TYRION
He bundled his furs tighter around his small frame, the wind was harsh and strong this morning, whipping and whistling through every nook and cranny within the stone bricks. The sky was still dark, a shadow of grey basking in the white of the clouds as droplets of snow gracefully descended from them. Fastening the golden pin of the hand of the queen to the breast of his robe he eagerly departed his chambers bound for the court's hall.
After breaking his fast on a plate of sausages, bacon, eggs and fish, polishing it off with a mug of dark beer. He hastily made his way to the council room.
They were due to leave this afternoon, the convoy of caravans, carts, barrels and horses was beginning to form up outside the city walls leading northbound on the kingsroad. Making his way through the council chamber doors, he observed the many characters gathered round the centre table, Jon and Daenerys stood at the helm with Lord Manderly to their left, beside him stood a younger man unfamiliar to Tyrion, thick brown hair slightly receded from his forehead curled at his neck connecting with his beard that was thick and full similar to the elder Manderly. His moustache flicked up either side of his face as it sat upon his mouth. He was dressed in black and grey garbs, a silver merman sat solitary on the left side of his chest.
Tyrion knew Lord Manderly had fathered sons, one had been killed during Robb Stark's wedding at the Twins, but he knew of no others. Taking his place at the table opposite them, he observed the map stretched out across the wood. Stark and Manderly sigil frames congregated together side by side around the coastal city flanked by two wooden dragon pieces, wings at full span. Four wooden horses lay along the kingsroad facing towards the north. A single black circle sat further north beneath Castle Black, with one smaller to the left at the Shadow Tower. To the south, three golden lion heads stood proudly each with its back to the capital isolating it from the outside world.
Hearing movement behind him to his left, Tyrion glanced to see the towering lady of Tarth round the table followed closely by his former squire, Podrick Payne, who exchanged a nod accompanied with a slight smile as he saw him. I am glad so to see him well, I wasn't sure I would see him alive again.
They had kept to themselves on the voyage north, as had the Hound and the young lad, Gendry. Tyrion had scarcely seen any of them. They took their place at the table close to Ser Davos, opposite them stood Grey Worm, Missandei level with the Unsullied commander, the spider lurking just beyond them.
"We're all set to move out this afternoon, just after midday." Jon began placing his hands on the table. "The weather doesn't appear to have favoured us so we'll have to take it slow. Ser Jorah should have met up with the Dothraki and will be garrisoning them at Castle Cerwyn. They will wait for us to reach them before we all march together to Winterfell."
"Have we heard word from the capital? From Cersei?" asked Daenerys. "Not as of yet." Replied Jon, "If they have sent word, they may have sent it straight to Winterfell, knowing that's where we're headed. Either way, I imagine we'll find out soon." No…no we won't. Tyrion thought solemnly. If he does know, how long will he keep his suspicions to himself.
"We have not seen the dragons since docking, your grace, will they return before we depart?" continued Jon
"They shouldn't have gone far, once they've fed, they should return swiftly. They won't abandon their mother."
"We may have to leave even if they don't, your grace." said Jon
"They will, I assure you." she insisted.
"Very well, there's also been word from the twins. Lothar Frey has mustered a small force and has taken control of the two towers. He's claiming to be the last living Frey and has named himself lord of the crossing. We don't know how strong this force is or even how legitimate these professions may be. House Frey were allies with House Lannister yet I'm unsure if this Lothar will honour that pact."
"He's lucky the horde won't pass through him." Added ser Davos. "He wouldn't be holding the crossing for much longer."
"They won't cross paths, will they?" Daenerys asked.
"They shouldn't, the twins are west of the kingsroad, assuming they've kept true to the north, they should bypass them entirely. We won't know until we reach Castle Cerwyn."
"There's still been no word from Eastwatch since the wall was breached." Jon continued. "Nor from Castle Black, I'm unsure if the Night King will move his armies directly south straight to Winterfell or if he'll sweep west along the wall to take Castle Black, then to the Shadow Tower. There aren't many black brothers left in the nights watch as it is but if this is an invasion, he'll want to move to cut off any points of word getting south of their movements."
"When we reach Winterfell, we may be able to utilise the dragons to scout ahead, though we will have to ensure a more than safe distance is kept. We can't afford to lose another one."
"If they do move directly south, we may find the fight sooner than we would want or maybe even already upon us." added Ser Davos.
"They may be moving slowly, from what I've seen, they tend to only move rapidly when engaging a living target. If they're trudging through the snow and sleet, it may work in our favour by slowing them down. I don't know if the Night King would risk flying ahead alone if the army can only move at a crawl pace so that would give us some extra time."
"You think he knows he has the numbers?" quizzed the onion knight.
"I could not say." replied Jon shaking his head.
"What is it that he want?" asked Daenerys.
"I don't know, not exactly at least." said Jon, "The only person who might know is my brother Bran. I'll need to speak with him thoroughly when we return. All I've seen from him is death and destruction and now he's bringing it to the realms of men."
His words marked by a heavy silence, making their situation seem ever more grave.
"For now, we move forward, we continue to make our way to Winterfell, it's the only place we can properly fortify to defend. I want us ready to mobilise within the hour."
"We will be ready Lord Snow." said Grey Worm.
"Aye, we'll be set." added Ser Davos.
The snow fell ever gracefully as midday arrived, the grey city covered in patches of white, speckles of white rain landing atop one another. The convoy cut like a knife through the oceans of snow either side as caravans, wagons, carts and collections of unsullied formed up outside the walls.
Tyrion could see figures of furs and leathers wrapped around themselves like layers of an onion peeling away as he made his way through the procession to his carriage. The cold was biting, sharp with edges as it sliced at his face through the fibres of his beard and hair. He wondered how the Unsullied would cope, marching along the road there. The cold affects men all the same, they all succumb…eventually…even those bred for war.
Yet Tyrion had never witnessed such discipline as that amongst the Unsullied, he never heard them complain, never saw them tire, never saw weakness of any kind displayed by them. He had heard that many across the Narrow Sea didn't see them as men, merely as weapons of war, unbending, unyielding, loyal to whoever owned them. They would give their lives to protect the north if commanded to do so. He imagined.
Passing a few more congregated throughout, grey furs and black leathers shielding them from the harsh winds, helms fastened tightly around their heads, spikes striding high into the chilly air. Reaching his carriage, he hoisted himself up and in, greeted by the plump, perfumed face of the spider.
"My lord."
"Varys." He said nodding in return.
"A less than comely cabin compared to our last wouldn't you agree? I wasn't built for this cold." The bald man said, shuddering as he fastened his furs tighter around him.
"Be glad we're not on horseback out there." replied Tyrion
"When will we be on the move?
"Not too much longer, they're still organising at the rear, I think-"
His words were interrupted by a piercing roar accompanied by a grey shadow that glazed over them. Manoeuvring himself to get a better view, Tyrion saw the remaining children of Daenerys glide amongst the clouds, descending further as they swooped down over the land headed towards the front, the sight of them was still a marvel to behold.
Drogon, dubbed the winged shadow, by many of the men, was like a black arrow arching across the grey sky. Rhaegal, the jaded emerald, was like a sharp blade of summer grass flickering through the winter air.
"The children have returned to see their mother." remarked the Spider.
"So it would seem." replied Tyrion.
"Do you ever wonder my lord, the bond between the beasts and their mother, how it is communicated? How it is felt? They say the bond linking a mother and her children is unworldly, something that can't be broken or weakened. That mothers hold their children's hand for a while and their hearts forever but Daenerys did not birth those dragons into the world, yet she relates to them in a way seemingly no other can."
"Do remember they share the same blood, the blood of the dragon runs thick in beast as well as in man. The bond they have must transcend beyond the physical, it is clear there is something of a deeper…spiritual perhaps…connection joining them together in some way." said Tyrion.
"The fiercest weapon in our arsenal…and we don't even fully understand how it works." observed the Spider.
"Maybe it's not for us to understand them fully, the Targaryens were not like everyone else. The magical mystery of Valyria flowed through them just as it did their mounts. And it is said, to be a dragonrider, one must possess the blood of Old Valyria, for all we know, the blood is the key."
"As it so often is my lord." replied Varys.
A myriad of shouts and bellows came from outside, ringing throughout the convoy. Horns rang from either side of them as the noise of ten thousand men and as many horses began to march north. The northman at the head of their carriage whipped the horses and a few seconds later they were on the move.
Their progress was slow, the wind whipped through their carriage with a vicious sting, snow collected on the edges if they were stationary for a moment. Most of the convoy became submerged beneath a white ocean during the night, shaking off the waves come the morning. Tyrion Lannister had not known cold like this in his living years. Keeping a grip on his flask kept the feeling in his fingers for as long as he could bring it to his mouth. He hardly recognised the road north as they traversed closer to their destination, any discernible structure he could see simply looked the same as the last. The only difference being if there was smoke rising from the chimney and livestock fussing in the stables. Any time the dragons flew overhead, darkness consumed the space for a brief moment, the light growls filled the winter air as their wings carved shapes through the snowfall.
They halted the march after the third day no more than a hundred yards west of the White Knife river, the camp set up by the mid-afternoon. Braziers popped up as a matter of urgency amongst the tents and carriages, quickly becoming focal points as hubs of men gathered round desperate for warmth. Lines stretched either side for bowls of hot stew and sliced bread, the scents washed over the nose of Tyrion Lannister as he weaved in and out of the clusters of bodies clinging onto the flask against his belly. The snow had ceased now the late afternoon had come, the sky was a pale grey like a smooth slab of stone, untouched and unmoving. To the south, a billow of clouds glided across the flush ashen plane, intertwining themselves like layers of scattered fabric. Rounding a few more tents, he spotted a small fire encircled by a few familiar faces. His saviour squire, Pod sat to the left of the flames polishing his sword, the tall knight, Lady Brienne sat to the right, her hands outreached towards the fire, embracing its heat.
"My Lady, Pod." He said in a low voice.
"Good to see you, my Lord." The young lad said with a smile.
"Lord Tyrion." Brienne replied flatly.
"May I join you?" asked Tyrion
"Of course." said Brienne, not taking her eyes off the flickering colours. Rounding the pair, he picked a small rock as his seat, mounting it opposite. Offering his flagon to Pod who eagerly accepted, he turned to the solemn knight,
"Everything's better with some wine in the belly, my lady."
"No thank you, I'm fine."
"I'll have another, if it's going?" Pod remarked with a cheeky grin.
Tyrion smiled as he handed the flagon back to the man who had once saved his life. He's come a long way. Tyrion thought. I hope he makes it through this war, he deserves too.
"Did you happen to see Bronn before you left, Pod?" he asked
"Not since the dragonpit no…haven't seen him since."
"You think he's still in the capital?"
"Unless he had a reason to leave, you think your sister would enlist him in her services?"
"If she paid him well enough, I wouldn't put it past him." Would he follow my brother if Jaime truly has fled the capital? Why would he walk a path that almost certainly leads to death.
"At Kings Landing, when you both went off before the meeting, what did you discuss?"
"Many a great things my lord, we spoke about my training with Lady Brienne, the progress I'm making. He spoke briefly about the expedition to Dorne with Ser Jaime. The failed expedition. Tyrion thought. He hadn't seen the Princess Myrcella for a number of years, yet felt a deep sadness when he'd heard word of her passing. Her murder…
"He did mention how your plan to bring one of those things to the capital may have been…slightly…outlandish…maybe foolish"
"He used those words, did he?" Tyrion asked with a wry smile.
"Words of that flavour my lord, some mayhaps more vulgar."
"Hmm…I can certainly imagine. He didn't speak of his plans moving forward."
"No my lord."
Who knows where he may be and who with, he could be on the other side of the Narrow Sea by now. I wonder if I will see him again.
Tyrion happened to notice the lion pommel at the hip of the blonde lady opposite him, a lion's head protruded from either side of the handle, glistening in a golden shimmer with ruby eyes as small as pin pricks. Scales layered upon themselves up the hilt towards a much prouder lion head, this one with a mane lined with silver golden edges, sharpened teeth lined its mouth like burning white razor blades, the ruby in its eye appeared to be exuding a crimson aura as it stared into his own. It was truly a mark of Lannister craftsmanship.
"Your sword looks strong my lady, a fine blade indeed."
"Thank you." she responded.
"It's Valyrian steel my lord." interjected Pod.
"Oh really, a rare and most impressive item of possession. How did you come by it my lady."
"It was given to me by your brother, my lord. It was re-forged from Lord Stark's greatsword. Ser Jaime bestowed the sword to me with the promise that I would find Lady Sansa and use it to protect her."
"When was this?"
"Shortly after I returned with Ser Jaime to the capital."
"I was not aware of that." He trusted her enough to gift her a Valyrian steel sword. "He must trust you a great deal my lady, to gift you such a marvellous blade."
"We have a mutual trust, he trusted me to find Sansa and get her somewhere safe when I returned him to Kings Landing. He's a good man, despite what everyone says, I believe there is honour in him." Deep down…there is. thought Tyrion.
"You must have been glad to see him at the Dragonpit". she said.
"I was, it was good to see him again, all things considered. I wasn't sure I would see him again after I went east."
"You didn't think you would ever return to Westeros my lord?" asked Pod.
"No…I didn't…until I met Daenerys in Meereen, I had fully resigned myself to a certain fate."
"What fate was that?" queried Brienne.
"I was going to drink myself into a hole and leave this world the way I came into it…alone." Tyrion almost felt a lump in his throat, reminiscing on how low he had felt when he emerged from that crate on the far side of the sea. That crate was the hole I thought I would be buried in.
"I murdered my mother simply entering this world, then I murdered my father when he was at his most vulnerable. The whole city thought I poisoned the king, and I lost the woman I loved. I had nothing when I crawled out of that wooden box, I had no money, no family…I was just another drunk dwarf covered in his own piss and shit."
"What made you recover then? To carry on?"
"A mixture of things really…being away from the Capital actually made me miss it, the comforts of the Red Keep, the politics of the small council…the arbor wine. Part of me wanted to return as soon as I landed in Pentos…but I knew I couldn't, it'd be suicide to go back."
"It was only when Lord Varys told me about this Targaryen princess in the slave city of Meeren, all the things she'd done, all the things she was currently doing and if she came to Westeros, all the things she could do. I hadn't seen that kind of belief or conviction from him in all the time I'd known him. When I was Hand, there were times I wondered who he was truly serving, sometimes I still question it now."
"Himself more than like, most people do." said Podrick.
"Indeed Pod…most do…but every now and then in life, you come across a scarce few who may actually be trying to do some good for others."
"And is he…trying to do good for others?" poised Brienne.
"I believe so." Tyrion said after a long pause.
"What about her? Do you believe in her, my lord?"
"I do Pod…I do…I believe if we win this war and take the Iron Throne…I believe she will be the best ruler for all of us. Certainly more than Cersei. But I understand it will not be a smooth transition for her, should she take the crown. The people still have ill thoughts when they hear the name 'Targaryen' and for good reason. No doubt she will have many grievances to deal with."
"We should try and get a training session before dark Pod. If you will excuse us Lord Tyrion?" Brienne announced as she got to her feet.
"Yes of course, of course." Tyrion observed as the two gathered themselves before heading off into the grey afternoon haze, Podrick bowing to him with a smile as he left. Extending his hands towards the burning logs, Tyrion's mind turned to wonder as his stomach grew to hunger, thinking on what news the spider may have received along with how many helpings of stew he was going to feast on.
They were back on the road in three days' time, the White Knife had frozen over through the nights, smooth and serene, different shades of blue and silver flittered amongst the ice like patterned waves. Icicles hung from branches of trees like shimmering bats. The ground was a crisp white for miles across the land, mostly untouched and undisturbed save for when the wind skimmed across the surface.
Tyrion Lannister surrounded himself with furs of all colours and thickness, a brown and black nest had formed on the seat of his carriage as they ventured closer to Winterfell. As he stirred in his seat, adjusting his eyes to the light, he felt the crisp coldness of the air on his face. The sun managed its glare across the crystal sky whilst pale clouds gathered to the north amassing as they imposed down upon the convoy. The surfaces of the carriage were ice cold to the touch, sprinkled with speckles of snow that stuck like glue.
The Spider opposite him, similarly submerged beneath an ocean of grey and white, his pale bald head bobbing side to side with the motion of the carriage as it bounced and grazed across the ground.
"Ah you're finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if the cold had gotten to you, my lord." It may be a more peaceful way to go. Tyrion pondered.
"Where are we?"
"Only about a day's ride from Castle Cerwyn now. Not much further to go."Rubbing his hands together beneath his robes, he attempted to generate some form of heat. Will this cold ever relent? The frost will kill us before the dead ever reach Winterfell
Tyrion spotted a slight smirk on the face of the spider, "So…what I have missed?" Removing his hand from beneath the grey pile of cloth, he handed Tyrion a raven scroll, "Arrived this morning my lord, most interesting whispers from near and far."
Uncoiling the parchment, Tyrion scanned the writing, Ser Jaime garrisons at Riverrun with a force some eight thousand strong, he rides north and has left the castle in the hands of the Tullys. Euron Greyjoy sails for the Capital, leading the Golden Company across the Narrow Sea with the full might of their army at the disposal of Queen Cersei Lannister. Unrest in the Capital, talk of Targaryen loyalists showing their colours, gold cloaks making arrests of tens maybe hundreds. Queen Cersei isolates herself in the Red Keep with her Hand Qyburn. Illyrio reports a band of mercenaries arriving in Pentos proclaiming to be supporters of the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Stormborn, seeking passage west.
"Jaime rides north? For Winterfell?"
"It appears he managed to muster a force after all."
"Who else knows?" Tyrion asked nervously.
"No one of our concern that I know of my lord but more will know soon enough, no doubt word of this will reach us once we arrive at Winterfell."
"He truly left her…and she truly lied." That heartless conniving soul-sucking wretch…used the only thing she knows I admire about her against me…when the fate of the world is at stake…no more…no more…
"How far is Euron Greyjoy from the Capital?"
"I know not my lord, he could have arrived today, he may be a week's voyage away. The arrival of the Golden Company will significantly boost your sister's resources and will certainly help provide stability to the turmoil brewing in the city."
"Cersei won't care about unrest amongst the smallfolk, she never has. And it is true, civilians are being arrested for announcing their support for Daenerys?
"Seemingly so my lord. They're spilling out from the nooks and crannies of every corner of the Capital…as planned."
Tyrion brought his gaze to match the Spider, "As planned?" He questioned
"This news provides room to move the pieces about the board my lord but a limited number of moves remain." He replied.
Cryptic
"You still have your little birds in King's Landing?"
"I still have my little birds in every kingdom my lord, my influence still remains as prevalent as it was when I sat the small council. It is deep rooted into the bricks of the Red Keep in addition to many other castles, both grand and minor."
"And they have been busy at work since our return to Westeros."
"Evidently so." said Tyrion, "What about in the east? Who is this Illyrio? Another dignitary in your employ I'm assuming?"
"More than that my lord, a dear friend of mine from my years in Essos whose scale of influence mirrors mine own."
I'm sure it does my friend
"So you have inside sources within the capital?"
The Spider nodded slyly in response.
"Most certainly my lord."
"Well…from now on I want to know everything Cersei does…where she goes…who she sees…what they talk about…and all in between. Do you understand?"
"I do, it will be done my lord."
See that it is
"Speaking of knowing everything, this band of mercenaries showing up in Pentos declaring for Daenerys, sounds quite familiar if you ask me."
"Indeed, my lord, our Second Son friend may have become disinterested in the people of Meereen."
"I don't believe he was particularly interested in the first place. From what I recall, there was only one person he was interested in." said Tyrion
"It's true, things may become complicated if he reunites with her, assuming of course it is them." added Varys.
"How many mercenary groups do you know in support of a Queen for a reason other than gold?"
"You may find yourself surprised with the results, my friend."
"Regardless, I'm sure he has his own reasons for coming here…and I'm sure we'll find out soon enough if he actually makes it to Winterfell."
"I'm guessing you will want reports of his movements if he does indeed land in Westeros."
"It's like you read my mind."
"The dynamic between him and Lord Snow will certainly be interesting to see if Daenerys stands before both of them."
"I think the threat of impending doom may slightly overshadow any sort of contest to win her favour. And even then, I'm sure Daenerys would make her own decision nonetheless."
"We both know my friend, of the two, who the more prosperous choice would be."
"Yes of course naturally…but a choice like that isn't exactly at the forefront of our problems at the moment."
"But possibly one for the future. The game is always in motion my lord. As I have said certain events can allow for particular pieces to be moved, one must only determine the best move before taking the next step."
"But who determines the best move? You?"
"You…others…the ones you want to prosper…the ones you want to fail. It all depends, my lord. The best move is the one that will give you the outcome that you desire, whatever that may be."