Chapter 6 – Oathbreaker

The ride up the Kingsroad was a long and uncomfortable journey that progressively got colder and colder the farther North Jaime travelled. The whole way there, it had felt like the right thing to do. He had tried his best to convince his twin sister that the war against the Others was of a greater importance than the Iron Throne, but she did not listen. Now, instead of the Lannister army marching through the gates of Winterfell, it was just him.

Nobody seemed to mind the cloaked rider amongst the multitude of smallfolk seeking refuge from the incoming threat. With his golden hand covered, he didn't think anyone would even be able to recognize him. As he dismounted his horse, he went over his plan again. He was the Kingslayer. The Targaryen Queen probably hates him for breaking his Kingsguard's vows and killing her father. Probably enough to feed him to her dragons. That's why beside offering his sword for the fight to come, he also brought with him information that will greatly help the Northern cause.

For once in his life, he felt like the kind of knight he always dreamed of being when he was a young boy. Upholding honor and fighting for a just cause. That feeling of righteousness didn't last long though as his eyes caught sight of that tower. The tower where he had pushed one of the Stark boys for catching him with Cersei. He felt a chill run down his back as he felt someone watching him. When he turned around, he caught sight of a boy sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of the courtyard who was staring intently at him.

His features had matured but he could still clearly see the young man that was Bran Stark. He felt his phantom hand twitch as he recalled the feeling of pushing the boy all those years ago. It didn't take much effort, but it had crippled him nonetheless and is what started the madness that led to the War of the Five Kings. Guilt washed over him as he froze in place, not knowing what he should do or say.

It was the boy that made the first move, gesturing for him to approach. His legs felt like lead as he walked those steps, but he would not run from this shame. He would pay the price for his transgression, whatever it may be. "Hello, old friend," said Bran with a thin and bittersweet smile. "I would have come greet you…but as you can see, I can't move very well on my own."

At that moment, he would have rather faced a thousand blade than the guilt that was stabbing at his conscious. "I'm sorry for what I did to you," he said finally.

"The gods seem to have a sense of poetic justice," said Bran as he looked at his golden hand. "The hand that made me a cripple has been taken from you to make you one too."

"I'm not that person anymore."

"You still would be, if you hadn't pushed me out of that window. Sometimes it takes tragedy for us to grow into the person we are meant to be."

"You're not angry at me?"

"Will it give me my legs back?"

Jaime tried to look away, but Bran waited for his response. "No."

"Then why should I be?"

After another long moment of silence between them, Jaime asked, "Have you told them about what I have done?"

"You won't be able to help us in this war, if I let them murder you first."

"What about afterwards?"

Bran smiled a bit more, "One step at a time, Ser Jaime. First, you have an audience with the queen."

"When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story about the man who murdered our father. About all the things we would do to that man," said Daenerys venomously as she looked at Jaime who stood at the center of the Great Hall. "Your sister pledged to send her army North."

"She did," responded Jaime.

"I don't see an army. I see one man, with one hand. It appears your sister lied to me."

"She lied to me as well," said Jaime as he met Tyrion's gaze.

"Pity. I would have considered mercy had she helped us in this war and yielded the Iron Throne."

"She never had any intentions of sending the army North. She had Euron Greyjoy's fleet ferry 20,000 fresh troops of The Golden Company from Essos."

"I see…and you have travelled all this way to personally tell us this because…"

"I promised to fight for the living, I intend to keep that promise."

"The promise of an Oathbreaker!" shouted one of the Northern lords.

"Brother and sister alike!" shouted another.

"I bleed Lannister red too," said Tyrion with enough hint of a threat that quieted the hall. As Hand of the Queen, he held enough authority to prevent his family from being slandered during court.

"Do you want me to apologize for killing the Mad King?" asked Jaime as he looked around the room. "I won't. I may have broken my vows that day, but I also saved hundreds of thousands of lives. Your father would have burned King's Landing to the ground to deny Robert Baratheon his city."

"Yes, you're so righteous aren't you? What of Princess Elia and her children? My good-sister, niece and nephew that the Mountain brutalized while you sat on the Iron Throne and watched as the blood of my father pooled onto the floor."

"If I had known what my father ordered, I would have gone to protect them, I swear it," said Jaime as he gritted his teeth, recalling the horrible corpses of the children.

Daenerys watched him as she felt her blood boil. There stood a man that she had wanted dead for most of her life. She had the power and authority to sentence him to death, all she had to do was say the word. Nobody would be able to stop her, all she had to do was reach out and use that power. "Will anyone speak for him?" she asked as she tried to suppress these dark thoughts.

"Your Grace, I know my brother-" started Tyrion.

"Someone impartial."

Silence filled the Great Hall as the queen waited to see if anyone would speak for the Kingslayer. Meanwhile, Jaime stood up straight with his head held high. He wouldn't look to the Northern lords here for help, not that he expected any. A lion does not seek help from other; maimed as he is, he still had his Lannister pride that his father instilled in him. When he heard someone's chair screech back, he couldn't help but turn to see who it was that stood for him.

"You don't know me well, Your Grace," said Brienne as she walked to stand beside him in front of the queen. "But I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honor. I was his captor once but when we were both taken prisoners and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me and lost his hand because of it."

She then turned to Sansa as she continued. "Without him, My Lady, you would not be alive. He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home because he had sworn a sacred oath to your mother."

"You vouch for him?" asked Sansa.

"I do," she responded without hesitation.

"You would fight beside him?"

"I would."

She looked at Brienne and saw that her sworn sword truly wished for the man to be spared. She then glanced over at Tyrion, who was still standing, nervously clenching his fist. Her vote of confidence would no doubt have some sway on the queen, but this was the man who attacked and injured her father. Does a good act right a wrong one? 'We only make peace with our enemies, that's why it's called making peace.' "I trust you with my life and you trust him with yours. We should let him stay."

Daenerys had hoped nobody would speak for Jaime Lannister. It would have made it so much easier to justify killing him but now it would be considered an act of tyranny. 'Damn what they think! You are a dragon! A dragon does what it wants! If they want to oppose you then they can burn as the masters did in Slaver's Bay!' The voice of her brother called for his blood and she so badly wanted to oblige him.

"What does the Warden of the North say about it?" she asked as she turned to Jon.

It took him a double take to process what was happening after being lost in his thoughts. "Lady Brienne speaks highly of you, I hope you prove it to be true. If you are truly here to help then we have no reason to turn down an able-bodied man."

With the major voices of the table having spoken, Daenerys finally relented, "Very well." She looked to the commander of the Unsullied and the soldier went to return Jaime his sword.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said with a bow.

"Should your intentions be untrue," said Daenerys as she got up from her seat, "I will turn your bone to ash." With that said she left the room, her advisors tried to follow suit but were stopped by Jorah as he gestured for him to have a moment alone.

"What you did was not easy, Khaleesi," he said as he walked with her.

"What do you mean?"

"You spared the life of the man who killed your father, a man you've wanted dead most of your life. I saw the turmoil within you, but you made the right choice. Now, the houses that sided with Robert during the rebellion and the realm in general will feel a lot better about you taking the throne."

"Yes…but it still seems so far away, as far away as it was when we were riding in the Dothraki Sea."

"You have come a long way since then," said Jorah as he chuckled, "not so far now."

Arya didn't bother attending the trial of Jaime Lannister, she didn't care if they killed him, spared him or sent him back to King's Landing, he wasn't on her list. Instead, she chose to go visit Gendry again. She wanted to see if her Needle had been upgraded yet and, though she would never admit it to anyone, there was a certain hypnotizing allure to watching him smith.

When she got there, she saw him leave the forge with his warhammer and quietly followed him as he made his way to the tiltyard. "Took you bloody long enough," said the Hound as he got up from where he was sitting and picked up his sparring sword.

"You should get a shield," said Gendry to which the Hound chuckled.

"You're not gonna hit me, boy."

"I may not have much experience fighting but I've been hammering anvil my whole life and I've gotten quite good at it."

"The anvil doesn't hit back," said the Hound as he got into a fighting stance. "Now, enough talking. If you're so confident, show me."

Gendry mirrored him as he too got into his stance and led out with a wide swing at the Hound's left arm. The more experienced fighter easily parried it and allowed the young man to have another attempt, and another, and another. Each time he swung the warhammer with strength beyond his age, but each time the strike was either dodged or parried. In his frustration, he sent a hard swing toward the Hound's temple and immediately regretted it. 'What if I accidentally kill him?'

His worries were unwarranted though as the Hound ducked the swing and countered for the first time with a hard punch to his gut that made his knees buckle. "Never hesitate, your opponent certainly won't."

When Gendry got back up, the Hound began his assault as he rained down heavy blows that were far too quick for the young smith to block. Multiple hits connected with force strong enough to leave a bruise.

Arya watched as the Hound continued to bully Gendry around and part of her wanted to step in. Part of her also understood that this was how the Hound taught people, but she was beginning to wonder if he wasn't just abusing the poor boy as the Waif abused her.

The larger man finally stopped once he brought Gendry to his knees and disarmed him. "Alright that's enough for one day," he said as he began walking away.

"Wait, I can still fight," said Gendry as he got back up.

"Reflect on how I beat you into the dirt and we'll try again tomorrow," said the Hound dismissively as he left the tiltyard.

"Are you alright?" asked Arya as she approached him once the Hound had left.

"I've had worse," said Gendry as he turned to face her. "Were you watching?"

"Mhmm, that was quite the beating. I thought you called yourself a fighter."

"Kicking me while I'm down, eh? That's not very ladylike." The two of them shared a laugh as Arya playfully shoved him.

She watched as he went back to thinking about why he was so soundly defeated and decided to help her friend out, "Your attacks are too obvious."

"What do you mean?"

"Your swings are too wide. They're fast but there's still enough time for your opponent to react. If you want your hits to land, you'll need to set them up first."

"How do I do that?"

"Pick up your weapon and I'll show you."

Gendry smiled widely as he went to pick up his warhammer. "Do I get to call you My Lady for a day if I win?"

"You get to call me My Lady for the rest of my life if you win," said Arya as she smiled back confidently. The two circled each other for a brief moment and began their dance.

The line in front of the food station was long. Not only were the workers and soldiers taking their lunch breaks but the smallfolk who came to seek shelter had to eat too. Davos shed a tear as he continued to cut the onions. The chefs found it funny and quite frankly he found it funny as well until people started giving the crying fifty-year old man weird looks. "Is this where we get food?" asked a small voice which made him look up from his work.

It was a small girl with a scar across her right cheek that reminded him of Shireen. Tears welled up in his eyes and this time it wasn't from the onions. "Aye, it's here," he said softly as he turned to a cook. "Can I get a bowl of soup and a piece of bread?"

"We're out," said the line cook beside him.

"Give us a minute, girl. We'll be making some more," said Davos.

"No we won't," said the head cook from behind.

"What do you mean?" asked Davos as he looked back at the line of people still waiting for their portion.

"Lady Sansa's orders. This is the ration for today."

"Damn the rations! We'll never get through winter if we can't survive the first battle, and we'll never survive the first battle if the people are starving! Plus, the queen is bringing more food as we speak."

"Ser…these rations are based on when we're expecting the food to arrive," said the head cook.

Davos was stunned silent by that revelation. He never knew the food situation was this dire; no wonder the Lady of Winterfell was so adamant during the meetings in the Great Hall in regard to this problem. He was snapped out of his thoughts though as some of the people in line began to get agitated from the stall.

"What the hell's taking so long?!"

"W-We won't be serving any more food for today," said the head cook timidly to the crowd and he received the treatment that he expected.

"I haven't eaten anything since yesterday and you want me to go work without food?!" The northman then turned to look at two Dothraki bloodriders who were lucky enough to get food. "You feed these foreign savages our food while we starve?!"

One of the Dothraki warriors stopped as he turned to face the man who was yelling and pointing at them. "Fin ajjin mae asto (What is he saying)?"

"You think you can insult us just because we can't understand you?!" said the man as he approach them. "Tell me, do you leave your hair long so that he can pull at it while he fucks you from behind?"

"Fuck…Ahh! Mae zala remekat ma yer (He wants to sleep with you)," said the other Dothraki as he laughed.

"Ki fin yeni (What the fuck)?" said the first as he gave the northman a disgusted look.

"You think something's funny?" said the northman as he drew his blade which instantly put both warriors on edge.

"Mae lajat kisha (He challenges us)," said the other Dothraki.

"Arrek tihat mae qorraya (Let's see his arm then)," said the first as he drew his arakh.

Before the fight could escalate further, a blast of horn interrupted them as soldiers began rushing out of the keep alongside the Warden of the North in case there were more blasts to come. Luckily for everyone, the horn stopped at one and the gates opened to the return of his brothers from the Night's Watch.

Sam was the first to embrace Edd and Jon followed but before he could reach Edd, Tormund nearly tackled him to the ground with his bear hug. "Little crow," said Tormund as he greeted Jon.

"I thought we lost you," said Jon as he recovered his bearing.

"A flock of crows got us out before the fucker rode in with his new dragon."

Jon nodded as he greeted the remaining men. "How did you find each other?"

"We met up at the Last Hearth," said Edd. "Place was infested with rats. Not a soul left in there for the Night King."

"Must have been Bran's doing."

"Any later and the Umbers would be fighting with the Night King," said Beric Dondarrion.

"How long do we have?" asked Jon.

"If he marches on us…before the sun comes up tomorrow."

"Then winter is here," said Jon as he gritted his teeth. "Gather the generals."

"We have dragonglass, Valyrian steel and the largest army in the world! We can hold them!" said one of the northern generals.

"Siege weapons and dragons as well! What can the dead do when fire rains down on them from above?" said another lord from the Vale.

"Defending a siege only works if there are allies coming to lift it," said Tyrion. "If you haven't noticed yet, no one's coming. The dead wouldn't even have to attack us, all they would need to do is starve us to death."

"And how would a dwarf know these things?"

Tyrion looked at him incredulously as if he was the most stupid man in the world and held out his small hands. "Because I've defended a siege."

"We cannot hold to them, not only do they outnumber us but every one of our dead joins their rank," said Jon.

"So what can we do?" asked Jaime.

"We can't do anything if we don't know where he is," said Jorah.

"The Night King rests at the Nightfort," answered Bran.

"He does not march on us? Why?" asked Jon.

"I…don't know. His powers are not limitless, perhaps he needed time to recuperate after destroying the Wall or perhaps for some other reason."

"No matter the reason, this gives us a bit more time to prepare. The two inner trenches have been dug and built. We'll build up the outer wooden dam as much as we can before the dead arrive, even the women and children can help with that task," said Jon.

"Your Grace, if I may," said Davos, "the current food ration is not enough to feed everyone. Morale will drop quickly if people work on empty stomachs."

"I had no choice, there are nearly two hundred thousand people here. That's five times more than what we planned for," said Sansa. "Our stores will not last if we feed all of them three meals a day."

"The food is coming," said Tyrion.

Right as he said that, Varys entered the room with a frown that meant he brought bad news. "Your Grace, a raven from the Fingers, the Greyjoy fleet has been spotted. The longships are a day's sail behind but they will catch up to our slower caravans."

"The bulk of our fleet is taking back the Iron Islands under my sister's command right now," said Theon. "But even if they were here, they would not make it in time."

Jon clutched his hands as he felt the anger burn within him. Why couldn't Cersei and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms understand the magnitude of this threat? Instead of being defeated by the dead, they would be betrayed by the living that they were trying to save. It felt like the betrayal he had suffered at the hands of his false brothers and he would not allow the same fate to befall the people here. Enough was enough.

"We can make it," he said as he broke the silence in the room and looked to Daenerys. The look they shared was all they needed as she met his dark grey eyes with the same fire that burned in her violet ones. "Let's show them what we do to Oathbreakers."

*Author's Note: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! From here on out we'll begin to heavily deviate from the show, and I hope you guys are as excited as I am for this. Please leave a review of what you think so far; it's incredibly motivating for me to see feedback for my work whether it be kind praises or constructive criticism!

Felon GT: No spoilers ;) Thanks for the review!

Guest: Thanks for the review, hope you stick around to find out!