PART II: The Great Game


The Clouds Above

300 AC

The ascent up into the sky didn't last long.

Over the loud flapping of wings, and the rushing of wind in his ears, Starag Mormont kept calm as Bronzie continued gaining more and more distance from the ground below.

Eventually, however, all the tension and rough flying came to a sudden halt.

And now, as Mormont felt the great bronze dragon move into a steady glide, he felt his pulse slow down.

Rhaenys seemed completely calm, and completely at home with what they were doing. Mormont wasn't necessarily surprised by that, though. She'd been on dragonback before when this was his first time.

First time? Mormont posed the question to himself. He snickered, will there be more times like this?

His wife pressed herself into his arms, settling herself comfortably against his body. She gazed up at him with sparkling violet eyes that were laughing with excitement and… bliss.

She's happy to finally be sharing this with me, Mormont figured.

Mormont knew it was far more difficult for them to find time to themselves on Bear Island. He was practically a Lord Paramount by this point, judging by how many holdings were under his command, and more or less had the duties and responsibilities of a Lord Paramount at that. And Rhaenys herself was busy looking after their children, as well as making sure meals and events were organized, and seeing to the needs of Maege and her own children as well.

But now? Now, as Bronzie came into close contact with the misty white clouds themselves, and as Starag leaned up to run his hands through them, he let out an amused, and satisfied chuckle.

He pulled Rhaenys closer to him. She pulled his arm tighter against her chest, precisely where he knew she was sensitive.

Mormont leaned down to whisper in her ear. "This is what you wanted to show me this whole time, hmmm?" He glanced down at the mountain range below them. From upon Bronzie's back, potentially thousands of miles above, he could see the top of each mountain that passed under them.

Rhaenys perched her head in the crook between his neck and his chest. She looked softly up at him and nodded her head. "We never seem to get time alone, especially in the last few years…" She trailed off. "Sometimes I miss those days in the Water Gardens, you know? Just the two of us."

"Hmmm," Mormont noted. His mind was already teeming with ideas on how they could rectify that problem. "Even when you had Jon and the others push me into a pool?"

"Well, you were clearly planning on throwing me in it first."

"You wouldn't stop teasing me."

"What else is a girl supposed to do to a Man she's smitten with?"

"Compliment him, perhaps. Or offer a good back massage."

Rhaenys looked at him then. "I don't know how to perform a good massage."

"I'm sure you'd learn."

His wife smiled back at him and settled into him. "You're right. I would."

Neither of them said a word, only watching the clouds and the stars far above them. And then as they passed by another thick cloud, the whole of Westeros was revealed to them.

Far in the distance below, Mormont could see the Eyrie itself, and the Gates of the Moon below it. Then, to the south, he saw the gleaming citadel of King's Landing. And he even picked out the trifecta that was Aegon's Hill, Rhaenys' Hill, and Visenya's Hill.

His mind passed onto Jon and Ned, and he wondered briefly what they were doing at that moment. Probably sleeping, he figured. Both Stark men were far more regimented with their sleep schedules than he was. Mormont would sometimes get only a handful of hours' sleep when he was performing his duties as Lord of Bear Island, Sea Dragon Point, and the Stony Shore. But Jon and Ned would make sure they'd gotten a good night's sleep.

Mormont felt Rhaenys squeeze his hand, and he returned his attention to her. She stared into his eye for a few moments. "I missed you, Starag." She said in earnest. "I know it sounds silly, and I know you've only been gone a few moons, but…" She shook her head. "It's… difficult… living without you."

She noticeably blushed after replaying her own words within her mind. "Gods, I sound so stupid, don't I?"

Mormont shook his head gently. "Not at all." He kissed her neck, which only proved to deepen the red flush in his wife's cheeks. "And I'm not particularly surprised you came to find me yourself. I should've given you more duties to attend to."

Rhaenys laughed. "If it wasn't for those extra duties you gave me, I would've followed you sooner." She said happily. "I told Bronzie to find you a few weeks back, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"No! Just…" She sighed tentatively. "I was worried. It felt like you were holding something back when you told me about this journey. Just like you did with Valyria." Rhaenys squeezed his hand again. "I know you have your reasons and I won't question them. I just…" Rhaenys paused. "I want to help in any way I can."

So you can come home. He'd spelled out the rest of her message in his mind.

Mormont knew his occasional adventures stressed out his wife to no end. He was potentially heading right into danger (as Mormont's outings tended to lead him to it). Either that, or Mormont would be laying with another woman, which he knew tended to arouse a sort of anxiety in women.

Of course, Rhaenys knew about his vices. And he knew that she knew about them, too.

It was never spoken about between them. Rhaenys never asked, and Mormont never spoke about it. To do so would only disrupt his household unnecessarily, and to harm the woman he loved.

Mormont knew that he'd never give up Rhaenys for any other woman. Not even if it proved an advantageous match for him. Rhaenys was the mother of his children, and he loved her.

Yet, he knew that women were women, and so they carried their fears and worries with them always.

And it was up to him to resolve those stresses. And to reward her for being the devout woman she was to him.

"Turn around," he ordered. Rhaenys nodded and slid herself right around on the flat patch of Bronzie's back. Now she was facing him, looking up into his eye, and biting her lip.

Mormont took his wife's hands in his own. "When this is all over, and when Jon is settled back in Queenscrown and Ned is back at Winterfell, you and I are going to go to Dorne and visit your family."

Rhaenys' breath hitched. "But what about Bear Island? And Frostgate? And-"

"All will be handled by Dacey." Mormont smiled warmly. "She can hold down the fort for a week or two with Maege." He squeezed her hands. "And I can always send her letters from the Water Gardens. But we're going to go to Dorne after all of this. Just you and I. Understand?"

His wife smiled happily and sniffled. "Yes!" She said, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Mormont felt the joy emanating from the young woman in his arms. It was infectious to say the least. And it completely wiped out the presence of his own stresses and concerns from the prior few weeks.

The couple held each other for what felt like hours as they watched the night sky pass above them. The shimmering mirror that was the Sunset Sea gleamed bright with fresh torrents of moonlight.

By the time Bronzie had begun descending, Rhaenys had shifted to her previous seat, with her back to Mormont. Or rather, with her back pressed against his chest.

The descent was cool, and breezy. Far smoother than the rise into the sky had been. The ground had slowly been getting closer and closer, and soon enough, Mormont was able to pick out the long three-pronged fork that was the Trident. Almost as if he'd seen it on his old dusty map. Then, there was a shining beacon in the dark. The Inn at the Crossroads.

Bronzie landed in a large clearing perhaps a few miles north of the inn itself. There was a small pool of crystal water which had been iced over, and a fresh sheet of snow.

Mormont was the first to dismount Bronzie, nearly jumping off the dragon's back and landing firmly on the ground with both feet. Rhaenys was right behind him, though she stepped down from Bronzie's shoulders to do so.

"You're here to meet my uncle, is that right?" She asked.

"Mmmhmmm." Mormont nodded, looking into the forest around them, like a predator would scan his environment before making his first move. "Might've taken me a few weeks to get here from the Mountains." The coast was clear. "Now, I don't have to bother with all that climbing."

"Hmmm…" Rhaenys pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Too proud to admit that you can't do everything yourself?" She raised her dark red eyebrows playfully. "That you needed the help of a good woman, and that you just aren't the lone wolf you thought you were?"

Starag Mormont finished his analysis of his surroundings, and turned to look at the much shorter woman standing before him. There was a sort of knowing smile played across her lips.

Mormont smiled back, walking carefully towards her. "Alright," He said as he stood a foot away from her. "Without you, I couldn't have gotten here in time. I needed the help of a woman." He trailed off, looking at her lips, both of which were open. "It appears I'm not the lone wolf I thought I was, Rhaenys."

His wife uncrossed her arms and played unceremoniously with her hands, as if she were a girl speaking with a boy she was smitten with all over again. She broke eye contact briefly, and then gazed back up at him. "Well…" She seemed caught off guard. "I just wanted to hear you say that, my love."

Mormont smirked. That was when he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Rhaenys leapt into him, wrapping her own arms around his neck. Mormont pressed his lips against hers, and Rhaenys against his.

The battle between them hadn't lasted long. Rhaenys had given way, allowing Mormont to explore her mouth with his tongue. All the while he reached inside her shadowskin coat and squeezed one of the two fleshy mounds that was on her chest. He felt the hard nipple underneath her shift, which was firm with desire for him.

When they separated for air, Rhaenys had already had her legs wrapped around his waist. She decided to lean her forehead against his own and catch her breath. Meanwhile, Mormont had breathed in her scent of charcoal and honey.

"Can we stay like this for a bit longer?" She asked. Her violet orbs were pleading with him. "Please?"

Mormont would've loved to have done that. This woman meant the world to him. She'd given him four strong children, and would bear him plenty more. As many as the gods would give them.

But now wasn't the time.

Mormont's professional side had taken over. Bronzie would need to be clear of this place. Soon enough, the early rising hunters would begin plying their trade. And if anyone saw Bronzie flying around during the night, armies would be fielded within weeks. And Mormont refused to put his wife in harm's way. Her place was at Bear Keep, with their children.

"No." Mormont said. "Not now, at least." He gently set her down. "I need you to head back home and stay there. No outings like tonight, no late night flights with Bronzie. Nothing. You'll wait in Bear Keep until I send for you, or until I come back myself." His tone was firm. "Understand?"

"Yes."

"Say that you understand, Rhaenys."

"I understand, my love."

Mormont smiled, and kissed his woman on the forehead. "Good." He turned. "Things are going to get rough here. And you'll be no use to me in the South." He said. "Our children will need you, and so will our people."

Rhaenys nodded, though sad, she understood what he was saying. "I'll look after them."

"Good girl." He said.

Before he turned to leave, Bronzie had finished cracking open and drinking from the ice pond. She craned her long serpentine neck towards him, and her two grey-blue eyes focused tenderly on him as her snout was mere inches from his face. What about me? She seemed to ask.

Mormont chuckled and petted the great bronze dragon along the bridge of her nose. "I haven't forgotten you, sweetheart." He said, taking on the same tone as he would with a dog. "Remember what I said about these late night flights?"

I haven't forgotten, Bronzie's eyes seemed to say before they gave Rhaenys a sideways glance. She's just getting worried, and I get dragged along with her.

"Good girl." He said calmly, scratching a soft spot underneath her chin. Bronzie's eyes lit up with delight as she craned her head upwards.

"Ahem."

Mormont glanced at the source of the interruption. Rhaenys was standing with her arms crossed. "I thought I was only called 'good girl'?"

"Bronzie can be one too." Mormont said in the dragon's defense. "I daresay she's better behaved than most dragons her age."

"Well…" Rhaenys unfolded her arms. "I suppose that is true." She said as she joined him in petting Bronzie. "Just… be careful, alright? For me?"

Mormont laid his hand over hers and squeezed it one more time.

"Always."


It had taken Mormont roughly an hour to walk to the Inn at the Crossroads.

After seeing Rhaenys and Bronzie fly off to the North, Mormont decided to break for the Inn. He didn't know how long Oberyn had been there-if he was still there at all.

And by the time he'd walked inside the great snow capped tavern (remembering to dip his head underneath the shorter door frame, of course) Mormont was somewhat thankful to see a few patrons still sitting about and ordering drinks. Even if it was probably past midnight by now.

Not to mention, his more recent thoughts had been of fresh, piping hot stew filled with onions, potatoes, and meat that was about ready to fall off the bone.

His arrival had not necessarily put anyone out of place. Those who were present in the long and drafty common room were already drunk as it was. Despite his height, a few patrons had grinned happily at him, saluting their umpteenth mug of ale at him before sloppily taking another sip.

Mormont simply nodded back to each of them and approached the middle-aged woman who managed the bar. "Evening," He said to her with a polite smile. "Don't think I've seen you here before. You must be Martin's daughter,"

His greeting had caught the woman off-guard. She was clearly aging, due to the silver wrinkles in her wiry blonde hair, and with her plump cheeks and generous waistline. Yet, she'd accepted it and laughed all the same. "Oh, you're a charming one, you!" She said happily. "No, I'm actually Martin's sister. Name's Masha. Martin went off to sleep earlier. Said he wasn't feeling too good."

"That's a shame." Mormont said with a frown. "He's a good friend of mine. My name is Starag Mormont."

Masha seemed surprised. "Oh! Were you that Mormont fellow who's squire had a bad hit against the 'ead? Some bad business with another lord, was it?"

"The one and only." That had been nearly seven years ago. Jon was assaulted by Horace Blount, and Mormont had stepped in ready to kill both Blount and his men. If Wendel Manderly hadn't arrived, that scene might've played out very differently. "I'm here to see a friend. Don't know if you've seen him before? Dornish fellow, black hair, dark eyes, charming."

The innkeep had gone back into her thoughts, trying to make a match with the description Mormont had given her. "Don't think I've seen a man like that around 'ere." She narrowed her eyes for a moment at him. "Dornish folk like to stay further south during the winter."

Damn. Had he been too late? Or was it too early?

He didn't know, and that frustrated him. If he'd only come here sooner, perhaps Oberyn might've still been here, and would've been able to shed light on what was really going on behind Jon Arryn's death. Mormont grit his teeth in frustration. Blast!

And yet… Perhaps there was a chance that Oberyn had yet to arrive. Or maybe he'd come to the Inn several times just to check and see if Mormont was there.

Mormont decided then that he'd stay at the Inn for three days. If Oberyn didn't show, then he'd make his way to King's Landing and reunite with Jon and Ned. He'd probably make it just in time to tell them about Robert Arryn's plans with his aunt before everything came crashing down on them.

He looked at the innkeep. "Do you have a room available?"

Masha nodded. "Why yes we do," She said. "Soft featherbed, warm hearth. It's up on the second floor. How long will you be staying, Ser Mormont?"

"Three days," He said, having already procured the single gold dragon and slid it across the bar. "Will that be enough?"

Masha nearly sputtered upon seeing the solid gold coin. "B-B-But Ser! That's-"

"Will it be enough?" He repeated his question.

She nodded hastily, reluctantly accepting the coin. "A-Aye, it will be Ser. But surely there's something I can-"

Mormont could go a few more hours without food. Just in time for breakfast. "Wake me up when you begin serving food. I happen to be quite famished."

Masha nodded. "Of course, Ser!"


Two days had passed by at the Inn at the Crossroads. And Starag Mormont was bored.

Usually, he'd always have some kind of project or piece of work to fall back on in case he did get bored back on Bear Island. Alleviating his boredom then would be as easy as pie, since he'd have something else to focus his creative energies on. Another plan of attack to devise, another figurative land to conquer.

But now… Mormont was left doing fuck all except to eat food and smoke his pipe.

Even the barmaid hadn't nearly reached his standards as far as physical attraction went. So she was out of the equation. And there was no friend of his to play chess with or spar with verbally. He was left listening to the smallfolk speak of their mediocre problems in the meantime.

And still, Mormont kept his eye squarely fixed on the front door of the tavern. Always watching in case the next man to walk in was the Dornishman he'd shared so many adventures with.

It was then that Masha had approached him with a beaming smile on her face. "Would you like some more coffee, Ser?"

Mormont nodded back, returning the woman's smile. "I would. With some more honey as well if you have any."

"That I do! Coming right up!" She said as she clapped her hands together and made her way by the tavern that was filling up with more and more patrons. Most of them simply common fisherfolk from the village nearby come to spend their money to forget their sorrows, or to enjoy a drink with their friends.

Half of these men could be good soldiers. He mused to himself as he drank the last few dregs of his coffee. But they choose to be farmers.

"Copper star for your troubles, my lord?"

Mormont calmly glanced to his left, at a rather grizzled-looking, cloaked man sitting at the table next to him. Underneath the gray hood was a black beard that was bordering on unkempt.

Yet… There was something… familiar… in that voice.

"I don't have any copper." Mormont answered, putting his palm on Longclaw's pommel underneath the table. "Only gold, though."

"Ah, and how unfortunate it would be for me to relieve you of it." The cloaked man smiled wickedly.

Mormont grinned back and stood up from his seat. The cloaked man did the same and drew back his hood, revealing him to be none other than Oberyn Martell himself-if a bit grizzled-looking.

"Oberyn, you bloody madman!" Mormont embraced the smaller man with ease. "You've no idea how good it is to see you."

"And you as well, my friend." Oberyn had just as easily returned the embrace. "I trust your journey was easier than mine?" He asked, moving to Mormont's table and sitting across from him.

"Not in the least." Mormont said. "I came here from the Vale. Stopped by the Eyrie where Robert Arryn had the balls to insult me, my house and family, and then tell me he's about to start a bloody war." He finished his coffee and spat on the floor. "Then he locks me in a cell."

Oberyn nodded with a slight smile. "It seems he didn't keep you for long, though."

Mormont shook his head. "No, I managed to escape. Then I made my way here." He leaned forward. "But what about you?"

The Red Viper's black eyes took on a sudden bitter gleam. "I had been continuing my travels across the Narrow Sea when I received word from Doran." He leaned forward.

"In a letter, he told me in code what was happening in Dorne. So, I smuggled my way onto a ship in Tyrosh heading for Gulltown. They are searching for me in Sunspear as we speak, and my daughters are being held in the Water Gardens, along with my brother and his children." He grit his teeth. "They are powerful, Starag. And far more dangerous than I expected."

"Who is 'They'?" Mormont asked. It was down to business. "And what is going on?"

Oberyn looked sharply at him before glancing around the tavern twice. Then, he looked back at him again and leaned forward. In a whisper, he spoke.

"Aegon is alive."

Mormont paused, and replayed those three words again in his head. Then one more time for extra measure. "Aegon is alive?" He was about to say that was impossible, as he'd seen Aegon's smashed-in head himself, yet he'd also once been wrong about Rhaenys' death. Not to mention, Mormont never once thought he'd be capable of shooting lightning bolts from his fingers. At this point, anything was possible.

"Yes." Oberyn said warily. "Or supposedly he is. My brother received a visit from Jon Connington. You remember him, yes?"

"I do…" Connington? That hadn't been a name Mormont had heard for some time. Not since Robert's Rebellion. He lost to Robert at the Battle of the Bells, and then fled to Essos. But hadn't he drank himself to death? "Didn't he die in Essos?"

Oberyn shook his head. "No. Connington is very much alive, my friend. And he is in service to Aegon."

Mormont realized just how dangerous this meeting was. If Aegon was alive, wouldn't Oberyn want to protect him?

The Red Viper had already solved that mystery for him. "Connington and Doran say it is Aegon…" He said, clearly furious. "But I do not believe it to be him. If Aegon had survived the Sack, would he not have found his way to Dorne when he came of age? Would his protectors not have sent him to us?"

Mormont supposed that Oberyn had a point. Jaime Lannister had been responsible for Rhaenys' survival, and he had sent her on a ship to Sunspear after cutting her hair and giving her new clothes. Not even a full week after Robert had taken the throne.

Aegon likewise would've also been safer with his own family. Mormont didn't suppose Aegon gave them a reason for his absence, either.

And yet… Why would Aegon hold his own family hostage? If they were his family, would he not trust them absolutely?

"You say your family is being held hostage…" Mormont said. "How?"

Oberyn glanced around the tavern once again. "By threat of dragonfire." He said.

To which, Mormont's gaze had turned stony. "What?"

The Red Viper elaborated. "It is not just Aegon, but also his aunt, Daenerys. They took Dragonstone in less than a day, captured and imprisoned Stannis and his family, and then silenced all communication. Aegon has already amassed a great army on Dragonstone, but it is Daenerys who has brought three dragons. Aegon is said to be a rider to one of them. He-"

He cut himself off as Masha approached their table once again. She smiled at the both of them as she set down the fresh pot of coffee and an extra mug along with a jar of honey. "Is there anything else you'd like Ser Mormont? Anything for your friend?"

Mormont shook his head. "We're fine, thank you." He said. It was probably best that they both keep their stomachs empty.

Masha gave them both a curtsy and left the two of them alone once more, heading to another table nearby.

Oberyn continued. "He has command of an army over fifty thousand strong. Hundreds of sellsword companies from all over Essos have joined him, even the Golden Company. He has a fleet of ships at his command as well, and controls his aunt's army of Unsullied. And to make matters worse, most of the Crownlands' is under his control."

Fifty thousand? By the Old Gods… Mormont smoothed back his hair and reached for his pipe. And he has three dragons to boot. Mormont only had one, and Jon had another himself. But Daenerys and Aegon had three.

The combined armies in King's Landing barely made up ten thousand strong alone. And that was with the City Watch being taken into account.

"How does it tie to Jon Arryn's death?"

"It was Aegon who ordered it. Connington said this to Doran. And that he ordered for Robert to be killed as well, though in a more specific fashion. It was the Spider who carried out Lord Arryn's killing, while a small group of Unsullied killed Robert."

What?! Robert was dead too? How could that have happened? And if Varys was behind Jon Arryn's death… "Why?"

Oberyn looked at him calmly. "Jon Arryn was settling the dispute between Lysa Tully and Tywin Lannister too early. If Westeros is united before their arrival, it will be more difficult for Aegon and his aunt to take over Westeros without seeming the part as foreign conquerors."

"But if Westeros is divided, they could simply roll in and clean things up. They'd be hailed as heroes." Mormont finished. Clean up what exactly? The conflict between the Tullys and Lannisters? That wasn't exactly a continent-wide event. It was far more localized.

No, there'd need to be something big happening soon. Something that would set off the cascading invasion, the benevolent arrival of the Targaryen heirs from across the Narrow Sea, come again to claim their rightful throne and set things right throughout the realm once more. But what was it?

And when was it going to go off?

Why let the Starks clean up the Tully-Lannister conflict? Why not have Eddard Stark poisoned?

The answer came to him then. Varys and Aegon knew about Robert Arryn's plan with Lysa Tully. Or probably put two and two together and knew Robert Arryn would declare war on House Lannister. All they needed was just a little more time for Robert Arryn and Lysa Tully to organize everything and play their hand.

That had to have been it. But surely that wasn't enough to justify a Targaryen restoration, right?

Mormont sat forward. "Do Jon and Ned know about this?"

Oberyn shook his head and grit his teeth. "Not to my knowledge. I tried to warn them several times, but I could not get close enough without tripping over Varys' spies. They are both being watched night and day and are trailed everywhere. I couldn't tell them without putting my own family in harm's way."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. "Shit." Mormont's senses were firing off. This was it. They'd single handedly walked right into the enemy's trap. He needed to get to King's Landing. And fast.

"We have to leave." Mormont stood up sharply from the table. "You have a horse?"

"I have two," Oberyn said, rising with him. "I needed to get around the Crownlands quickly, but you can use the extra mount. What will we do?"

"We've got to tell them the truth. This is far bigger than any of us realized." Mormont said as he strapped Longclaw to his belt. Tempest was already on the axe hook on his back, and his satchel with a day's worth of rations. "Let's go."

By the time they were out the door, the coffee pot was still steaming.


The Great Sept of Baelor

300 AC

Jon Stark felt out of place in the Great Sept of Baelor.

He knew that one of his most famous ancestors had built this place so long ago, and he, more than anyone else, should feel at home inside it.

Yet, Jon could not bring himself to shake the feeling of discomfort he felt right now inside these hallowed halls.

Admittedly, Ghost was not at his side. Jon and his father had decided to leave them behind at the Red Keep out of respect for Robert's funeral, and for the faith which deeply opposed their existence. For the sake of their being little to no conflict on the matter, both Ghost and Lya were not there.

And then there was the fact that Jon Stark was standing before the corpse of a man who he should, by all counts, hate with a virile passion.

Robert Baratheon had killed his biological father, Rhaegar Targaryen, had paraded the supposed death of his sister, Rhaenys, and had chortled over the dead bodies of Aegon and Elia Martell.

It was Jaehaerys Targaryen, who had more than enough reason to despise the Stag King, even if he was on his way to an early grave.

But Jon Stark was not Jaehaerys Targaryen, not as he solemnly watched the procession of visitors approach the body of the dead king and say what they wanted to say to him.

He felt an unusual sadness at the death of this man. Robert had been nothing but kind to him, though it was due to misplaced belief, it was difficult to shake those memories from his mind. And a part of Jon did wish that Robert would simply rise from the altar he laid on and spread his arms wide while cracking back an overly amused grin. Haha! You thought I was dead, but I got you all, you shits! Bow before your king, eh! Bow before your king you slack jawed mongrels!

Or at least that was what Jon imagined Robert would say.

Beside him, his father stood tall and proud like a statue, watching the procession as well. Further down the aisle stood the rest of the Small Council. Petyr Baelish was present, along with Varys, Pycelle, and Renly.

Why isn't Stannis here? Jon wondered to himself. It would've taken a day at the most to cross Blackwater Bay from Dragonstone. And that was if the winds were unkind.

No, surely Stannis Baratheon wouldn't miss his brother's own funeral? That seemed incredibly out of character judging by what Jon had heard of him.

It was a detail which, Jon noticed, was also distressing his father.

Eddard Stark seemed ever watchful of the procession. And he also eyed the gateway which led out to the plaza that stood before the great dome of Baelor's Sept. As if Stannis Baratheon would appear there and make his way inside.

Jon returned his gaze to the altar, where it seemed Joffrey was kneeling before the corpse of Robert. He was crying, weeping ugly tears that bordered on being either infantile or feminine. Even Tommen and Myrcella were holding it together far better than Joffrey was.

Cersei was leading the three of them by the hand, though she herself had to play the part of the grieving wife. Jon could tell, however, there was no sympathy for the dead man in her soulless cat-green eyes. If anything, she seemed to glow a bit brighter as she led her children away from the altar.

Was it her? It would seem so simple, wouldn't it? Yet her reaction the other day proved otherwise. Perhaps, she had been trying to have Robert killed for years, and someone had beaten her to the punch. Even though it wasn't her who had done the deed, at least she could savor her victory.

Jon glanced over towards Baelish. And him? Baelish had perhaps a far bigger motive. If Jon's suspicions were correct, Baelish had successfully embezzled millions upon millions of gold dragons from the Crown's coffers. While he'd been able to multiply those funds, it didn't mean he was putting the proceeds into the Crown's pocket. In fact, Jon would bet his Valyrian Steel sword that he wasn't. Where? Some private account with the Iron Bank? Some other bank in Essos? Or perhaps in Lannisport?

Baelish had the gold to smuggle the ash-water from Asshai to Westeros, and he'd certainly be capable of hiring soldiers using arrows tipped with Manticore Venom to kill Robert.

But why would Baelish kill Robert? The Stag King was a lavish spender, and he only fueled Baelish's efforts. He was a useful cover story for Littlefinger's exploits.

Had he deliberately chosen to expose himself, and why?

Then there was Jon's final suspect: The Spider. But-

Where was the Spider?

Jon distinctly remembered Varys had been standing next to Baelish just a few minutes prior. Where had he gone?

Jon began scanning the great dome for the bald, fat eunuch. Varys was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he'd vanished into thin air.

He stepped closer to his father. "Varys is gone."

His father nodded and also began looking around for the eunuch. "Where do you think he went?"

"I don't know." Jon said. "But I-"

Jon cut himself off as he heard something approaching. No, it wasn't something, it was a group of people. Soldiers.

Metallic footsteps clanged against marble flooring. Jon glanced up to the main gateway and saw them. The sigil of the leaping silver trout on a field of mud red and blue was plain to see on their coats and armor. What is going on? Why are they here?

Then, Jon had seen Lysa Tully arrive at the head of the group of over a hundred men-at-arms. She marched down the stairs with the air of authority that befit her station: Lady Paramount of the Riverlands.

And Jon saw who she was marching to.

The Lannisters.

They were to the right of Robert's corpse, standing together besides Jaime, who was standing guard up by one of the pillars. Though he too seemed like he wanted to intervene.

But Lady Tully simply marched on and on until she arrived before Tywin Lannister himself.

It was Jon's father who sprang into action. Jon followed him and approached the growing group. "Lady Tully! I demand to know why you've interrupted the King's funeral."

Lysa Tully did turn to Jon's father and bowed slightly. "I apologize, Lord Stark. I've received word from my nephew, Lord Robert Arryn, that Tywin Lannister is responsible for the death of his father." She said stolidly. "And of my own brother."

Tywin had bristled. "A brash girl you are for making such treasonous claims here of all places." It was a line more said for the crowd. Jon never took Tywin as a religious man.

More than a few of the men at Lysa's side had tried to draw their blades, but she stopped them with a calm wave of her hands.

"What proof do you have of these claims, Lady Lysa?" Eddard Stark was not convinced. "And why did your nephew neglect to inform me of this?"

Now, it seemed, Lysa was put on her backfoot. "Lord Arryn had discovered a treasonous secret; that the Queen's children were not sired by King Robert, but from a cousin in her own family." There were many gasps coming from all around. "It is common knowledge that the King had sired many bastards, yet unlike the Queen's spawn, all of his own natural-born children carried his look. Black of hair and blue eyes."

"How dare you!" Cersei spat violently at Lysa Tully. Now she seemed more like the vicious lioness defending her newborn cubs. Especially as she stood in front of her children, almost guarding them from the Tully soldiers. "Lord Stark, I demand you arrest this rump-faced wench for making such treasonous claims now!"

Lysa, however, ignored the interruption, and then turned to Jon's father. "You yourself know of one, Lord Stark. A girl named Mya Stone. She resides in the Vale by the Gates of the Moon. Do you not agree she carries a resemblance to the King?"

"Conjecture, is it?" Tywin said coldly. "You're basing your evidence on the coloring of individual children? Why am I not surprised?"

"Enough!" Eddard Stark's voice had thundered throughout the dome the same way the bells had rung when Robert's body was brought into this place. He looked to Lysa. "I'm not convinced, Lady Lysa. Your claims are grave indeed, and unless you can provide solid evidence, I will be summoning the City Watch to take your men into custody."

As the party raged on, Jon thought he felt something beneath his feet. A slight rumbling that echoed from far below the Sept's foundations. Probably nothing.

"-They killed Lord Arryn, I am certain of it. If you will simply allow me to arrest Lord Tywin and his daughter I will-"

"Lies and conjecture." Tywin cut in, looking to Jon's father. "You see what I mean, Lord Stark? The woman is half mad, making claims with no proof. And she is betraying the terms of our agreement. Clearly she needs to retire."

The rumbling beneath his feet got stronger and more violent. Jon swore that the floor was almost shaking by now.

It seemed as if some of the others had noticed it. Plenty of the soldiers and priests had been looking around the dome, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Yet…

"If you insult me again, Lord Tywin, I shall order my men to take swift action."

"No, you will not." Jon's father had ordered. "One more word from either of you and you'll both be put in the Black Cells. Is that understood?"

That was when all hell broke loose.

Erupting from the floor on the other side of the room came a great green spurt of emerald flame. It sprouted from the floor like a destructive plant, consuming and burning the marble, the wood, and the people near it.

Screams broke out from all over the dome. People all around them sprang into action as they tried to knock over the escort of Tully soldiers in a desperate act to escape.

Jon and his father looked to one another, and then to the others. It was unspoken between all of them. We need to get out of here.

Renly had been one of the first. He'd been closest to Robert's corpse as another pillar of fiery green flames exploded upwards from the cracked open marble flooring, effortlessly incinerating Robert's body, and scorching away Renly's face and arms.

The rumbling beneath Jon's feet increased tenfold in less than a few seconds. It was as if the earth was quaking, almost like one of the Fourteen Flames had begun erupting all over again. He and his father made to climb the marble stairs as the Great Sept of Baelor began collapsing all around them in a haze of emerald green fire.

As Jon reached out to grab Myrcella's hand, he wasn't prepared for the sharp lurch that had shifted the ground beneath him. The floor cracked apart effortlessly, opening up into a dark chasm, separating him and Myrcella. He fell onto his back, feeling his head wrap hard against something. In a daze he looked up at the ceiling and widened his eyes upon seeing the iron beams in the ceiling split away from the marble and begin descending upon the gathered crowd.

And one of them headed straight for him.

"Jon!" He heard his father shout. He felt someone drag him away from the falling iron spearhead, just in time for it to strike into the floor barely a foot away from where his head had been.

Yet before Jon could get back on his feet, the earth opened up once more. Now the great yawning chasm was filled with torrents of green fire and inky black darkness. It split apart the entire dome within seconds.

The last thing Jon Stark had heard before he fell into the dark abyss, were the one thousand different voices screaming out in terror.

And then, the world turned to black.