Arya Stark
Daario couldn't understand why this northern girl with the same hairdo as Jon Snow had been following him around so earnestly. It was disturbing.
Mainly because all she did was sit back at a distance and watched him work, whether it be sharpening blades or sparring with the people of Westeros to help them get ready for the battle.
She never said anything either, all she did was study him and every step he took. Was it some petty crush? An academic interest?
Whatever it was, Daario wished she would cease her strange ways.
"You've got yourself a little shadow." Cerran teased his captain, nudging Daario playfully. The two had currently been working on helping the blacksmiths forge weapons, putting the finishing touches on them.
"More like a stalker." Daario said dryly, putting up with the young woman's staring for a few more minutes before sighing heavily and slamming down a freshly made axe - blade first into the work table below him.
Arya remained motionless as Daario charged towards her, half heartedly throwing his hands out in exasperation when close enough. "Are you lost?" he asked rhetorically. "Quite ironic coming from you." Arya replied cooly, a small smirk gluing to her face.
"Haven't your parents ever taught you it was impolite to stare" Daario said instead. "Of course they have." Arya scoffed, "My mother specifically but then again, I never cared much for what she said." she said as a matter of fact.
Biting the inside of his cheek. Daario bit back a sharp retort and instead settled for maintaining a calm facade. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to treat a lady as rudely as you have?" Arya questioned back. "I never knew my father and my mother sold me as a slave to spend the rest of my days in the fighting pits for mere pocket change." Daario informed with a single quirked brow, "You'll have to forgive me if my manners are a bit off." Arya lost a bit of her verbal fighting spirit with the last statement.
"So the queen saved you then?" the brunette girl asked, more somber now. "No" Daario huffed a laugh, "I was so good at winning fights for my master that he let me go free after I made his pockets fat with coin. I haven't been a slave for many years now, long before I met the queen". Daario informed.
Interesting.
"What do you want from me?" Daario finally asked the girl. "Who said I wanted anything from you?" Arya shot back."So you've been following me and watching for no reason then?" the male shot her a doubtful look. "Everyone's been doing their fair share of watching and following in all things considered." the wolf simpered.
Staring at her for a long moment, Daario exhaled heavily and turned on his heel with intentions on going back to what he had been doing before. Faultering slightly at his abrupt departure, Arya followed hurridly. "You aren't like the other sell swords." she said in a rush. "No?" Daario replied half heartedly. "I've watched you. You aren't fighting like your supposed to when you work with the common people." the duo had made quick work to end back at the black smith station Cerran had held down with Gendry.
Not gracing the Stark with a responce, Daario picked up a hammer with intentions on getting back to work. "I want to spar with you!" Arya finally blurted out, stopping the man mid swing and effectively gaining the attention of the other two at the station.
Fidgeting slightly under their gazes, especially the handsome brunette's she had been hounding, Arya lifted her chin and repeated herself. "I want to spar with you." she repeated more calmly. Now that Cerran was sure he hadn't heard wrong, the man chuckled. Not that the thought of her fighting was funny, no not at all. He thought it was cute of her to request so.
"Arya..." Gendry trailed off, eyes flickering between she and Daario. "Excuse me?" the man himself questioned. "You want to spar with a man who you claim isn't fighting correctly in the first place?" he asked retorically. Swallowing the spit in her throat, Arya made haste to explain herself. "You're fighting like a Westerosi. You aren't Westerosi. I want you to fight like the Essosian man you are." she narrowed her eyes slightly as she said this.
"I fail to see why I would humor you in this request of yours." Daario said bluntly and was then nudged by Cerran. "Come now, captain. What can it hurt?" the Greengood smiled, highly amused with the whole situation at hand. "Entertain the girl before she meets her demise with the rest of us." the scarred blonde encouraged.
Daario thought it over for a few moments and when he opened his mouth to reply, Arya's hopes soared prematurley. "No." he said simply, crushing the young woman. "I won't have my head put on a platter because Jon Snow's sister wants to play soldier." Daario sniffed. "But I can fight!" Arya pressed, "Do you really think I would have made it this far if I couldn't?"
"I know nothing about you or what you've gone through so I couldn't speak to that even if I wanted to." Daario pointed out dryly. "Exactly my point." the wolf was relentless. "Arya," Gendry decided to step in. "Do you even understand what is coming for us?" He asked, looking to the young woman seriously. "Do you?" Arya shot back."Yes as a matter of fact, I do." the bastard glared lightly, annoyed that she didn't seem to be taking this seriously at all. This revealed fact though had peaked an interest within Arya.
"You do? What are they like then?" the brunette woman asked. "Bad." Gendry answered, leading Daario and Cerran alike to snort at the lackluster answer. "Bad?" Arya was just as unimpressed. "Even a smith's apprentice can do better than that." She quipped. "What else do you want from me? Bad enough that it's enough to cause the soldiers on the other side of the world to come together and fight them off." Gendry said sarcastically.
"Technically," Cerran pipped up, " the soldiers from the other side of the world came together to get the Lannister bitch off the throne and put the Naylorian Queen on it in her place." He commented rather unhelpfully in Gendry's opinion and in fact narrowed his eyes on the man. Cerran merely smiled devilishly in return, causing Daario to roll his eyes and nudge the dirty blonde away. " Go make yourself useful somewhere else." He commented with a dismissing wave of the hand.
Raising his hands in surrender, a smirking Cerran did as the brunette ordered and walked off. Watching him go for a few moments, Daario then looked back to Arya. Examining the young woman through a careful eye, the sell sword then picked up a handful of freshly crafted throwing knives and handed them to her. Wordlessly, Arya took them with a quirked brow and as equally silent, Daario proceeded to point at a hanging sign over one of the stations across the way before folding his arms over his chest.
'Miss the sign once and you can forget me sparring with you' was the unspoken message the man had given her. Fiddling with the blades in a testing manner, Arya determined the weight of the blades felt nice in her hands.
Flipping a blade in her hand a few times, she suddenly reared her arm back and launched it forward - sending the blade twirling in the air and then landing in the wooden sign up above. Daario remained neutral as she flung the rest of the blades with deadly precision in rapid succession. Satisfied with her performance, Arya stood back and placed her hands behind her back with a rather prideful smirk on her face.
"Daario."
The brunette man unashamedly jumped at the rather stern calling of his name that came from a familiar voice. "Khaleesi" he said, turning on instinct to address the woman and seen none other than Cerran standing by her side. Grinning like a fool nonetheless. "Cerran tells me you won't humor Arya and train with her." the Targaryen stated. A snitching fool in all actuality.
"I am busy." Daario said haplessly. Daenerys' eyes trailed upwards to see where the throwing knives lay in the sign and raised a brow. "Not busy enough if you have time to test her it seems." Dany said thoughtfully, examining the daggers appreciatively.
Swinging her head back towards the two brunettes, Daenerys gave the older one a rather unimpressed look. "Train her. Cerran will tell me if you don't." the blonde couldn't wipe the grin off his face that grew even more at this declaration. "I'm sure he will." Daario grumbled under his breath with a sidewards glance to the man in question, though Daario tensed when he caught sight of the Targaryen's quirked brow at his actions.
"As you wish, Khaleesi" Daario wisely nodded in submission. Humming in acknowledgement, Daenerys flashed a quick wink to a rather pleased looking Arya - who nodded in return- and left to focus back on what she had been doing before Cerran grabbed her attention as she was passing him by.
Once the horse lord Khal was well out of eye sight, Daario heartily punched his brother in arms in the shoulder with a glare. "You're childish. How did you even find her that quickly?" he demanded. "Mere coincidence that she was close by." Cerran grinned, rubbing his assaulted shoulder.
Clearing her throat pointedly, Arya put a stop to the conversation before it could continue. "I do believe the queen's sister gave you an order." she noted factually to the Sell sword captain. Huffing with a roll of his eyes Daario walked off, not caring that he didn't wait for neither Arya or Cerran. The duo however exchanged amused looks as they trailed after him, both pleased for their own reasons.
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"I'm glad you've come to understand it our way, we'll have word sent around that Lord Forrester will be leading the women, children and elderly to my southern territories."
Sansa was positively stewing at the moment and to be quite honest, Ranta found it amusing seeing as her petty side was rearing its head at the moment. What was the red head to do though? A queen and influential family members stood against her and Jon in the matter of where to put those who would not fight. It was a battle that the wolves rapidly lost once logic of the opposing views had been thoroughly punched through their plans involving the crypts.
It pissed Sansa off and Ranta loved it.
The monarch expected the woman to put up yet another fight against what Ranta had said but Sansa wisely shut her mouth and nodded her head in understanding. "Well this was relatively painless," Rodrik smiled knowingly, "And here we thought we'd have to rip out a few teeth to get you two to back down. Good thing you didn't." he mused. "Very wise." Melarie added on with her own dip of her head. Jon's lips quirked up into a tense smile, "Yes well," he exhaled heavily. "You make a strong argument." the northern bastard said simply.
'I'm not about to ruin the relationship between our families nor go against the queen with witnesses' went unsaid by the former king. "You're having a cripple lead our vulnerable away from danger despite the fact that the direction they're going in is not much better?" apparently Sansa however, was willing to ruin an ancient family relationship and deny the queen with witnesses present.
"Excuse me?" Melarie said with a heavily furrowed brow in turn for the monarch. Sansa didn't move to address the older woman though, her eyes remained rooted on Ranta who stared back evenly.
On the table between them was a map of Westeros and Sansa took care to use it during her next statement. "You claim moving them from the crypt is better, you would have Lord Rodrik move them through the Riverlands - which isn't in your control - and continue south until they arrive in lady Olenna's land? There is plenty of opportunity for the enemy to strike from here to there." Sansa argued.
"And their chances of survival are better here? Sitting in a crypt where people have been burried as the rest of us faces an enemy who can raise the dead?" Ranta returned, unamused. "At least we would be able to defend them - if you send them away, there will be no one to do that." Sansa . "The Lannister forces in the Westerlands and those in the Riverlands are the immediate threat, not to mention whatever troops Cersei sends from the capitol." the wolf stated.
"The Riverlands are filled with marshes of fat farmers and fishermen." Ranta recited what Rakharo had told her once during his travel through the country. "The forces in the Westerlands were taken care of-"
"You lost the Westerlands to Cersei with the retaking of what ever remains of Casterly Rock- she made sure to reclaim her homelands. Euron has resupplied her with soldiers to fill the vacancy there and beyond." Sansa said sharply. If only she had left well enough alone. "Has your little master whisperer told you that?" Ranta mused slowly, her fingers flexing and unflexing subconsciously. "I think what Sansa means to say," Tyrion jumped in, the dwarf having joined them when Ranta had flagged him down on the way to the room.
"Is that perhaps we could evacuate the vulnerable by boat. Around the territories instead of through it." Tyrion suggested. "And risk the ships running into Euron? I think not." Melarie declined his suggestion whole heartedly. "What if we send soldiers with them as an escort? Or a Naylor woman?" Tyrion then tried but the woman shook her head passionately. "We're out manned as it is, we need everyone that we have. Rodrik will lead them through the southern territories." she reiterated.
"Do you think of me ignorant?" Ranta suddenly whispered dangerously, the blue haired woman turning to the red head. "Ignorant to the fact that Dorne, the Reach and the North are the only ones sworn to me currently? Well have no fear, Sansa Stark, I am far from ignorant." Ranta hissed.
"The Westerlands, Stormlands, Riverlands and Crownlands will fall into place and remain in place once the threat here is over. If I have to cut a few leashes in order for some to run free so that they can ensure this fact then so be it." Ranta vowed in a steely tone, glaring at the red head.
Jon warily looked between the duo, disbelief palpable in regards to both of them. Tyrion himself was at a loss of words, Ranta hadn't made a threat like that in a very long time and by the look on her face it looked like she was all for allowing it to happen and no amount of council would convince her otherwise.
Sansas' own jaw clenched as she bit back a retort. The threat had been clear with out it being outright said. Ranta Naylor was not against the possibility of taking Daenerys Targaryen off the leash she held her on and give the Khaleesi permission to let her warriors run amok along with Drogon in order to get compliance.
"The vulnerable will travel with Lord Forrester without question, my queen." Jon tentativley broke the tense silence in the room. "The north will also offer physical aid to claim these lands after the Night King has been dealt with." he continued on as if trying to butter the monarch up.
Ranta though said nothing and simply turned and exited the room with Melarie and Rodrik following after. Jon was frozen momentarily before he snapped himself out of it and hurried to follow after the blue haired woman though not before he gave Sansa a murderous glare. Tyrion had remained behind in order to give the Stark woman a thorough verbal lashing at her brazenly stupid actions moments before for challenging the queen like that.
"Your grace!" Jon called after the Naylor, faintly noting that Melarie and Rodrik split off from her after this declaration.
The woman he focused on however remain unfazed and continued her walk. Jon hurried to keep pace. "Sansa runs her mouth when she shouldn't." he said uselessly,"But she only do so when she is concerned about her people." he portrayed. He got nothing at first and when he began to speak, Ranta had cut him off.
"I don't care that your sister doesn't like me." she said sharply, stopping abruptly and causing Jon to nearly barrel into her. "There are plenty of people that don't like me in Essos." Ranta continued on, "A majority of them are dead now of course but that's besides the fact. I don't need her to like me but she needs to respect me."
"Sansa does-" Jon cut himself off at the look Ranta gave him when he started to say this. "I am queen here." Ranta reiterated, "Not her, no matter how much she and Baelish wish it so." she sneered and then began walking again. Jon blinked as he processed what the woman had said and hurried back to her side. "What does that mean?" he questioned, causing Ranta to scoff and roll her eyes.
"You know what it means." she stated dryly but then had been pulled to a stop by the dark haired man. "No, I don't" Jon said truthfully, looking deep into the monarch's pretty blue eyes. "Explain it to me." he insisted softly. Sighing heavily, Ranta observed Jon for a long moment before giving in to his demands.
Backing up a few steps, she leaned against the wall and crossed her arms across her chest half heartedly. "Petyr Baelish does not rub me the right way, I had Varys dig up information and he told me that Baelish wants the throne with Sansa at his side." Ranta revealed
Jon's eyes widened slightly at this and found himself shaking his head. "That's not-" "It is Jon." Ranta stopped him before he could finish his sentence. "Sansa may have come to like her role as lady of Winterfell but that doesn't mean she wants to be queen - let alone one of Baelish." Jon denied, disgust in his eye at the thought of the older man preying on his sister.
"But it does," Ranta pressed, coming off the wall and grabbed an arm of his. "Why would she keep him around if it weren't true? Even if I were to grant you the fact that she may not want to be queen- she does want me out of the picture. That is as clear as day." the woman frowned.
"Did she say that?" Jon questioned, "Or did your Master of Whisperers tell you that too?" he ended with some bite in his tone. "I can see it." Ranta stated strongly, allowing her arm to drop from his own. "As I said, she doesn't need to like me but she does need to respect me. I can entertain a jab here and there but if she ever oversteps like she nearly did today…" Ranta trailed off meaningfully and then made to move off but Jon blocked her path.
"I'll keep her in line." he said softly, his wide brown eyes pleading with the monarch to believe him. Straightening, Ranta leaned forward and left little room in between them. "You can't be stuck to her side forever - Jon. Nor can you control her thoughts, no matter how much you believe it to be possible" she whispered, raising a hand and slowly brushing out a stray fuzz from his light beard.
"Maybe so but it's worth a try." Jon remained still under her intimate touch and dare say reveled in it. "People will forget what you say, even what you did... but never how you made them feel. How confident are you that you've made Sansa believe in you?" Ranta asked, not noticing that her hand had yet to fall from his face.
"I've made her feel jealous. Envious. Threatened. Those are the nastiest emotions a woman could possibly feel towards another. I am lucky that there were no women leaders in Essos otherwise I'm afraid my conquest would of been a bit more difficult in comparison to the prideful males that had stood against me." Ranta smiled bitterly, her hand finally falling and she walked off.
Jon remained where he stood for a few moments, thinking over recent events. Eventually he sighed heavily and rubbed his face tiredly, his feet moving him in the direction of the crypts to visit his father's grave. He needed to think.
Trotting through the snowy grounds of the keep, the monarch half heartedly did a walk through of the work being done. Food distribution, medicine dispersion, weapon crafting, defense preparation and so on and so forth. Everything was going smoothly from the looks of it. It was when she had neared the soup line did her presence gain some attention.
"Is that her?"
"Look at her hair, it has to be."
"It's the queen. We ought to speak to her."
"Queen Ra-!" a youngish voice began to call out to her but before whoever could continue his request for her attention, a hearty sound of a hit against clothed skin filled the air. "You won't be bothering the queen with your complaints." Davos' voice caught her attention. Turning her head, Ranta found the Onion Knight at one of the food distribution stalls chastising a trio of men who varied in age.
"Your farmers - I get that. I was a sailor, a smuggler. With that being said, I spent a majority of my life avoiding battles until the battle of the bastards came. Fought outside these very walls. If I can survive that, then you can survive this. Go get fitted with armor and weapons at the forge - straight down that way." the older man ordered stiffly, leaving very little room for sympathy for any of the men.
Heads tucked down low - the farmers scurried off to do as the Onion knight ordered, not even sparing the monarch a passing glance. Not all had been affected by what Davos had said however because soon, Ranta felt a tugging on her dress from down below. "Ma' queen." an accented childish voice sounded, leading Ranta to look down into the scarred face of a little northern girl.
"Which way should I go?" she asked. Tilting her head, Ranta crouched down low to the child's height so she wouldn't have to continue straining her neck upwards. "Is there a way you would prefer to go, young one?" Ranta returned.
"I heard from Lady Melarie that women, children, and the elderly are escaping the north with Lord Rodrik Forrester and into territory that you control." the child began. "Both of my brothers were soldiers though, and I want to fight too." she said determined. Ranta stared at the brave little girl for a long moment before smiling albeit a bit sadly.
"It's good to hear you want to follow after your brothers, I'm sure they'd be proud to hear that if they were here today" Ranta said, standing back to her feet and offered her hand to the child. Wordlessly the girl obliged and Ranta led her over to the food line. "If you want to fight then you can fight." Ranta held a hand up to halt those next in line so that the child could get her helping of food.
"Not here though," Davos got a bowl and filled it wordlessly with soup before handing it to Ranta. "Lord Rodrik is going to need all the help he can get as he leads people out of the North. I am tasking you with the protection of the vulnerable along with our friendly Lord. Do you think you can do that?" Ranta wondered, passing off the bowl to the child.
The little brunette hesitated for a split moment before nodding, determination never leaving her eyes as she nodded in confirmation. "I do. I promise to protect the caravan with my life ma' queen" she stated without waiver and then walked off after giving the Naylor an appropriate bow. "She's got courage, I'll give her that." Ranta said as she felt Davos' eyes burning a hole into the side of her head.
"Teela, I believe her name is." the knight spoke, "That girl has more courage than many of people here now that are twice her age." hearing this, Ranta huffed a laugh. "That she does." Ranta hummed in agreement before moving off, not noticing that a gentle red head with an extended belly had watched this interaction with a soft look in her eye before following after the monarch.
Gilly seen many things in her life, but never a woman with blue hair such as Ranta Naylor's. It was extremely fascinating and beautiful, leaving the former wildling to feel a bit envious of the magnificent colored locks of hair. The Essosian men that marched around was just as impressive as well. She had never seen warriors like the ones under the Naylor's command and now she could understand how Dickon and Randyll had lost to them months before.
"Ranta!" a male called out to the queen, gaining her attention. It was a tall black haired man with green eyes who bore an easy going smile. "Come see what Daario has got himself into." Colren smiled down at her, resting a hand on her shoulder momentarily before releasing his hold on her in order to lead the way.
Ranta wasn't sure what trouble Daario could have gotten himself into but it must have been pretty interesting to catch his attention. Following after her uncle, Ranta found herself leaving the stone outcrop of the keep and out into the open fields surrounding Winterfell where many souls were training.
The constant mettalic clang of steel against steel grated against Ranta's ear drums at an annoying rate, but she supposed it was rather good to hear that their fight against the dead wasn't completely hopeless. Walking a bit of a distance more, Ranta was graced with the sight of Daario sparring with Arya Stark of all people, much to the monarch's interest.
The young woman was doing rather well holding her own, dodging and twirling under Daario's precise strikes of his usual curved edged sword. That's all the young wolf could do however. Dodge and parry. Daario wasn't granting her any space to progress upon him. For every assault she attempted, Daario countered perfectly and continued his onslaught upon the brunette.
From the hairs that stuck to her forehead with sweat, it was clear that this had been going on for quite the while and Arya had clearly displayed signs of beginning fatigued. Ranta had no doubt though that the moves she attempted on Daario would have worked wonders on a Westerosi, it was in the nature of the fighting style that made it so.
Light, fluid and precise versus strong, straightforward and powerful. Why she was training with the Naylor's captain and where she even learned Essosian style fighting escaped Ranta.
Parrying two consecutive blows and ducking over a large swipe aimed at his head, Daario quickly delivered a harsh backhand to Arya's cheek in the opening that she left for him to take advantage of.
His hit sent the young Stark stumbling backwards and ultimately falling onto her behind as she tripped over her own feet from exhaustion. Letting out a sigh of relief, Daario stood down for what seemed to be the tenth time since they began sparring.
"I believe you're done for the day, little wolf." Daario stated as he looked down at Arya working herself to her feet despite his words. "Why don't you go get some rest." he suggested half heartedly. "No," Arya panted lightly, "Again." she pressed.
"You can hardly stand." Daario's brow furrowed, a little annoyed that she persisted. The male brunette rolled his eyes at this and looked off to the side half heartedly but soon tensed and straightened at the sight of his queen watching him with her uncle.
Arya noticed his change in demanor and turned her head towards the monarch as well. "You fight, Arya." Ranta granted. "If no one knew any better, they would say you're from Essos yourself." she complimented.
"Thank you, your grace." Arya nodded, sheathing Needle and holding her hands behind her back. "She has much room for improvement." Daario disputed the praise from the monarch.
"But against the dead?" Ranta returned with out pause. "...She has a chance." Daario stated. "Which is all that matters." the blue eyed woman nodded and then looked the both of them peculiarly. "What made you two have this little sparring session?" there were plenty of people to pair up with. Why Daario and Arya chose each other was strange to Ranta.
"Your sister." the two brunettes chorused together, earning a quirked brow from Ranta. "I asked Daario to spar with me," Arya began to explain. "Daario said no. Cerran then went and found your sister and told her, Daenerys came back and ordered Daario to spar with me unless he wanted her to tell you about his refusal." Arya concluded.
A well placed look had Daario discovering that the ground was rather intriguing at the moment. Humming, Ranta approached Arya and moved aside strands of hair that had come loose from her bun, ignoring the slick sweat on her brow.
"Given we survive the wars to come and you would like to, I will have you placed under Daario's tutelage. With him, you'll master our style in no time." Arya blinked up in surprise at the Naylor in surprise for a long moment before a grin split across her face. "I think I rather like that offer." Arya trilled merrily. Daario on the other hand couldn't believe his luck.
"Damn to the hells to whoever says my niece isn't generous." Colren came up besides Ranta and threw an arm over her shoulder, the woman in question turning her head to look at him with her smirk still in place.
"That good heart of yours still shines through after all this time." the ravenette hummed appreciatively, shaking her playfully before stepping away with a flourish. "Now then, young Stark. Perhaps you would like to see a battle between Naylors." Colren offered, hand on the sword at his hip as he threw his neice a michevious look.
"It'll be a rather short spar," Ranta humored her uncle and created enough distance between them. Stunned at the abrupt change of events, Daario and Arya made good to give the duo some space to work. Gilly too made sure not to look away from the spar about to begin.
"Ai, you wound me." Colren held a hand over his heart momentarily before drawing his sword with a predatory grin upon his face. Pursing her lips, Ranta held up a hand expectantly towards Daario and wasn't disappointed when the man had tossed her one arm bracer after another. Working the protective leather on, Ranta soon unclipped the war mace at her hip.
Instead of taking a stance as she usually would, Ranta tossed that over to Daario who caught it soundly. Reaching under the collar of her furry dress, Ranta pulled out a hidden dagger she kept on her person and caught a sword Daario tossed to her without a word.
Colren looked surprised at the change of weapon choice but grinned nonetheless as Ranta took a stance Sir Barristan had drilled into her skull years ago.
"You didn't really think Barristan only allowed me to master the war mace did you?" she asked coyly, stepping forward with a trained eye on the man. "It's a good thing he didn't." Colren returned with his own smirk, striding forward to meet the woman in practice battle.
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"I know you."
Dickon's heart dropped into his stomach with this proclamation. His and Jamie's. Dickon, Sam, Gilly, and little Sam had all reached the North just fine. They had even miraculously run into Jamie Lannister who was apparently here to lend his one good hand to the cause as well. It was awkward at first.
Having them all travel together created a tense air seeing as it was the fault of a Lannister that had put the Tarly family on the outs with those who used to care for them and with the up and coming powerful monarch Ranta Naylor. Jamie had offered the family one opportunity to kill him during the journey north on one of the nights they stopped for rest.
Either they could kill him or the dead could. It was only with Gilly's grace did the one handed lion make it to Winterfell after she had talked down Dickon from taking him up on the offer. It would be horribly counter productive to their cause to save the living from the dead, any help is substantial. Even one from a one-handed man.
The small party had however went seperate ways not too long after reaching Winterfell - Gilly off to scope out what was being rationed for her and her son while Sam, Jamie and Dickon searched for Jon. Jon would protect them, Sam had said. He would buffer any attempts made to take off the heads of Jamie or Dickon.
The only problem was that they hadn't found Jon yet and had run into the queen's closest confidant - Missandei. The translator stared at Dickon and Jamie with a conflicted frown upon her face. What was the Tarly doing out of the Citadel? The Lannister out of Kings Landing?
"You were ordered to remain at the Citadel by the queen." Missandei voiced this, looking to the Tarly in question. "And you are brother to Cersei Lannister, she denied helping us."
While Dickon and Jamie both remained silent, Sam attempted to jump to their defense. "Well you see about that, it's a funny story actually. My name is Samwell Tarly-" he began to say to the woman who had frozen his brother in place.
"Dovaogēdy!" Missandei cried out loud, taking a step back. "Oh shit," Jamie breathed out, knowing what the woman was doing. "J-Just wait" Jamie tried, taking a step forward but the translator had skirted backwards.
"Dovaogēdy!" Missandei cried out louder, and with this cry did a squadron of the stoic soldiers she had been calling out for come running to her aid. "Dovaogēdy, gūrogon zirȳla! Gūrogon Dickon Tahrlī se Jamie Lānistor!" Missandei cried, pointing to the two in question.
The trio of men all shifted backwards at the imposing armored men but they had all been torn apart violently. Jamie and Dickon did nothing as they had been violently tossed around as hand cuffs were slapped on their wrists and stripped of whatever weapons they carried on their person.
"Wait!" Sam approached the translator but skirted to a stop when a cluster of Unsullied unoccupied had pointed their spears at him threateningly. "You would be wise not to make such movements," Missandei warned Sam lowly.
"If you would just let me explain everything, you'll see that there's no need to have them clapped in iron." Sam chuckled uneasily.
"It's not going to be me you have to explain yourself to, but rather the queen. You can explain to her why you brought Jamie Lannister and Dickon Tarly here." Missandei said briskly before barking out another order in a language that Sam couldn't understand.
"Gūrogon zirȳ konīr, jiōragon Daenērys se dāria Ranta" Missandei instructed, pointing to the Great Hall meeting room from where they all stood. A majority of them left to bring the impromptu prisoners to the room like Missandei had ordered while four others split off into two groups to track down the Khaleesi and the Storm Queen.
As the men split off, it left Sam and Missandei looking at each other but before long, the translator had motioned for Sam to go up into the great hall as well before she shortly followed after with a heavy sigh.
Missandei couldn't help but notice that the Unsullied escorting the controversial characters had drawn quite a bit of attention and all hopes of this being a quiet afair were destroyed, she supposed this was a good thing though. If more people knew then the less that this would have to be explained to the people in Winterfell.
Sansa Stark in particular had caught sight of the two men being marched to the Great Hall and met Missandei's eye from a distance. Once she had climbed the stairs leading to the Hall, she paused by Sansa who fought to tear her gaze off of Jamie's dark head of hair tucked in between Unsullied soldiers. "Whatever northern lords you can gather - I would." Missandei said simply before making to move off but had been stopped when Sansa grabbed her arm breifly.
"Samwell Tarly is a good friend of Jon's. They go back a long time." she said for some unknown reason to the Naylorian advisor. "He's not in iron." Missandei said simply.
"No, but his brother is and Jon always viewed Sam as a brother." Sansa said vaguely before moving off at a brisk pace. Exhaling deeply, Missandei continued on her way to the hall and once inside, she stood off to the side of the head table and awaited patiently with the other men in the room.
Sam on the other hand was no where near as patient as the translator. Especially when lords and ladies began to file in, throwing glances and glares at Jamie and Dickon.
It had only been a matter of a short few minutes Daenerys stormed in with a rather terse expression upon her face. The Targaryen's usual black dragon scale dress had its usual intimidating flare, especially with the dark red cape thrown over her shoulder and silver chain across her body. Dany's white blond hair was thrown back in its usual braids and her violet eyes were as fierce as ever.
The Targaryen's steps were brisk and assertive as she strided to the head table, the Dothraki that followed her had similar tense expressions upon their faces. Jon had skirted in moments later with Davos. Jorah, Tyrion and Varys followed after.
"My sister?" Dany murmured to Missandei once she was close enough. "Not here yet." the curly haired brunette answered as the blonde strode by and took a seat at the head of the table. Sansa sat one chair away and Jon sat on the other side of Daenerys. The chair between the female Stark and Targaryen was left for the Naylorian queen.
Inhaling deeply, Daenerys exhaled slowly as she stared at Jamie and Dickon - her jaw moving from side to side in agitation at the sight of both men. Who the larger third nervous looking one was a mystery to her. "Who are you?" Dany asked bluntly. "S-Samwell Tarly, my lady." Sam stuttered, "and I-"
"Sit down." Daenerys cut the nervous man off. Sam blinked in confusion and openly gaped at the blonde. "I have no interest in you whatso ever. Neither will my sister." Dany bit with no remorse. "What I am interested in, is why I am looking at a pair of men who ought to be dead but were miraculously spared by my sister."
"Perhaps they're here to help." Sansa said dryly, not entertained with the sight of Jamie Lannister. "What use is a one handed man?" Daenerys returned, gaining a smirk from the red head in responce. "Perhaps not as useful as a turncoat traitor." Sansa tacked on.
"You aren't helping." Jon murmured to his sister. "Maybe we ought to wait before passing more judgement." he attempted to quell the cruel tongues of the two women and then smiled tensely at Sam. "It is good to see you again, Sam." he granted. "You too, Jon." Sam chuckled nervously.
"Sit, Samwell Tarly." Daenerys said again briskly, causing the scholarly man to do as she commanded this time - taking a seat closest to his brother without pause. "Did you know that when I was a little girl, my brother - late prince Viserys would tell me a story. He would tell me about the man who murdered our father." the Khaleesi stared coldly at Jamie as she said this.
"The man who stabbed him in the back, cut his throat and watched the life slip from the old king's eyes as he sat upon the iron throne. He also told me plenty of other stories, ones that were about what we would do to that man when the iron throne was reclaimed and we had our father's murderer in our grasp." Daenerys trailed off meaningfully.
Jamie may not have shifted under the Targaryen's stare, but Dickon did. "I always did tell Viserys to stop telling you that story." a familiar voice sounded, causing many to turn towards the wooden doors that had been left open enough for anyone to hear what was going on outside. Ranta had been standing in the doorway without anyone noticing.
"It was a shit bed time story." Ranta simpered, meandering in past the door way. The only indication that shown that Ranta had been sparing was a fresh cut to her eye brow. With her entrance did come the abrupt standing of northerners and her own group of advisors. Even Sansa had come to stand for the monarch. Slowly walking past Dickon and Jamie, Ranta held up a hand and motioned for the people to return to their seats.
Slinking past Jon, Ranta made for the open seat left for her but did not sit between the female wolf and dragon. The Naylor remained standing. "Tell me Dany," Ranta took up an amused tone, "How far did you get?" she questioned the blonde.
"I just told the story."
"You insulted them before that didn't you?"
Daenerys huffed a laugh and that was all Ranta needed to know. Smirking, Ranta's head dropped momentarily before she brought it back up again. "You'll have to forgive any rudeness." she spoke to Jamie and Dickon as if they were legit esteemed guests. "Times are rather tense." she continued in her casual tone.
" In a period of darkness such as this one, it would set anyone on edge - especially when faced with a prisoner of war who blatantly disobeyed a direct order and another who is looking to end your reign on top of everything else" With this final statement did her casual tone lose its edge and a dangerous one took its place.
Sam, who had been an axious man before the monarch had even entered the room was practically sweating his body weight as he listened and observed the powerful people before him. He had managed to remain sitting for a few seconds more before he suddenly shot up, gaining attention.
"P-pardon me, my queen." he stuttered, taking a few steps forward. "Y-you don't know me well….or at all actually but my name is Samwell Tarly." he began. This name triggered a memory in the Naylor's mind, the woman looking to Dickon momentarily before returning her gaze to Sam.
"You're Dickon's brother. First son of Randyll Tarly." she said as fact. "Yes, that's right." the dark haired man chuckled nervously.
"Sam used to man the Wall with me." Jon spoke up, "We've been through a lot together, eventually when we went our separate paths, he ended up at the Citadel and became quite the scholar. Sam was the one to discover that dragon glass destroys wights and white walkers." the former king stated, hoping that this bit of information would prompt Ranta not to be as cruel as her sister was moments ago.
"He was also the one to bring Jamie Lannister and his brother into Winterfell." Missandei added in, causing a bit of murmurs to spring up. This bit of news struck a nerve in Ranta, whatever neutrality she held for the elder Tarly was beginning to go up in smoke.
"Am I to assume that you are here to help because you aren't as terrible as a person as your sister?" Ranta abruptly directed towards Jamie. "You are." Jamie said with a small sigh, expecting some kind of threat like Daenerys had given him but had been surprised when she simply nodded and turned her attention off of him.
"Is what Missandei said, true, Samwell?" Ranta then turned to the scholar. "Well, that bit is technically true." Sam granted, "But truth be told, Jamie joined with us later. It wasn't as if we traveled together the entire time-"
"The point." Ranta cut in sharply without meaning to and then checked her tone, " Get to the point Samwell, because currently you aren't helping yourself." she said truthfully. "Right, well you see-"
"Your brother didn't lie to you did he?" Ranta cut him off. The Storm queen's attitude was something unusual and strange. Never had she been so short since her arrival to Winterfell, outside of Winterfell was a different story entirely but despite this fact - it was still strange and unsettling.
"Pardon, your grace?" Sam asked weakly. "When you obtained this grand idea of coming North instead of remaining in the Citadel to gain more information for us on how to defeat the Night King and his army" Sam winced at this.
"Did your brother not tell you that I had sentenced him to remain in the Citadel?" she looked to the large man imploringly in a knowing tone.
"He - he made mention of it, yes." Sam admitted. Humming, Ranta nodded her head once and looked to Dickon who was shrinking in on himself - his mind flashing back to that day on the battle field where dragon fire raced towards him on a single command.
"Did he drag you from the Citadel kicking and screaming, Dickon?" Ranta asked, "If so then I could grant you some leniency but if not, then I'm afraid my patience for you is all but gone." she said plainly. Multiple nerves had been struck and her patience was indeed beginning to wear thin.
"I can't help but notice a pattern that is taking trend." the change in her voice had the queen's advisors shifting uneasily while Daenerys merely smiled knowingly, something that Jon and Davos took notice of.
"It seems that people like to spit in my face in response to my kindness or mercy. Makes me think that people are beginning to believe that I am weak. 'Ranta Naylor forgave this action and only gave a slap of the wrist.' 'Ranta Naylor spared them, she'll do it again.' The few masters of Mereen who didn't get their throats slit when I took over the city have united with Cersei against me with their other friends from Volantis. Dickon Tarly doesn't feel the need to stay in the Citadel because his big brother Samwell Tarly said so and the red headed wolf pelt named Sansa doesn't believe that I know how to protect my people" she bitterly listed as examples.
This last example had caused unrest to break out amongst the Dragonstone party. "I don't think that is necessarily true-" Tyrion spoke tentatively but winced at the bark he recieved in return. "It is true! She said it to my face." Ranta pressed.
Jon had already sat tensed at the abrupt change in language in general but when he heard Sansa's name escape past Ranta's lips in the rant she went on - he wondered if the Naylor had just made it known what had happened between she and Sansa. From the look on Daenerys' face at what her sister was saying, Jon figured that it had to be true.
Taking a leap of faith, Jorah stepped forward and stopped Ranta's pacing to whisper in her ear. "My queen, if you would allow me - I would like to speak things over with you about what you just voiced after this meeting. Until then, I advise you finish this meeting quickly." Jorah took care to switch to Dothraki because not everyone who counseled the queen knew the language. In particular Tyrion and Varys. The Mormont had his own concerns to file about the duo.
Taking a subtle calming breath, Ranta nodded and turned back to the crowd.
"I will make this quick. Regardless of the fact of how you two are here ...the fact remains that you are here." Ranta looked to Jamie and Dickon as she returned to common. "You want to help defeat the dead? That's fine, get in your last morally good deeds but you hear me now." she said seriously.
" Either you two die on that field against the dead, on the field in Kings Landing or you spend the rest of your lives running and allow me to let it be known that it will be a tough life. There's not a corner of this world that does not know my name. All it takes is one letter to the right person. Now take your weapons and get moving. We're done here. Go make yourselves useful." she finished coldly, her final command signaling the Unsullied who stripped them of their weapons to step forward and return the blades to their owners.
"Thank you, your grace." the duo bowed lowly. "Come, Jorah." Ranta then stated without acknowledging either of them, moving out behind the head table and making for the exit. Jamie and Dickon remained bowed as she passed by with Jorah - the northerners present scrambling to do the same.
Unsurely did Jorah look over at the monarch walking at a brisk pace but said nothing, he knew that she would speak when she was ready. For a while they walked, they walked all the way to the upper outcrop on the hills surrounding Winterfell where the dragons and basilisks stayed in a stone cave crafted by Ranta.
The basilisks in particular happened to be the only ones awake that inhabited the cave, the dragons were sleeping. Beckoning the duo out, Vaemarr and Laemyx obeyed and slithered out. Ranta offered a hand out and was rewarded with the hard shell of Vaemarr rubbing his head into her hand.
Beckoning Jorah closer, Ranta took his hand in hers and placed it against the midnight beast's armor - startling the Mormont at the surprise action. Turning to the eggshell snake next, Ranta ran her hand along his head as well before wordlessly mounting the beast with his help. "Go ahead, Jorah." the monarch nodded her head to the Mormont still on the ground petting the beast with some hesitation. Never in all the years he had been with the Naylor had he touched one of the beasts, let alone rode one.
This fact remained solid outside of when the dragons saved him, Varys and Tyrion from stone men when traveling through Valyria of course. As if sensing his hesitation and his mother's impatience - Vaemarr nudged Jorah up upon his head and gave a small shake to prompt the man's body into the correct position he needed to be in.
Once the Mormont had settled, Vaemarr followed after Laemyx who had taken off at the silent request of his mother. The basilisks and their riders slithered out into the snowy fields side by side. "Go ahead Jorah." Ranta began conversation.
"Tell me how I just lost us ground with the northerners with my lost temper." she sighed. "Your anger is understandable." Jorah granted, "You're stressed and there are things coming at you from multiple angles. It however, could of been handled much better." he played both sides of the argument.
"Which part?" Ranta drolled. "The threatening of Jamie Lannister and Dickon Tarly for one." the Mormont shrugged but he could give the Naylor that one in all consideration. What she had said during the rant was valid. "There was also the fact of what you said about Sansa though the others couldn't understand." he then added.
"That part was true, ask Rodrik and Melarie." Ranta held up a finger. "Regardless, you calling out Tyrion's ex-wife in any language wasn't the best thing to do." Jorah said nonetheless. "What?!" Ranta's head whipped over to look at Jorah incredulously. The Mormont however had expected this kind of reaction, he had known for fact that Ranta was unaware of Tyrion's marriage history. "He's married to her?!" Ranta echoed. "Used to be." Jorah corrected.
This certainly explained why Tyrion had jumped to her defense before. Groaning, Ranta allowed herself to fall face first into the hard armored shell of her mount. It hurt but the woman paid no mind to the pain. Why her? "There's something else you ought to know. A concern I have, rather." Jorah said despite this.
"Tyrion and Varys have a relationship so strong that it warrants some worry." he trailed off. Ranta remained motionless and quiet. "My point is, what if it comes to the point of them keeping secrets from you?" Jorah expressed. This had gained some movement from the monarch, the woman raising her head and turning to look at the Mormont.
"Gods forbid one decides that you are no longer the best option for the safety of Westeros, with their friendship - those two are a dangerous combination my queen. Thinking worse terms possible, they would be able to take you down quickly." Jorah said openly. Ranta's brow furrowed at this, her heart and mind both experiencing shooting pains.
"I only say this because I'm not ignorant to the looks they give Jon Snow, on more than one occasion I've heard at least one of them making comments on what a good King he was and would be. They both acknowledge that Sansa is a powerful leader as well." Jorah frowned heavily.
"Maybe they say this about Jon because they want to form a marriage agreement between the two of you. With Jon in the south with you, it would leave Sansa the north. Maybe this is their logic." he offered with a shrug. "I wouldn't be able to touch the north without damaging the bridge with Jon if we did get married." Ranta commented more to herself than to him.
"He could turn against me entirely and take me out. As husband, he would know everything." she continued on, mind racing. Jorah watched this with a frown, he didn't like causing his queen unneccessary stress and maybe he was just jumping to conclusions but these concerns had to be brought up.
He wasn't ignorant to the threats she had made lately and those were grounds for the dwarf and eunich to begin looking for a ways to pull the rig out from Ranta's feet before she reached the throne if they believed it was best for Westeros.
"I want you to becareful, Ranta." Jorah conveyed. Vaemarr and Laemyx coming to a stop after he said this. The woman looked at the bear for a long moment. "Are you telling me I cannot trust my master of whisperers...my own hand most of all?" She asked quietly.
Jorah swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded once. The relationship between Tyrion and Varys was just as dangerous as the one between Sansa and Petyr. If she had been younger, Ranta would of allowed the tear fall down her face but instead she merely fought it off.
Looking away, Ranta stared out at their surroundings in an effort to hide her hurt. The monarch hadn't been able to do this long though because soon her brow furrowed when she spotted figures in the distance. It was a small party on horse back but that's all she could make out.
"What is that?" She murmured, leading Jorah to look where she had been looking. "The dead don't send scouts do they?" Ranta frowned. "Not that I ever heard of." Jorah denied, Vaemarr moving along with his brother towards the party after Ranta had urged Laemyx to move again.
The closer they drew to the party on horse back, the more the basilisks flared their armored hoods that prompted Jorah and Ranta to find different grooves in their armor so that they would be more easily protected.
If it were the dead, Ranta was beginning to think they would of charged at them by now with their eerie screams.
Soon enough, Vaemarr and Laemyx had come to a stop. Definitely not wights then even if their hoods remained out and the snakes growled warningly. Climbing back into their original positions, the duo heard a voice ring out.
"Well met, Jorah Mormont and Storm Queen." Ranta knew that voice. Perking up, Ranta was greeted with the sight of Beric, Thoros, Kinvara, Sandor and Melisandre. All looking rough around the edges but rather well.
"Do you think you could give us an escort to Winterfell?" Beric continued to speak with his usual smirk, "The dead aren't far behind us."
Fear struck through both riders of the basilisks and though all were a bit always from Winterfell, they could all here a distant horn be blown.
"I believe that would be a group of scattered wildlings and Nights watchmen arriving at the gates to tell you the same thing. " Melisandre chimed in with her own smile despite the situation and this moment there were only two words on that came to Ranta at that moment.
"Fuck me."