put food on the table when times were tough and got me the connections I needed to become a sailor so that I could escape the life I had been living." Davos finished.
"You owe a debt to them." Bran suddenly stated softly, drawing all the attention onto him. "They never requested repayment, no." Davos shook his head. "So they helped you out of the goodness of their hearts." Bran stated knowingly. " I've had a similar experience with the Storm Queen myself when making my way back to Winterfell."
I understand your reasoning" He murmured aloofly before his eyes fell off to the side again, all but absently. "Regardless of whatever reasoning you have to switch factions after the war," Arya spoke up, breaking up further discussion on the topic. "The point is that she is coming, yes? That is what you said isn't it? With her armies" Arya looked to Davos imploringly as Lyanna slunk back into her seat though she was nowhere near happy that the conversation was dropped.
"Very much so." Davos nodded. "Then we do have some hope for all of us yet, house Naylor is reunited and they will follow after the Storm Queen in her ventures North." Arya looked out into the sea of people.
"We need them on our side" she said bluntly. "Now is not the time for petty things such as pride or loyalty. We have a bigger concern on our hands and if any of you were to insult or piss Ranta off while she was here ...what's to stop her from letting the dead kill us all and then make her move against them? Stories of her family's generosity? Living up to the Naylor name? I don't think so." Arya scoffed loudly into the silent room of men and women taking in what she had been saying with earnest.
"The Naylor queen's her own person, she's coming because she wants to and if I were in her shoes-coming to fight an enemy that is not my own, and was met with nothing but nasty looks or comments from the people whom I'm meant to save ...I'd let the dead take you out first and save myself the trouble." Arya stated evenly.
The meeting ended not long after. The Naylorian queen was coming and that was that. Men and women all shuffled out after one another to return home and to gather their people to meet back up in Winterfell. It was during all this shuffling did Davos notice Brienne lumber up to his side. "Sir Davos." she greeted lowly as to not be over heard, the duo watching everyone leave.
"Brienne" the elder returned. "I noticed how you didn't mention a certain event in the pit." the woman said casually. "I've been given instructions to let Jon handle that. It would be best that he do it anyways, wouldn't you agree?" Davos quirked a brow.
"Regardless if he were to inform them of the North's submission, it won't go over well. Did you see how they reacted when you alone said you would bend to the Storm queen?" Brienne asked rhetorically. "Aye, it's going to be ugly...hopefully they'll remember Arya's words when the queen gets here." Davos acknowledged.
"Hopefully." Brienne murmured in agreement, pausing for a moment before continuing on. " They must get along rather well." She said. "Pardon?" Davos looked to her imploringly. "The queen and Jon. They've spent quite a bit of time with each other, haven't they? Jon didn't look particularly upset when kneeling, nor did he mind going south for lady Ranta." Brienne furthered.
"She's a good woman." Davos said neutrally. "It's hard not to at least respect her after spending as much time as we have with her. If you want my honest opinion, I do think Jon has a soft spot for the queen and vice versa in regards to him." The seasoned man said truthfully and little did they know, Petyr Baelish had overheard their conversation and had a devilish smile upon his face as he slunk back into the shadows with this chunk of information now in his midst.
Whisking through the stone hallways, it didn't take long for Petyr to track down Sansa who had been in the war room looking over maps half heartedly. "My lady." he called out to her. "Yes?" The redhead looked up from the maps. "By the gods do I have some news for you." Petyr smirked.
While the foxish man reported his findings into the redhead's ear, neither noticed the two youngest wolves of Winterfell watching this interaction with narrowed and unamused eyes. Arya's desire to slit the man's throat grew by the day and Bran merely frowned blankly. Exchanging looks, the duo silently exchanged thoughts in the process as well - of which were ways on how exactly to get Baelish out of the picture.
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"What the fuck is it with you people? You lot are like a rash that won't go away"
All he wanted was a moment of peace for two seconds and yet he couldn't even get that. Sandor glared heatedly at the eerily grinning group of people before him. Beric, Thoros and two women he had never seen before stood in front of the burned man. Though while he didn't know the names of the women...he did recognize what they wore. Hexagons. More Lord of Light followers.
"Come, Clegane. No need to be so hostile to friendly faces." Beric grinned naturally. After they had recovered from their adventures into the Dragonpit, Sandor had taken off unsurprisingly and found himself a little abandoned tavern to hole himself up in for the time being in the outskirts of Tumbleton in the Reach. He had thought he hadn't been followed but it seemed he was mistaken. "Friendly faces my ass." the man grumbled.
" What's the matter Clegane, did a little adventure tire you out?" Thoros teased as he strutted forwards and sat down at the table across from him. "You must be losing your touch, age finally wearing you down." the priest smirked, a stark contrast to the mean frown pulling on the solitary man's face.
"Fuck off." Sandor quipped. "Have the both of you got nothing better to do than bug me...and drag people along with you as you do it?" he looked to the women pointedly. "My dear friend, these are no ordinary people." Beric said good naturedly. "If you thought Thoros was good at what he does, then you should see what they can do." he hummed.
" Our lady to the right is High Priestess Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and the First Servant of the Lord of Light. To the left is Melisandre of Asshai, the Red Woman." Thoros introduced his fellow worshipers with all the respect in the world.
"My companions tell me that you have seen visions in the flames." Kinvara joined the conversation. "Clear ones that have allowed you to see where the Night King was nonetheless." she said calmly.
"What of it?" Sandor asked with a narrowed gaze. "The Lord does not allow just any person to gain something from the flames," Kinvara simpered, "For you to have gained these visions proves that he has things in mind for you, Sandor Clegane, and perhaps the Long Night may not swallow us all whole in the end." she finished. Blinking, the burned man looked to Beric and Thoros incredulously before scoffing and rising from the table.
"You two cunts love to ruin everything don't you?" the hound accused the duo, "I can't ever get a moment of peace without you two coming and sniffing around." he shook his head and made for the door, his bag of belongings nestled comfortably next to it ready to go. " Now just wait a minute Clegane," Thoros tried and grabbed a hold of the beast of a man's arm for a brief moment before Sandor harshly slapped his hand away.
"Don't you fucking touch me, top knot." the Hound spat, "Do it again and we'll see how many times you can keep bringing that fucker back to life without the use of your hands." he referenced Beric before whisking around and heading towards the door. He had a new place to find in order for him to shack up in. "You can run." Kinvara's voice stopped Sandor as he swung his pack over his shoulder.
"But you can't hide. One way or another, your destiny will find its way to you. Whether you chose to face it alone or with others is the true question." the priestess proclaimed. Pausing at the door, the sizable man hesitated before turning and looking to Kinvara. "What are you talking about?" he questioned. "It means what it means." the woman replied evenly as she then delicately stood to her feet and made for the door herself, moving past Sandor's larger frame with ease.
"Now are you coming, Ser Clegane...or shall we leave you to yourself?" the dark haired woman blinked slowly up at him through her eyelashes before continuing the opening of the door, came a blast of cool wind though it was something everyone in the room was getting used to. Melisandre followed after the her fellow worshipper without another word and while Beric and Thoros exchanged glances - they too followed after the two women.
Left to himself, the Hound stood in the run down building helplessly as he thought over what Kinvara had said to him and what it could of possibly meant. After a solid minute of contemplation, Sandor sighed heavily in defeat, muttering a curse under his breath before opening the door with a cry. "Wait!" he called out to the Lord of Light followers.
Outside were four horses mounted out of five and an all too giddily grinning Beric and Thoros.
"Wipe those stupid looks off your faces." the Hound grumbled, throwing his bag onto the rump of the riderless horse and securing it to the saddle. "What look? I have no idea what you're talking about" Thoros said innocently though all he gained in return was an exasperated eye roll. "Where is it exactly that we are going?" Clegane huffed as he mounted his horse.
"You tell us." Melisandre said from beside him, holding a seemingly empty wide bowl in her hands. Before he could question the reason for the bowl, a flame suddenly burst from it out of nowhere. The fiery red-orange flames caused a surge of fear to flare up within the burned man as it usually did whenever he was near flames.
"Tell us what you see, Ser Clegane." Melisandre requested, holding the bowl out for closer examination. Leaning back minisculely, Clegane looked between the flame and Melisandre with scrutiny. "Go ahead," Kinvara invited as well. Hesitating a moment longer, Sandor exhaled a breath of air through his nose before doing as the women wanted of him and stared into the small inferno.
"I see.." he trailed off, "The wall. It's been abandoned, the gate broken down" Sandor reported slowly. " The dead are marching through" Thoros and Beric exchanged worried looks though their women companions remained calm. "The northern castles and people are falling and numbers of the dead are growing. They keep pushing south and they only keep going…" the Hound's eyes seemed to cloud over as he watched a possible future play out before him.
"Dragons." Clegane breathed after a moment, "Dragons and basilisks….thunderbolts….the dead stopped marching but there are bodies everywhere. Pure chaos." after seeing this, the Hound suddenly blinked harshly and rubbed at his eyes roughly. With his gaze averted, the flame in the bowl extinguished itself without a trace. "When I spoke to the wolves of Winterfell and their bannermen, I meant what I said that day." Kinvara drew attention to herself.
"The North will fall - it was only a matter of how. Either they will perish in the Long Night, or they will perish in the coming storm brought forth by the Storm Queen. Only by submitting themselves to the coming Storm will they survive." she stated without a doubt in her voice. "So Ranta Naylor and those who serve her are the solution to the Night King and his army." Beric stated more than asked. "It is what we believe, yes," Melissandre chimed in.
"I too have looked into the flames recently," Kinvara stated. "Clegane and I seen something similar to one another. He said that the dead didn't stop marching until they were in the south, killing all in their path. I seen the dead be stopped in the south as well but their forces were weaker. Why do you think that is?" she wondered, thinking over the question herself for a moment.
"Why were we shown two different visions? Is it a warning of the two ways this war can go? Is the Lord of Light trying to advise us on how to proceed from this point on?" Kinvara rattled off.
"There seems to be a lot of questions and no fucking answers for the problem at hand." Sandor barked. "But there is." the red woman breathed in realization. " Visions do not show everything that is to happen in the future. Most likely we were shown the very beginning and end of the war, but nothing in the middle and no great details of any part of what was seen." Kinvara proclaimed.
"A set of symbols and incantations have been flowing through my mind recently, and you have said that you've seen the northern houses fall. This may be the solution to stopping the Night King." she informed.
"What do you mean, my lady?" Thoros asked. "Protection symbols and incantations." Kinvara clarified. "We can errect barriers with them to make the dead more managable - which would explain why they were lesser in my vision. But if we weren't to get the barriers up…" she trailed off. "Then we would end up with Clegane's vision, where the dead are many." Beric finished, fisting the reins in his hands a bit tighter.
"Precisely. Come my friends," Kinvara took a hold of the horse's reins and urged the animal into a walk. "We have much work to do" The priestess said stiffly, leaving her companions no choice but to follow afterwards one by one.
0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.0o.
Roughing up old men wasn't what Bronn did, but it's what he had been doing for a while now until he had finally gotten the answers he wanted. Although, he doubted what he had to report would please Jamie. There was a large amount of wild fire being made and brought up from the emergency caches around Kings Landing. Large quantities at the ready to unleash upon the Naylor's army and anything that fell between should they survive the Long Night.
Yes, Jamie would not be happy at all to learn what his sister was up to. Traversing through the keep, Bronn hadn't expected to run into Cersei's aged lap dog Qyburn. Coming to a swift halt, the middle aged man stared down the elderly one before him curiously. "Going somewhere, sir Bronn?" Qyburn asked knowingly. "As a matter of fact I am." the mercenary nodded factually.
"To report back to sir Jamie on the wild fire caches, no doubt." Qyburn stated, effectively silencing Bronn. "I know everything that goes on in this city and in extension, so does the queen. You having rather heated discussions with our alchemists haven't gone unnoticed." the old man proclaimed. "So where does that put us then?" Bronn exhaled.
"A rather awkward position I'm afraid, but not one without a solution." Qyburn simpered. "While there are some doubts that the living will defeat the dead, the queen cannot be too careful. She is prepared for the following war to come should the lot of them come to remove her from the throne. Unfortunately in this preparation, there are precautions that must be taken." he shrugged lightly.
"Ones outside of wild fire." Bronn stated more than asked. "Yes, outside of wild fire." the Hand said without missing a beat. "Whether she acknowledges it or not - Cersei's losing her brother. I know she can feel he's growing distant from her - from their family. I believe that a small part of her even suspects that he will be leaving to go North rather soon, especially in consideration to her refusal to help at the dragon pit." Qyburn stated.
"What's your point?" Bronn shifted on his feet. "Should Jamie leave to join the Storm queen and her allies, Cersei cannot have an outside man - the risk is simply too dangerous. It is bad enough that Mira Forrester got away from us, Tyrion too, there cannot be another." Qyburn said harshly.
"Every man has a price, especially mercenaries like you. I know you have a fondness for sir Jamie but I'm sure even that goes only so far considering you never recieved payment for your services." Bronn wasn't sure if he liked where this was going.
"Should Jamie leave, and should the queen confirm the order of it - you are to kill Jamie Lannister and Tyrion Lannister and bring back their heads. There would be a handsome reward in it for you if you did. Double what the brothers promised, I can assure you." Qyburn vowed.
Bronn swallowed the lump in his throat. "There are a lot of fucking should's in this proposition." he said lowly. "Precisely why it is a proposition, sir Bronn." the old Hand chuckled. "I'm simply putting it out there for you to think about as you run along and continue to do errands with a dead man walking….have a good day, we'll be in touch."
Qyburn bowed lightly and then proceeded to walk in the direction Bronn had just come from. Remaining in place for a good long minute, Bronn finally found it in himself to begin moving again to find Jamie. The one handed Lannister had been found in his room and was additionally greeted with the sight of the dirty blonde packing a bag and supplies. To go North no doubt.
"Bronn."Jamie started slightly after a split second of mental processing. "Where are you going, fucker?" Bronn asked before Jamie could get another word out. "...North. I'm not my sister, I cannot hide behind walls and pretend that there isn't a greater problem at hand. I have to at least try and fight for the living." It looked like Qyburn had been right after all.
"What did you find?" Jamie then asked and as requested, Bronn reported his findings - not that they pleased the Lannister in the least bit. Though after his report, Jamie noticed that Bronn had a particular look upon his face. "Are you alright?" he asked with slightly narrowed eyes and for the longest time Bronn had been silent until he had finally found his voice once more.
"...I'm just fine. Take care of yourself, cunt."