Kings Landing 307 AC.
The Honorable Smuggler.
The city welcomed their new king and queen with open arms. Most of the small folk had heard tales of Jace's life and truth already, despite the best efforts of Bran and Tyrion to quieten those tales. Just knowing that Desmera was Margaery Tyrell's cousin and Olenna's granddaughter was almost enough for them to take their new queen to heart. Davos had no doubt that once they actually saw them rule and got to know them even better, the welcome would mayhap then turn to love.
Stannis may have rarely spoken about the Targaryens and all knew of Aerys' madness. However, Queen Rhaella, Prince Rhaegar, Princess Elia. Beyond them, Jaehaerys the Second and further back the Conciliator and the Good Queen among others, were all beloved. Davos knowing the true nature of his king's heart, having come to know what he believed lay in his queen's, was certain that alone would be enough for people to name them a good king and queen. Before that, however, Jace would do things that would mayhap name him a cruel one.
None but Jace himself knew exactly what fate he had in store for Tyrion Lannister and Samwell Tarly. They would die, of that, there was no doubt. What form that death was to take, was a different matter. A part of Davos wondered if he should offer his own suggestions. If those suggestions would be welcomed or wanted. While another, larger part, whispered in his ear that on this his advice wasn't needed or wished for. That just as Jace had dealt with the catspaw who'd tried to take his wife and babe from the world, he'd deal with Tyrion and Sam just as violently.
"Whether that will be in public or behind closed doors is mayhap all my words can influence," Davos said rising to his feet.
Looking around the solar that was now his, Davos found he liked it not. Tyrion despite claiming to hate his family and his father most of all, had decorated the Tower of the Hand and his own chambers almost in a mirror image of how Tywin Lannister once had. Be that to mock his heritage as he would likely claim, or because deep down he still sought his father's approval and love, which was far more likely. Regardless of what was the truth of it, Davos would see every tapestry, painting, and sigil that represented House Lannister removed and burned. Though he had no wish to replace them with his own sigil once he'd done so. His shame over the loss of his son wouldn't allow him to do so and instead, it would be Jace's new one that he decorated his chambers with.
Moving to the door, Davos readied to break his fast and wondered if he'd be doing so with the king and queen this morning. Sometimes it would be with one or both of them, while at others Jace and Desmera would eat alone. The king and queen wished for and were given their privacy and Davos welcomed that they were getting along even better than he had dared to hope they would. Long had it been since the realm had known a king and queen that truly cared for each other after all.
With a nod to his two guards, both men of the Free Folk, Davos made his way from the Tower and across the courtyard, soon coming to the entrance into the Red Keep proper and on to Maegor's Holdfast. For now, the Household guard was made up of men of the Company of the Rose, men of the Reach, and Jace's Free Folk. Soon enough, they'd appoint a truer Household Guard and men they could trust to the Gold Cloaks. However, how long they would have to do so before Jace turned his attention to the North was still unknown to him. Reaching the door that led to the private apartments, Davos asked the guards if the king and queen were inside and he was told they were breaking their fast.
"I'll join them then." he nodded to the guard as he was allowed entry and walked down the long corridor that led to the private dining room.
It took him no time at all to reach it and once he did, he again nodded to the guards outside the door. These two both wearing the white cloak of the Kingsguard and Ser Triston and Ser Sigorn offered him a warm greeting as the former knocked on the door. It was the white wolf rather than his king or queen that Davos saw first. Ghost who welcomed him into the room before Tormund then did likewise. Jace simply motioned to the table where food was laid out while Ser Humfrey moved out a chair close to the king for Davos to sit at.
"Your grace, my queen," Davos said as he took a seat, the warm plate of food he held in his hand looking more than appetizing to him and his empty belly.
"Good Morrow, Davos." Desmera greeted him happily.
"You're late, Davos, sleep in?" Jace asked, his tone light and cheery making his question one that Davos knew was half a jape.
"I had some work I wished to make ready for later, Jace," Davos replied.
As always with his king, the lines between formality and casualness were often blurry. Propriety and protocol were always observed when others were present, but at informal moments such as this, Davos knew that Jace preferred to be named as such rather than by his title. In this, his queen was much the same. However, Davos had spent far less time around Desmera and so often it was by her title he addressed her until she bid him do so differently.
The conversation around the meal was light and it seemed as if there were few pressing worries on either the king or queen's minds. Davos' late arrival was only topped by Val arriving a few moments after he did. Something that earned both the Wildling Princess and Ser Humfrey, smirks from both Jace and Tormund. Only the latter of those deciding to add mocking words to those looks. Which earned him a stiff elbow in his rips from Val in the process and brought a true smile to Jace's face upon seeing it.
A kiss to his wife's lips and words whispered in her ear, was followed by a look to first Tormund and then to Davos himself. Both of them then joined the king and Ser Humfrey when they moved to the door. Leaving Ghost, Ser Triston, and Ser Asher who'd replaced Ser Sigorn so the wildling could take to his bed, they walked down the corridors and then up some stairs. The parapets were it seemed to be their destination rather than the king's chambers and seeing the Golden Eagle and the Red Dragon in the sky once they reached them, enough to tell why that was so.
"By the gods, he's grown even more," Davos said upon seeing the Red Dragon.
Where once Aegerax was dwarfed by Syrax, now the opposite was true. The Red Dragon was almost the size of Ghost, with his wings stretching for at least ten feet from tip to tip. Both were still babes who wished for their father's attention and praise, however. Davos and Tormund both chuckled as they watched them receive it. A sight which made Davos long to see the same expression on Jace's face when his son or daughter was born. For he wagered that babe would know more than its share of a father's love.
"Aye, go and rest, you've both earned it," Jace said softly to the two incredible beasts. Davos looked on as they did just as they'd been bid to.
"The Black Dragon, Jace?" Tormund asked warily. Drogon having not been seen since the city fell.
"Is far from our shores mayhap never to return."
"For true?" Davos asked relieved.
"I know not for certain, Davos. Yet I believe it to be so as does the Lady Malora."
"'Tis a relief to know that the only dragon we need concern ourselves with is your own," Davos said happily.
"For now, mayhap. In time we'll know three more and after that, even more."
"The eggs?" Tormund asked.
"Belong to my children. While there are more out there to be found for their own children and in time, others will be lain."
"They will?" he asked curiously.
"Soon enough I'll not be the last of my line, Davos. Soon enough the sky and the realm will be full of dragons once more." Jace smiled.
They made their way to Jace's solar, Tormund leaving them long before they got there. Once inside, Ser Humfrey took his place at the door for now, while he and Jace took their seats. Davos waved off the offer of wine and welcomed the water instead, which Jace himself partook of. It was lists and notes that he was handed first, Davos reading them all before he and Jace spoke a word to each other. Jace, sitting back in his chair and allowing him to do so in silence.
"These ones that are unmarked?" he asked pointing to the positions on the Small Council that Jace had left unfilled.
"I know not the names I wish to appoint as of yet. Nor does my wife have any recommendations that I'm forced to accept."
"Forced?" he asked with a chuckle.
"Aye, a poor choice of words. Persuaded mayhap works better."
"A wife's persuasion is no little thing, Jace," Davos said to a true laugh from his king.
"No, 'tis not," Jace replied after a moment. "Your own position, Lady Malora's both are certain to me. Marwyn the Mage is who I'm being told I should accept as my Grand Maester. A friend of my Grand Uncle's and a man mentioned much in letters written by my father or so I'm told."
"So a man we can trust," Davos said to a nod of Jace's head.
"Which leaves Laws, Coin, and Ships."
"Aye."
"Do you have names you're considering at least?"
"Daven Lannister for Laws," Jace said and Davos nodded. The Lannister lord had proved himself a true and Leal man and as Jace had oft said, you find your true friends on the battlefield.
"What of Edmure Tully?" he asked to a shake of Jace's head.
"I'll allow him to remain as Lord Paramount of the Trident if he lives up to his words and stands down from any fight to come against Sansa. That however is all I'm willing to allow him."
Davos had expected as much. Not only did Jace have a fractious history with the Tully's, but given that to most it would be Jace's sword that took Bran Stark from the world. That in time it would be the same when it came to Sansa Stark. It would be for the best not to have their uncle too close to the king, queen, or their children.
"Coin and Ships?"
"I'd name my wife to the latter if I could get her to accept it," Jace said and were it from any other man, then Davos would name it a jape. From his king, he knew he spoke the truth.
"Does she recommend anyone in her stead?"
"Asha Greyjoy, Monterys Velaryon, Wyman Manderly, aye she names a few."
"Manderly would be a good choice, Jace."
"Aye, but I want him as Master of Coin," Jace said and Davos chuckled once more. Of course, his king would wish a Northman on the Small Council and far better it was Lord Wyman than any other in charge of the Crown's coin. At least he could be trusted not to rob them blind as Littlefinger had done when he served in that role.
"Then it falls to Lord Monterys, Jace. It cannot be Asha Greyjoy."
"Would that I could trust her, Davos. That I knew she'd left old grudges in the past where they belong."
"For why?" he asked curiously.
Jace sighed, took up his mug of water, and drained it down before then pouring himself another. Only then did he answer. An answer that surprised and stunned Davos both in its simplicity and in the merits it held.
"There are few more capable at sea than the Queen of the Iron Islands, Davos. Few other than yourself, some men who serve my lady wife, or the Velaryons. Yet that is only part of it. To name an Iron Born as Mistress of Ships, to see them rise so high, How else could I send a signal to the Realm that I'm different than those who sat the Iron Throne before me? What better way can I keep the Iron Born under control than to name one of their own to such a lofty position? Other than doing so with flame and death.
Davos nodded his head as he listened and found no fault in anything that Jace said. So much so that he barely heard the last of the words his king spoke on the matter.
"In time I may need to bring them Fire and Blood, Davos. Yet, were I able to trust the woman not to use her position to make herself strong enough to attack me, then I'd take the risk and roll the dice."
"The risk is too large," Davos said, both agreeing with Jace and speaking aloud without knowing it too.
"Aye and in time I fear her anger will lead to her people's downfall and my wrath visited upon them."
Jace showed no signs of wishing to do such a thing, which was far less than could be said about what they spoke of next. Davos asked for and was given the answers to the fates of Tyrion Lannister, Samwell Tarly, and even that of Sansa Stark and her new husband.
"I'll take their lives myself, Davos. Far from any eyes but those who wish to bear witness to their deaths. For the debts they owe are to me, the woman their actions led to the death of, and the gods themselves."
"Clean?" he asked warily.
"No, for they deserve it not," Jace said leaving no room for rebuke or even question given how firmly he spoke the words.
They dealt then with the few other matters that couldn't wait. Avoided talk of the war to come and instead concentrated only on the things that needed to be done for the city and to bring the realm to heel. The Vale was much on Jace's mind as too was the North, yet, for now, both seemed to be put on a shelf to be dealt with later.
Hearing that Jace planned to forge a new Iron Throne was a surprise and yet not. As too was the fact that while Drogon had melted the swords which had formed the old one into a mass of molten steel, that mass had not been simply thrown away. Smiths from around the realm were to come and forge new swords from that mass, while others were to be added to it. Jace showed him the design that he and Lady Malora had come up with and Davos chuckled loudly when he saw that it was two thrones to be forged not one. The Queen was to be given equal billing in the kingdom that Jace was to rule over.
"Until later, your grace," Davos said as he rose to his feet.
"You'll join us for dinner?"
"A quiet one or one in public, your grace?"
"Friends and family, Davos, friends and family."
Davos still wore the smile as he walked from the King's Solar, knowing that in Jace's eyes, he was seen as both. As too was Tormund and some others, the king's familiars too on that very short list. Samwell Tarly and even Tyrion Lannister may one day have seen their names added to it as well. Today, however, they were on an even shorter list. A list that would soon be shorter still.
"For I've no doubt before the year is done, there will be none alive who Jacaerys Targaryen names as his enemy or an enemy of his House." Davos was certain that his king would not allow his child to be born into a world where such people breathed still.
Winterfell 307 AC.
The Red Queen.
Her hand touched her stomach. Sansa was certain she felt the life she believed grew inside of her. It had been more than a moon since her moon blood had come. Closer to two if she was right. Three moons since she and Harrold had named each other husband and wife and spent each night abed coupling.
'Sometimes in the day too.' she thought happily and wantonly.
Standing in front of the looking glass, Sansa turned from side to side. There was no difference she could make out. No sign that she may be with child or not. Yet, she believed the gods favored her in this as they did in everything else she had done these past few moons. The weather being mild despite it being winter and the coin having arrived safely from the Iron Bank were signs of this or so she had named them.
Winterfell's treasury was full once more. Plans that she had feared would never come to fruition, were ones she now was much closer to seeing realized. While coin that she'd worried would be wasted on those undeserving of it, would not now need to be spent. The Small Folk's needs and wants were much lesser in her mind than those of her own and that of her reign as queen. Food had been purchased and given out to them, but that was the extent of Sansa's largesse. She'd certainly not be spending coin to repair their hovels and see their dwellings warm for a winter that was lesser than what they'd already survived.
'Besides it costs much to feed and arm an army.'
Other than the fact she believed she was with child, it was that thought and the thoughts of what that army needed to be provisioned for that were most prevalent in Sansa's mind. Word had reached them of what had happened to Gendry Waters and the Stormlands. To Bronn of the Blackwater and the Reach and finally, to Tyrion and Bran. Sansa shed no tears for any of them, not even the one whom she named as brother.
"Why should I when he helped me not when I asked for it."
Now placing both hands on her not-swollen belly, Sansa closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like once it was. She stood and daydreamed about what her son or daughter would look like. Welcoming the image of twins in her head and smiling to herself as she looked over Eddard and Catelyn. Her son the very image of his father while her daughter was Sansa reborn.
The knock on the door took her out of her daydream for now and forced her to rush to find something to cover up her naked form. Sansa waited until she was so covered before bidding whoever had disturbed her to enter the room. That it was Jeyne and she carried a note from Harrold, was all that saved the girl who had once been her truest friend, some withering words. Sansa was only too happy to read her husband's eagerness for her to join him in their morning meal. Happier still that the first blooms of wedded life were still as true as she hoped they would be.
"I'll need help to dress," she said to Jeyne who nodded her head. Sansa not noticing the angered look her former friend gave her when she turned away from her.
So lost was she in thoughts of both the news she longed to share with her husband and her husband himself, that Sansa noticed not the looks she received as she, Jeyne, and her guards walked through the keep. Nor did she see the two Gyrfalcons that roosted on the Great Keep and Great Hall, only one of them looking at her as she walked past windows that looked out onto the inner courtyard.
Upon reaching the Great Hall, Sansa welcomed the fact that men rose to her feet to greet her arrival. As she did the warm look on Harrold's face and the even warmer feel of his lips on her own when she took her seat beside him. Again wishing to share her news, Sansa found herself unable to utter the words. A thought came to her mind that for now, she couldn't shake and so it was a frown rather than a smile that Harrold was now faced with.
"My love?"
"Forgive me, 'Tis nothing, just thoughts of days to come."
"You're certain?" Harrold asked worriedly. Sansa nodded to let him know that she was. For now, she forced away the worried thoughts that had dared rear their ugly heads.
Sansa ate hungrily. Her appetite surprised her and was something she put down to being with child. Another sign that the gods had shown her their favor as she remembered her mother telling her that she'd felt much hunger which each of the children she'd birthed. With their morning meal soon over, Sansa found herself standing on the walkway with her husband as Harrold's men were put through their paces.
"They seem most ready?" she said happily.
"They are and will soon be joined by others."
"They will?" she asked hopefully.
"A raven from Lady Anya," Harrold said holding up a raven's scroll. His next words quietened down the annoyance Sansa felt at not being told of its arrival. "It was waiting for me when I came to break my fast, I wished not to disturb your sleep or your own before speaking to you of it."
Sansa smiled warmly as she read the words on the raven's scroll. Knowing that it had only just arrived and had only been kept from her for a short time was as much a relief as why it had even been kept that long. Her husband had wished her to rise, dress, wash, and eat before then needing to deal with matters that may disturb even one of those things. Looking over the words, Sansa's smile only grew ever larger.
Your grace,
I write to you to inform you that the banners have been called in your name. The Knights of the Vale are rising, my king. All have answered the call and within a moon will gather at the Bloody Gate and await your orders. Bid us march where you wish us to, my king. Join you or strike down your enemies on your behalf. We await your orders eagerly and look most forward to meeting our new queen should that be your wish.
Lady Anya Waynwood,
Faithful Servant of their Graces,
King Harrold Arryn and Queen Sansa Stark.
Seeing her name written beside her husband's, Sansa felt a stirring in her heart. They'd taken to using both names when they sent out ravens. Had agreed that a command came from them both and they were to be served just as equally. Knowing that others had heeded the words her husband had sent to them, proved to her just how true her and Harrold's support truly was.
"I should call the North's banners," Sansa said and Harrold nodded. "Do we march?" she asked, a flicker of concern taking hold in her chest.
"We needs must join up with the Knights of the Vale, Sansa. Join up with your uncle's men."
"You mean to give him one battle?"
"I hope to. A charge from the Knights of the Vale against his own cavalry. Our men then are to charge and deal with any who remain while giving our knights a chance to turn, regroup, and hit them in the rear. Would that the gods were so good to us." Harrold said eagerly.
"They are," Sansa said kissing him. "They will be," she added a moment later. "For how could they support a bastard over us." she smiled.
There was a moment when she almost told her husband what she believed. A small brief window when she was ready to tell Harrold that she'd been blessed by the gods with their babe, showing further just how truly the gods favored them both. Why she did not do so, she knew not at the time. Not until later when she called for the Maester to come and examine her and confirm her good news, did she even begin to understand her reasoning for not simply shouting it out loudly for all to hear.
It was the knowledge of what Harrold would do with that information that stayed her hand. The fear of what the Maester may speak of once he'd found out she was with child, stopped her from asking Wolkan any question she wished an answer to. Instead, Sansa kept her good news to herself for now and even thanked the gods for not making her show so early. She'd wait until Jon Snow and those who followed him were in the ground and then and only then would she name herself as being with child. Sansa later headed to the Sept and lit candles to each of the gods to ask them to continue showing her their blessings and to make those deaths come sooner rather than later.
The ravens flew that very night. Words to each of their Bannermen to make ready and join them on the march south. To seek vengeance and justice for a brother that she sought neither for. A call to arms against a brother that she'd never truly seen as one. A Kinslayer twice over as she named him in the ravens that had been sent. Jon Snow proving himself to be all her mother had warned her about, or so she had said. Sansa smiled at the cleverness of her words and how she used the North against itself to get what she wanted.
My Lords of the North,
I bid you to raise your arms and join with me and my husband as we march South. A call to arms I make with a heavy heart and yet one that my very blood demands of me. A war I wish had never needed to be fought against a man I named a brother of the heart even though he was not a brother by blood. I call you not to seek glory or renown. Nor to place a crown upon my head. I call you because once again Jon Snow has shown himself for who he truly is. A Kinslayer who cares not for the blood he sheds, nor what the gods feel about the shedding of that blood.
Mine own brother, Brandon, lies dead not at the hand of another, but at the hands of a man who he'd seen fit to sentence to the Wall rather than to lose his head. A mistake which has cost him greatly, my lords. I call you in the name of justice, of honor, of the very gods themselves. Join me and the allies my husband brings to bear. My uncle brings to bear. Join me and let the realm know once and for all, that the slaying of a Stark is not a crime that goes unforgiving or unavenged.
Sansa Stark,
Queen in the North.
Laying sated in her bed, her husband sleeping beside her after they'd exhausted themselves with each other once again, Sansa wore a true smile on her face. Her hand touched her stomach and she was certain now that it was true. She was with child and she'd soon see Jon Snow dead. The march she and Harrold would undertake was one that would take her back to King's Landing. While the crown she'd soon wear on her head was one that she'd been owed for many years. A crown she was born to wear and one that she'd pass on to her children.
"You'll be a prince and princess of the Seven Kingdoms, my loves," she whispered before laying down and wrapping her arms around Harrold's chest and then drifting to sleep. A gyrfalcon resting on the wall outside the window of her chambers as she did so.
King's Landing 307 AC.
The Craven Maester.
For days he'd lain and waited. His only visitors were the guards who brought him his food and Gilly, young Sam, and their babe only once. Sam's wailing had been louder than both babes as he begged and pleaded with Gilly to speak to Jon on his behalf. Ignoring her words that she'd tried and been given short shrift, Sam had instead bid her to seek out Ser Davos, Tormund, and especially the queen.
He'd asked her to speak about his sister, mother, about how House Tarly would not take kindly to his death. That by killing him they'd create a rift in the Reach that they needed not to. Sam had even asked Gilly to tell them that he'd take the Black once more, return to the Citadel, or travel to the Lands Beyond the Wall. Seven hells, he'd told her to tell them that he'd go to Essos, as long as they allowed him to leave with his life. Yet, he'd received no word as to whether or not his pleas had even been listened to, let alone accepted.
As for the guards who watched him, Sam knew he'd find no favor with them. No bribe would be accepted or even entertained. Any talk of them letting him escape would be ignored. Though Sam had tried it all and had received some bruises for his persistence. The Free Folk were loyal to Jon above all others and any who'd earned his former friend's ire had earned theirs too. Given that he'd earned more than Jon's ire, he was lucky that bruises had been all his begging had been answered with.
'Not that I feel lucky' he thought to himself.
Hearing some movement outside his cell, Sam hoped it was his meal arriving. Shocked instead to find it was some Free Folk guards bearing clean clothing and to his stunned silence, a bath. For the next hour or so, water was brought and he was even given soap with which to wash himself. Sam welcomed the warmth and the feeling of clean clothing when he put them on. So wrapped up in just being able to bathe, and be clean, and upon hearing he was to be given a meal in a proper room, Sam thought not of why he was been treated so differently.
It was only upon seeing Tormund come once he'd eaten that Sam found himself questioning his newfound favor. The looks that Tormund gave him followed by the words he spoke once he'd done so, soon making Sam glad he'd already eaten. For had he heard them before he'd done so, he may not have been able to. As it was, he was lucky enough to keep down that which he'd already devoured hungrily.
"Had you been true to him, then you'd not know the pain you'll feel this day." Tormund snarled. "Know I pity you not for what you're about to endure and pray your suffering continues long after you've breathed your last."
"I…Please….."
"Other than the man who'll soon share your fate, few have deserved it more," Tormund said before leaving Sam alone.
He moved to the table where he'd eaten his meal, only to find the knife and fork had long been taken away. The brief thought of taking his own life so it would be less painful than whatever Jon had planned for him, was now not even a possibility. Whether or not Sam would have had the guts to go through with it, a question that would never find an answer.
Gilly, Young Sam, and the Babe were brought to say their goodbyes and Sam wailed and blubbered as he asked her if she had done as he'd asked. None of her words had been listened to by Tormund or Davos and she'd not been allowed within a few feet of the queen. As for Jon, when she had spoken to him, he'd not only refused her request but had told her that her own path now took her to Hardhome. A warning left in her ear about what would happen to her and her sons should word ever be uttered that named Sam's fate as unjust.
Sam needed to be dragged off them when the time came for Gilly and the children to leave. His hope that he'd not be harmed in front of them was as forlorn as the hope he'd held that her words would change his fate. Or that any of his own would stay Jon's hand when his time in this world had finally come to an end. A time that he wasn't even given a few moments to prepare for.
Again he needed to be dragged away by the guards. This time from the room and not from a crying Gilly, Young Sam, and his son. Sam grasped at anything he could to stop them from taking him to where he knew Jon awaited. His cries rang out loudly and went unanswered by one and all as in the end a slap to his head loosened his fingers. The pain of that was soon overtaken by the pain of his knees as they dragged along the cobbled stone of the small courtyard he was taken to.
"JON! JON PLEASE!" Sam screamed. "PLEASE JON! DON'T DO THIS I BEG YOU!"
As fearful as he was for what was about to come, Sam was even more so by the look in Jon's eyes as he glared back at him. Contempt, disgust, and disdain were bad enough and looks he'd known for much of his life. To see hatred in Jon Snow's face and to see that hatred directed at him was to know what true fear truly was. Sam was under no illusion that any who saw that look was long for this world.
"Tie him to the stake," Jon ordered as Sam finally lost the battle with his bodily functions. Snot fell from his nose as he wet himself. The dark stain of his piss coloring the new clothing he'd been given to wear.
Had he been able to look around the small courtyard, he'd have noticed it was far less so than it first seemed. Instead, it was a garden of sorts, and beneath the stake he was tied to, the ground had been disturbed. If he was in any fit state to concentrate on anything but his own impending doom, then Sam would have seen just who it was who was to bear witness to his death. A Golden Eagle, Red Dragon, and White Wolf were all given pride of place. While Tormund, Val, The Free Folk, and few others stood and watched as Jon moved forward. Knives and hooks in his hand rather than either of his two Valyrian Steel swords, although Dark Sister leaned against a pillar nearby.
"I named you a friend once. Thought you my truest and Lealest companion. Dishonoring the man who truly was so by doing so." Jon looked at Tormund and nodded. "You knew how much I wished to know the truth of my mother. How long I had waited to know such a thing. Yet, rather than come to me as soon as I arrived in Winterfell. Rather than doing what a true friend would do and seek me out as quickly as you could, you waited." Jon snarled. "I've long had time to realize why."
"It was Bran!" Sam shouted. "He told me to wait! Please, Jon, you must believe me."
"NO!" Jon shouted as Sam felt a cut of the knife in his shoulder, the pain causing him to scream out. "My days of believing liars are over and Jon Snow is long since dead. As soon so shall you be."
Each cut was slow and meticulous. Sam wondered why he wasn't already dead before the last of them was done. The answer for that was soon to be made clear to him as Jon finished with the knives and readied to use the hooks now instead.
"You came to me when you did to force me against her. To drive me from her. Both you and the thing I named a brother once, sought to use my truth for your own ends. Ends I'm shamed to say I was a party to." Jon said as he pointed to where he'd cut Sam. "Her name will be forever etched not just in your final moments, Sam, but now in your body too. You'll speak it and beg her forgiveness before I take your pain away."
"Daenerys, Daenerys, please Jon, I beg you, no more, Daenerys, Daenerys…" he screamed the name over and over. Sam realized now that Jon had literally carved it on as much of his body as he could.
His shoulders, back, stomach, chest, and even his legs had been marked with the name of the Dragonqueen. All of them were carved in blood and yet Jon was far from done with him as of yet.
Sam felt the hook being dug into his skin. One over his heart. Another above his groin and the last deep into his stomach. He looked on as thin but strong chains were attached and then as the eagle, dragon, and wolf all moved to where Jon stood. His mind was uncomprehending as Jon secured the chains to collars around each of the three beasts' necks before standing and raising his hand.
"They too want to play their part in the justice we seek here today, Sam," Jon said before dropping his hand.
Ghost moved first, followed by Syrax and then Aegerax as Sam screamed when their movements tightened and then forced the hooks to tear loose from his body. Parts of him either flying away or being dragged along the ground. Not a single one of the Free Folk turned their eyes away from the sight of his manhood leaving a blood trail behind the white wolf. Some laughter even rang out when Aegerax soon landed close to it to bathe it in flames.
While Sam bled and then passed out, Jace removed the collars from the Golden Eagle, Red Dragon, and White Wolf. He praised all three of them before picking up Dark Sister and taking a large bucket of water which he poured over Sam's head. Beneath the stake, the ground was soaked in Sam's blood and Jace knew full well that the Weirwood seed was drinking it down. A needed procedure to ensure it grew strong and thrived in lands where it had not done so for many a year. The second such tree that he'd see grew in the Red Keep before the week was done.
"It's time to send you to your gods, Sam. If you believe in any." Jon said and Sam almost welcomed that his time was at an end. Almost.
"Please, Jacaerys…." Sam stuttered. Willing to accept even being scarred, mutilated, and unmanned if it bought him another day in the world. Going so far as to name Jon by his true name to try and buy himself another moment, hour, day, week, or moon of life.
A simple look into the dark grey eyes of the man who stood in front of him should have been enough to tell him that no more of his life was for sale. Nothing he could say or do would change his fate and as Sam begged and pleaded, Dark Sister began to swing in the air. Its thin blade aimed directly at Sam's neck and swung with enough force to take not just his head from his shoulders, but to cut through the stake he was tied to, as well.
"For Daenerys," Jace said as he took Sam's head from his shoulders.
That night as Sam's body was chopped into seven pieces and the flesh was boiled from them all, his head was placed atop a stake for all to see. Three days later as Gilly and her children were placed aboard a ship that was to sail to Hardhome, seven men were sent aboard seven other ships with but one task to do. To bury Samwell Tarly's body in each of the seven kingdoms. His graves were to remain unmarked and with the only caveat given to those who bore the body parts, to be unremarkable.
"Bury him far from any beauty or any life other than that which is wild. Bury him deep and leave no marking on his gravesite, for he deserves none. Do this and earn your king's favor and goodwill." Jace said to each of the seven men that he tasked with removing all traces of Samwell Tarly from his sight. His head, only remaining so others could bear witness to his fate.
King's Landing 307 AC.
The Lady in the Tower.
Malora had suggested to Jace that he made the executions of Tyrion Lannister and Samwell Tarly's private affairs. All but Daven Lannister were somewhat kept from bearing witness to the executions themselves. The Bearded Lion had asked for and at her behest, been given permission to attend the Imp's execution. Daven informed them that he was doing so at the express request of Lady Genna Lannister, Tyrion's aunt.
Even the Kingsguard had been asked not to attend and so it had fallen to the Free Folk and those closest to Jace to see the gruesome end of Samwell Tarly. Not a single man of them felt any sympathy for the Craven Maester nor named what Jace did as anything other than good or true. She doubted any of them would feel any differently when Tyrion's own time in this world was at an end.
With the matters of the executions all but sorted, it led them to matters first of the city of King's Landing and then of the realm itself. Malora joined Jace in what would be the sight of the private Godswood so they could speak on all she learned. Some of which she knew would make him happier than others would. Arriving before the king, Malora knelt and looked at the small sapling that had already begun to sprout. Not more than two days had passed since Samwell Tarly met his end and already the Weirwood had begun to grow. She was doing so when the footsteps rang out behind her, Ser Asher accompanying Jace and standing to one side so they could speak privately. Malora offered the knight some welcome words before she turned to the king.
"The ship has left White Harbor, Ser Asher. Your love and yourself are soon to be reunited." Malora said earning her a full smile from the younger man.
"I count the days, my lady."
"As well you should, Ser Asher." Jace winked, making Malora chuckle to see him in such a good mood.
His own marriage had borne fruit even more quickly than Malora had dared to hope for. A love blossomed between Jace and his young queen as surely as the Weirwood did beneath her feet. Both the news of the queen being with child and Sansa Stark's fool attempt to take Desmera and the babe from this world helped in that regard. Although, Malora now believed that even without it, Jace and Desmera would have eventually found there was love between them.
"Lady Whitehill is not alone on the ship, my king."
"She's not?"
"Meera Reed and Wylla Manderly join her both coming with word from their fathers that neither man wishes to be heard by any but yourself."
"Word you already know the truth of no doubt," Jace smirked.
Malora simply nodded and told her king what had occurred in the North amongst those he would name as allies. Those words turned that smirk into a smile while the words she then spoke on his enemies, very much wiped that smile from Jace's face. The plans that Sansa Stark, Harrold Hardyng, and the Vale had for the battles to come were ones that even Jace himself hadn't predicted. Not that it took her king too long to counter those plans.
"You're certain of Lord Tully's fealty?" Jace asked and Malora nodded. "Then we'll need him to play a mummer as too will the Riverlords."
"And the men of the North?" she asked curiously.
"Aye, them too." Jace sighed.
Placing her hand on his shoulder, Malora bid her king to unburden himself of his worries. Happy to find they were thoughts of his babe and fears of missing the birth. Even happier to be able to offer him the comfort that he would not have to lest there was some change in Harrold Hardyng and Sansa Stark's plans.
"Should they march as truly as I expect. If the North comes to their side as fully as they hope for. Then this war will be done in time for you to be by your wife's side long before your babe is born." Malora refused to name the babe as the boy she knew it would be, even given the dreams that both Jace and to her surprise, Desmera, had both had of their future children.
'Best they find out for themselves and know the joy of seeing their son born without the foreknowledge that it is to be so'
"Then we have much work to do. Ravens to be sent and a mummery to perform."
They spent the next few days organizing both the army that would march to meet Sansa's and Harrold Harydng's own. The garrison that they'd leave behind in King's Landing to protect the Queen and the city itself. Organizing that food shipments were split evenly between the army and the city. As well as rewarding those who'd served Jacaerys well now and who would do so in the future.
Aurane Velaryon was once again named Lord Paramount of the Stormlands while his nephew was named Master of Ships. Daven Lannister was surprised and delighted to be named Master of Laws while she happily accepted her role as Mistress of Whisperers. Marwyn the Mage was named Grand Maester and there were some who liked it not that he was. Her own words on the man and what he'd then spoken to the king regarding his Grand Uncle, along with how he looked at Syrax, Ghost, and Aegerax most of all was more than enough for Jace to care not what anyone else thought. As too was the moment the White Wolf licked the former Archmaester's hand.
Jace surprised even her when he named Duram Bar Emmon as Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks. The young lord had earned some glory by killing a Khal and yet none had expected the king to honor him so. Each of the commanders of the Company of the Rose was named Lord of a still-to-be-built keep in the newly returned Brandon's and New Gifts. Torrhen Snow was named Lord of Queenscrown and Warden of the Gift. The Lord Commander was only answerable to the King and Queen or Warden of the North, whomever Jace named that to be.
There were others who were knighted by the king's own hand. The two Free Folk brothers who saved the queen's life among them. Desmera's own guard were named as head of the Household guard and roundly applauded by the king and all those present in the Throne Room for their valor and service in the protection of the queen. Jace left none in any doubt just how valued his wife's safety was to him. Lord Lyonel Frey was named as Warden of the West and while Edmure Tully was confirmed in writing as Lord Paramount of the Trident, he was not named so publicly. The mummery they wished to perform not allowing them to do so.
Yet for all the work that Jace and Desmera got through in those first few days and weeks, Malora knew full well that certain things were most pressing in the king's mind. His wife and babe's safety. The battle against the girl he'd named a sister once. Both were there always every time she looked Jace's way. The death of Tyrion Lannister, however, more than anything else was where Jace's mind would turn. That was the most pressing of his concerns right up until the day it no longer was.
"May the Old Gods grant my king the peace he deserves," Malora said as she watched Jace walk to the cells ready to take the life of a man who deserved the death that awaited him.
King's Landing 307 AC.
Martine Waters.
A new king and queen filled her with little hope. Things had changed not for her with any of the others she served, so why should this be any different? At least those were her thoughts when the city fell to the White Dragon and Azure Lady as she'd heard some refer to them. Not even the fact that the city had fallen without much suffering to those who named it home had truly made her feel differently.
Six and fifty years Martine had named King's Landing home. Almost forty of them had been spent working in the Red Keep and she'd known few of them that she'd named as serving a good King or Queen. The Mad King had never looked her way, thanks be to the Seven. Yet he'd never cared enough to see if she or hers had enough to eat or live on. Queen Rhaella had her own troubles being wed to such a man and so Martine blamed her not. While the Stag only ever looked a servant's way if he wished to bed her.
The less said about the Crazed Lioness the better and as for the Dragonqueen. It was only by the grace of the Mother that she and her dragon hadn't taken Martine and her children from this world.
"Seven knows they took enough others from it."
The Broken King cared not about things he cared not about, which was much and everything as far as Martine could see. While his Hand was not a man that she wished to be anywhere close to. A Kinslayer and a Demon Monkey were among the best names she would name Tyrion Lannister. A man who cared only for wine or whores was all she ever remembered him as the last time he served as Hand, she had doubted it would be any different this time and had been proved right.
The fact that their new Hand was a man born in Flea Bottom should have given her some hope. As too should be the way the king and queen looked at each other. Yet in truth, not even seeing how the new king seemed to care about his wife or how he was surrounded by men whom some named as savage, was enough to fill Martine with any hope that things would be different under the new regime. The difference however turned out to be quite stark indeed and was first reflected in their pay.
"Is this right?"
"Some mistake?"
"Are we being dismissed?"
The answers to those questions came from the Hand himself. Lord Davos told them that they were now to be paid a fairer wage for the work they did. That unless any wished it, they were not to be released from the king and queen's service and that should they have any requests, they should be made to him or one of the men who worked for him.
Hope had then begun to grow within her. A brief glimmer of it at first that soon began to turn into a raging inferno. Food shipments arrived from the Reach and were delivered to those in the city who deserved it. Men who worked for the Gold Cloaks and who had stolen, accepted bribes, or used their position to force people to do their will, all now found themselves out of a job and no longer welcome in the city. The offer to leave and leave now being one that was given to them and the warning of what would happen if they should not, one they took heed of.
Men who'd sought to join the Gold Cloaks but had been turned down had soon heard a knock on their door. The offer of good-paying work was extended to them and the city could only benefit from having good and true men serve in the stead of men who were very much not. Some men were offered roles within the Red Keep itself. Asked to try out for positions among the guards or other roles that were made available. Women were hired for their skills and willingness to work rather than because they were fair or liable to raise their skirts should they be asked to.
The new queen had many plans and while most would take time to be realized, just the thought of some of them was enough to further grow that flame within Martine's chest. Education for those who wished to avail of it. Healers for those who needed it and yet had no coin to pay. Regular food and supplies were delivered to the orphanages so the children who lived there knew hunger no more. All of it was almost too good to believe and yet it was what it seemed the new king and queen had sought to do. Those first few weeks had changed their lives so much, that Martine couldn't even begin to imagine what moons, years, or even decades of Jacaerys Targaryen and Desmera Redwyne on the throne would bring. A sight in the new private garden that she bore witness to, at least gave her some idea, however.
"It's grown so much." the queen said to the king as they sat together on the ground before the sapling, Martine watching from the window that overlooked the garden.
"Aye, almost large enough to pray at."
"And is there a prayer my husband wishes the Old Gods to hear?" the queen sounded amused to Martine's ears.
"Only that this is the life we all know." the king answered.
"You wish there to be peace?"
"I wish them to know only peace." the king replied, Jacaerys touching his wife's belly before then kissing her softly.
"Then go make war, my love, and upon your return, let peace be all we know."
That night Martine made her way to the Sept and lit a candle to the Mother and the Father, one to the Stranger too. She prayed to the Father to make this be the truth of the world she now lived in. To the Mother to grant the King and Queen and the realm the peace they all deserved. Finally, she prayed to the Stranger, and to him, she spoke but simple words.
"Keep your hands far from my king, queen, or their babe, I beg you."
Daved Knutt.
He carried the sack in his hands. Fruit, vegetables, meat, and good clean cloth. Food for his family and material for his wife to make clothing out of. All were bought with coin he'd earned from his job with the Gold Cloaks. His second week of work with them had actually left him with some coin to spare unlike his first. The coin he'd earned then had been spent almost as quickly as he earned it, so little coin had he held in his hands before that point that it had needed to be.
Debts had been paid. Rent was finally offered and welcomed. A little food was then put on their table. Now, it was much more and he still had coin to spare. The life he'd sought all those years earlier, was finally one he was beginning to know. A life he'd given up on until he'd received a knock on his door but a few weeks earlier. The sight of two men in Gold Cloaks, one that had at first struck fear in his heart, only to later prove to be a gift from the gods themselves.
"No, these were gifts from the new king and queen." Daved muttered.
He like others had expected little from Jacaerys Targaryen and Desmera Redwyne. Why would they prove to be any different than others after all? None who ruled had ever cared for him and his and so Daved had little hope that the new king or queen would be the ones to change how King's Landing had always been run.
What little faith he'd had in people had been lost when he'd gone and sought a job with the Gold Cloaks. Janos Slynt had been sent to the Wall and the Imp had placed a new man in charge. Daved foolishly believed that would change things only to find it very much did not. His request had been turned down almost the moment he'd made it and life had gone on as always. He struggled to find enough coin to feed, house, and clothe himself, his wife, and his children.
Things had gotten worse than that over the next few years. What little they had found to survive on had disappeared as war ravaged the realm. Daved went hungry for days on end just so his wife and children could have something in their bellies. Not even the war ending and the arrival of the Golden Rose had changed much if truth be told. All their prayers had eventually fallen to the Dragonqueen to see realized. Yet it was naught but fire and blood that Daenerys Targaryen had answered those prayers with.
"All of them are the same and not a one of them cares whether we live or die."
They were the words he'd uttered to his youngest daughter when they'd managed to find a new home to live in after the Black Dragon had burned down their old one. So he'd hoped for little and expected less when the time came for yet another king to take the throne. Not even the fact that this one was the one who'd truly deserved it had been enough to change that fact. For what cared Daved that Jacaerys Targaryen was the rightful king, he'd not known a good one as of yet, so why would this one be any different?
Even hearing the tale of the new king stopping the Dragonqueen's men from killing men who surrendered, endeared him not to Daved. Yet when others spoke poorly of the king killing the Dragonqueen and named him Kinslayer, for some reason Daved spoke up. Given what the Dragonqueen had done, she deserved to be killed in Daved's mind. What care he who did the deed as long as the deed was done?
"A knock on the door." he chuckled as he reached the street where he lived.
Such a simple thing and yet it was enough to earn the king and queen his favor, for what such a thing was worth to them. Opening his door, entering, and seeing the healthier look on his children's faces. With the excited looks they gave the sack he carried and the warm kiss his wife greeted him with, Daved felt they deserved his goodwill at least.
After eating a meal that filled all their bellies, Daved put his children to bed and spoke softly to his youngest daughter. Mara wished to hear had he seen the White Wolf today. Had he caught sight of the Golden Eagle as he went about his duties. None of which he'd seen, though he would not lie and say he didn't enjoy seeing how her eyes widened when he told her that he did see the Red Dragon as it flew overhead.
"You did."
"I did."
"And the White Dragon?" Mara asked softly.
"Watches over us all," he said kissing before kissing her cheek.
King's Landing 307 AC.
The Azure Lady.
Her husband was attentive. Jace spent whatever time with her that he or she could carve out during the day away from their duties. Both of them would seek the other out to share a meal, a stolen moment, or at times even more than that. When he'd asked her if she'd take a place on the Small Council, Desmera had been stunned and had felt a little prideful too. Yet in the end, she knew she could not serve as Mistress of Ships.
It wasn't that she wasn't qualified for the role and if anything it was that as much as being Jace's wife that had seen it offered to her. Desmera turned it down because the role of Queen required her full attention. As would the role of mother when the time came for her and Jace's babe to be birthed. An extra reason for her husband's attentiveness too or so Desmera believed.
Still, she'd not lie and say she much enjoyed those stolen moments that she and Jace shared. Nor that she welcomed the fact that during them, Jace spoke to her about things that were truly on his mind or causing him concern. None more so than when he spoke about the executions of Samwell Tarly and Tyrion Lannister and why he wished her not to attend either.
"They will not be clean nor will their ends be quick," Jace said as they lay together on the couch in their chambers.
"Why?"
"I could say because they deserve it not. That their actions have wrought this fate upon them. Or that every single part of me demands it to be so. I could say it is for Dany, that it is the least she deserves and while I'll make them remember her before they breathe their last, it would be a lie from me to name it so."
"Jace…"
"They tried to end my House, Desmera. Almost succeeded where so many others including mine own family have failed. In telling me my truth when he did, Sam did so with that goal in mind. Oh, I've no doubt he would say that he wished me to be king, but I know the truth of Samwell Tarly now and all he ever wished for was his own comfort. As for Tyrion, he whispered the words in my ear and knew which ones to use. Aye, I wielded the knife, but had it not been for the words he spoke….." Jace hesitated and took a breath. "Then by convincing them to send me to the Wall, he sought to finish what his father tried to do four and twenty years ago."
Desmera hadn't truly agreed with her husband's reasoning. Yet she'd allowed him to make the decision without her input and believed that on this, Jace knew best. She'd then waited until the night after Samwell Tarly had met his end and asked her husband if it had felt just and right to end him how he had. Jace told her that it had and he felt no guilt, shame, or remorse nor felt any pleasure in what he'd done. He simply felt relieved knowing that one more man he named an enemy now breathed no more.
When not in her husband's arms or spending a stolen moment with Jace, Desmera began to do the work of a ruling queen. Jace had told her that he wished for her to not only offer up suggestions or advice when she felt it needed but to take on projects of her own. To look out upon the city and the realm, see what needed to be done, and make the changes that would make people's lives better. It was something that Desmera found she relished and was actually most capable of.
First seeing that the servants and guards of the Red Keep were paid a fair wage. Then she arranged for food shipments to be brought from the Reach and delivered to those who needed them most. She hired healers and educated men and women, all with the task of making the Small Folk's lives easier. Though as with Jace, it was through new jobs and opportunities to earn coin that would initially make that so. Her husband and the new Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, Lord Bar Emmon, already offered good and true men the chance to serve and earn coin.
Desmera did the same with positions in the Red Keep and with the help of Davos, other areas where the city needed workers. In less than a moon, the changes were already bearing fruit which left her excited for the weeks, moons, and years to come. Jace and her reign would not be like those that came before it, or so both she and her husband promised each other before they turned in most nights.
"A better realm not just for us, but for our children," Desmera said as Jace softly stroked her belly.
"A world fit for them and fair for those who live in it. I can see no nobler goal." Jace kissed her cheek as Desmera nodded.
At times, Desmera would find herself sitting alone and picturing the babe that grew inside of her. Sitting by the window that overlooked the sea, she'd look out and imagine joining Jace atop Aegerax as she held their babe in her arms. A promise to one day fly together that her husband had made her and one she had no doubt he'd keep.
She'd picture a girl who looked like her or a boy who looked like her husband. At other times it was a child with the silver hair that the Targaryens were famed for that would fill Desmera's thoughts and dreams. Her prayers to the Mother as she lit a candle in the Sept would be simply for the babe to be healthy and born into a world of peace. Prayers that she knew would take at least one more war to see realized. A war that drew ever closer as did the death of Tyrion Lannister.
"Why let him live so long?" she asked her husband as they sat on the ground and looked at the far too large sapling. The Weirwood had been planted a few weeks earlier on the spot where Samwell Tarly met his end.
"I want him to think about it. To worry if today is to be today. To know no peace other than that of death's embrace."
"Why?"
"Because he sentenced me to a life such as that. He. Those I named my sisters and brother. All of them sentenced me to spend my life in a place where I'd met my death." Jace said calmly. His anger was only clear in his posture or in the flames behind those dark grey eyes she loved so much.
Those first few weeks of their rule may well have been as close to bliss as Desmera had ever known. Meals with friends and those that her husband named as close to family as he could. Time spent alone with her husband either lying together, being held in Jace's arms, speaking of the realm and what needed to be done, or speaking on their babe and what names they'd settle on if it were a boy or a girl. Desmera was the one who brought up how those names needed to be Targaryen in nature long before her husband did. Jace's true smile was proof enough of just how much he welcomed her doing so.
When she began sitting on the chairs that served for now as their thrones, Desmera felt no worry or hesitation in doing so. Nor when she sat them alone without her husband and it fell to her to hold the petitions they held daily. However, when it became clear that she was sitting on the throne more days than Jace was, she knew it was almost time. The war she hoped to be the last one that they ever knew, was soon to be upon them and her husband was readying her to rule in his stead.
Had someone suggested this to her but a few moons earlier, Desmera would have laughed in their faces. If she'd been forced to consider sitting on the throne as a ruling queen, the mere thought of it would have sent her running away in panic. To know that the man she loved with all her heart was soon to lead an army to war would have been enough to still that heart and steal her breath away. It would have sent her to her mother or father for them to offer her comfort and to whisper the words that all would be well in her ear. Now, she felt none of that.
"I am Jace's queen and I am ready to do what I must," Desmera said as she rose and found the small note on the pillow beside her. Simple words that spoke not of what Jace was doing but instead of how he felt about her.
My love,
It falls to you to sit the throne once more today, for I have a task that I've put off for long enough.
Know that I am there with you and our babe in my heart even if I cannot be in person.
Love,
Jace.
Desmera smiled as she kissed the note. It had come far more quickly than she feared it may. Jace's heart and her own were joined as truly as she ever dared wish they one day would. A man to love and who loved her back and a babe to name her own.
"Simple dreams but mine own," Desmera said as she readied herself for the day ahead.
King's Landing 307 AC.
Tyrion.
He wondered if they'd been putting something in the food. Had he been given wine, he'd have pondered that it was that with which they were poisoning him. Tyrion hadn't drunk a single drop of wine since the day the Red Keep fell, however. While in truth he'd never felt as healthy and alert as he now did. Sobriety brought him a clarity of thought that he had lacked much these past few years.
"Ever since I killed my father if truth be told," he whispered hoarsely.
There had been a time when he believed himself to be the cleverest man in the Seven Kingdoms. The Demon Monkey. Imp. Dwarf of Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister's misbegotten son. Tyrion had truly thought himself to be the master of the game that all men played. He was the only one of them all left standing, after all. Varys, Littlefinger, his father, Doran Martell, and the Queen of Thrones had all long since fallen to the worms. He and only he had made it to the game's end, or so he'd told himself.
"Only to be beaten by a bastard who played the game not until he did." Tyrion croaked bitterly.
The cell he was kept in was comfortable enough. Tyrion had been surprised at that. He'd expected to know only the Black Cells and yet his own was light and airy and even had a window. Not that Tyrion could reach it to look out, mind. As for his food, it was pleasant enough. Nothing special or fancy and washed down with only water, but it filled his belly and so what if he had to use his fingers and was given only loose meat. it wasn't as if he could fight his way out had he a knife or a bone of some sort.
'Jaime I'm not.'
Not that his brother had managed to escape his own captivity. Jaime had been held for longer and Tyrion would wager that his brother had been by poorer and less attentive guards than those who guarded him. Jacaerys had put men he trusted above all others to watch over him and Tyrion almost chuckled at that. He had no coin to bribe them with, nor positions to offer them and no words of his would sway the Free Folk to his side even if he did. Jacaerys could have left his cell door unguarded and other than his cousin coming to take his life, Tyrion doubted that anyone else would have even come to the door.
As it was, it was only Jacaerys himself who visited regularly. The newly crowned king of the Seven Kingdoms, stopped by each day and spoke but two words when he did so. Words that Tyrion had come to loathe as much as he did the man who uttered them.
"Not Today'" Jacaerys said as he again walked away.
Daven when he finally came, simply looked in through the bars on the cell door and spat in Tyrion's direction. Had he a better aim then he'd have hit Tyrion so far did the spit travel. Something that his cousin rectified but a moment later and Tyrion had sat and wiped it not. Smiling and laughing like a loon instead and only cleaning himself when Daven walked away. His cousins' words resounded in Tyrion's head as he did so.
"You'll not be mourned nor missed and your body will find no resting place at Casterly Rock. Cursed is the Kinslayer, Imp, and your end will prove that to be so."
Alone in his cell, Tyrion found himself contemplating his mistakes of which there were many. He wondered had he not killed his father, what life he'd have known.
Would Jaime have stood up for him where he had not before?
Or would Cersei have finally finished the job she started during the Battle of Blackwater Bay, and saw him dead?
Had he been alive and by his family's side when Daenerys arrived, would he and they, have known naught but Fire and Blood?
If he had been as smart and clever as he believed himself to be would the Sand Snakes, Ellaria Sand, and Olenna Tyrell have lived to see a good queen crowned?
Those thoughts were but fleeting and in the end, they were all outshone by but one. A thought he'd had more and more since the news had come of Jon Snow abandoning the Wall. One that was the hardest of all for Tyrion to shake.
"Had I named him king, would I now be serving by his side?"
Hearing the noise outside the door, Tyrion felt himself go limp. The footsteps were much heavier than those who brought him his meals. Not to mention the fact that he'd only eaten an hour or so ago and the next meal was not set to be brought to him until night fell. Steadying himself as much as he could, Tyrion tried to put on a brave face and failed miserably. He tried to be stoic and instead began to weep. Knowing full well that today would not be a day when Jacaerys Targaryen spoke those two words he'd now beg the gods to hear.
He was practically carried from the cell. His legs failing him and it was only by the grace of the gods that his bowels didn't join them. Tyrion wept like a babe as he realized that even the pitiful life of a prisoner was better than the alternative. Death was final. The end. No more prospects or thoughts. Dreams or nightmares. All your regrets, wishes, or the answers you may have sought to questions you still had. They were all ones that would end the moment you breathed your last and in what he knew were to be his final moments, Tyrion had many.
'Where do whores go?'
'Was it drink or simply my mind failing me?'
'Is this the life a cursed man knows?'
Again there was but one overriding thought that took hold in Tyrion's mind. One final piece of clarity and a question that would soon be answered. A question that as he thought more on it, he'd asked himself more than any during his time in the cells.
"Will it be clean?" Tyrion shuddered.
To his surprise, he was taken to the Godswood of the Red Keep and not to the steps of what had once been the Great Sept. His death was not to be witnessed by the entirety of King's Landing and while that should comfort him, it very much did not. For even a fool would now know that he'd not meet his end by the headsman's ax or sword. Jacaerys had a much crueler end in mind for him or so it would seem.
Tyrion could barely make out who it was who was there. He saw some of the Free Folk, and he believed his cousin too. The White Wolf, Red Dragon, and Golden Eagle he hoped were simply to bear witness and not to play their parts. As for the man dressed almost entirely in black, Tyrion had no doubt that it would be Jacaerys himself who took him from this world. Dorne may have been where Jacaerys had been born, but he was and would always be a man of the North.
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. My father believed that as did his father afore him." Jon Snow said as they sat around the fire.
Tyrion felt even more tears fall at the memory of a conversation with a man he'd considered a friend.
"Words?" Jacaerys asked as Tyrion was bound.
"….."
There were none he could say to change his fate and any witty ones he had were lost in the dryness of his mouth. His tongue felt as if it was thrice the size it normally was as again his legs gave way.
"I'll not list this man's crimes, of which there are many. Nor will I speak more than this. Though some of you knew her not, Daenerys Targaryen was once a good woman. A woman whose heart was larger than almost anyone I've ever known. In Essos she freed slaves from those who sought to own them. Upon coming to Westeros, she sought only the throne that was stolen from her family. From our family." Jace paused. "Then she put that all to one side to travel North and fight in a war not of her choosing."
There was silence as Jacaerys spoke. Tyrion would have named his words and tone as kingly, had his mind not deserted him once again and left him unable to give voice to his thoughts.
"Aye, she lost herself at the end, but she was helped to do so. By none more than the thing you see in front of you. For not only did his words cost Daenerys her allies, in the end, they cost her, her life, too."
Feeling himself be grabbed, Tyrion readied for the pain to come, and yet for now it was more words spoken instead.
"In the Name of her grace, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, and in mine own Name, King Jacaerys Targaryen, I hereby sentence you to death, and may the gods have mercy on your soul. Valar Morghulis, Tyrion Lannister."
The kick he felt in his back, took him by surprise. It was swiftly followed by another and before he knew it, Tyrion was running through the Godswood. Small as it was, to someone of his size it may as well have been the one in Winterfell or even Harrenhal. An acre of trees and flowers that felt never-ending as Tyrion ran, stumbled, rose to his feet, and ran some more. All the while he swore he could hear the beating of wings as he did so.
It was the Golden Eagle that attacked him first, Tyrion losing an eye in the exchange with Syrax. Relieved when that was all the eagle took from him. The Red Dragon soon followed and Tyrion felt the flames as they burned the hair from his head and scorched his back and neck. His screams of pain were only drowned out by the sound of his feet thumping against the grass as he ran even faster now. The one good eye he had left searched both the sky above and the ground in front of him as he wondered where and when the next attack would come.
He tried to run left only to find the Golden Eagle swooping down and forcing him to run in the opposite direction. Then he tried to take a winding path only for the sight of the Red Dragon hovering in the air to force him down another. Finally, when he believed he could run no more, Tyrion felt true pain. Ghost had snuck up on him as silently as only the White Wolf was capable of doing. Once he'd done so, the White Wolf ensured that Tyrion would never run again. His legs were now useless and Tyrion almost welcomed the thought that he'd simply bleed out, he was once more engulfed in flames. Aegerax cauterized the wounds leaving Tyrion writhing on the ground in agony.
"I told you to run." Jacaerys Targaryen's voice called out. "That there was no place you could hide from me."
"I…"
"It's today, Tyrion." the voice said and Tyrion turned to see a wraith, specter, harbinger of death standing beside him.
Jacaerys was the Stranger personified. Tyrion knew that now. It had always been so, yet, now, finally, he could see it clearly. As he felt himself be lifted from the ground. Tied to a makeshift branch, Tyrion resolved himself to his fate. Death was soon to be upon him and after what he'd suffered at the teeth, claws, and flames of three majestic beasts, he welcomed what was to come. He very much should not have.
Dark Sister had a hunger for blood or so the legends said. Whether that was true or not, in Jacaerys Targaryen's hands it now very much did. Tyrion felt his stomach be cut open. He looked on as his insides were removed and placed over his shoulder. Then he felt his ribs being broken from behind and the cut of the Valyrian Steel as it sliced through his back. Beneath him, a pool of blood seemed to soak into the ground. Tyrion had he any semblance of rational thought available to him would have wondered where the oak that served as the Red Keep's heart tree was. Instead, he felt his breath leave his body as his lungs were pulled through the open wounds of his back.
His last moments were spent looking into the darkest grey eyes he'd ever seen. Eyes that showed no joy in what they'd done and which knew not the mercy of taking his head from his shoulders. As he drew his last breath, Tyrion heard Jacaerys speak but two words.
"For Daenerys."
King's Landing 307 AC.
Jacaerys Targaryen.
The life of a king was never one he'd sought. Jace had accepted the Northern crown only because it was given to him by the Lords and Ladies of the North. He'd done all he could to then prepare them for the true fight to come only to find that in truth he'd prepared them not. Had he done so, then they may have accepted Daenerys as truly as she deserved to be, and who knew how that may have turned out.
Now, however, was no time to reflect on the bad choices and decisions he'd once made. His House had no time for him to wallow and needed him to instead make better and truer choices now he was king once more. None more true than the woman he'd named as his wife and queen and who would be the mother of his children. Desmera had probably been the best choice he'd ever made if he was being honest with himself.
It would fall to her to rule while once again Jace waged war. Her to soothe his worries and concerns should they arise. To teach their babe the things he could not and to be to the people all he was ill-equipped to be. In this, he had the gods' own favor as he doubted there was or had been a woman in the realm more capable of all of it than his wife. Not even his idealized version of Dany could match up if Jace was being honest. At times he was finding it easier to be to himself most of all.
"Aye, I love her. Gods help me for I wished it not to be so, but I love her and I know now what my uncle truly meant."
"Jace?" Davos asked.
"Love is not the death of duty, Davos, it's what makes duty bearable." Jace smiled.
That was the truth he'd come to realize. To be alone was to be dead. Jace may as well have remained lost in the void that he'd found himself in when his former brothers had taken his life. For what price the restoration of his House? The continuation of his line?
"What is duty against the feeling of a newborn son in your arms…or the memory of a brother's smile," Jace said softly.
Still, he'd gone about his duty as best he could. Both he and Desmera doing all they could to improve the lives of those they meant to rule over. Offering them opportunities where before they'd had none. A City Watch that served the city as it was always supposed to be and which offered good and true men the chance to serve and earn honest coin. That had just been the start of things and Desmera had shown that she knew even more than he what the people truly needed.
Davos too had played his part and it had allowed Jace to concentrate on other matters. Not least of which had been the executions of Sam and Tyrion. Both of them had found their ends to be bloody and painful. Neither knew that those ends served another purpose other than that of vengeance or justice. Only Jace and Malora, truly understood why so much blood needed to be spilled.
"From the Isle of Faces, Jace," Malora said holding up the two seeds.
"Weirwoods?" he asked, unsure if that's what they were.
"They are, to be planted on the spots where Tyrion Lannister and Samwell Tarly meet their ends. Fed from the blood that flows from both of them so they'll grow strong and last as long as your House rules."
"How long will that be?" he asked curiously as he held the seed in his hand.
"I know not, but what the Old Gods bid of you is what was once bid of House Stark, how long has the Weirwood in Winterfell's Godswood stood for?"
Jace had always intended the deaths to be bloody. As he had for those deaths to be done in Dany's name. Knowing that in doing so he'd see Weirwoods grow in King's Landing. That he, his children, and their children after them would be able to kneel and pray to the Old Gods, only made him even more eager to shed that blood. So, once Sam had met his end, Jace had watched as the sapling grew from the seed he'd buried beneath him.
He'd then seen the oak tree which had stood even longer than his House had ruled, was cut down and removed root and stem. Once it was, Jace had planted the other seed and it was on that spot that Tyrion Lannister breathed his last. Again the sapling taking root and just looking at it now, you'd be hard-pressed to believe it was just days earlier that he'd taken Tyrion from this world and sent him into the next.
"For Dany," he whispered.
True some of it had been for his own vengeance and justice he sought for what was done to him. An even larger part had been because Jace knew he could leave none alive whom he named as enemies. That he'd not bring his babe into this world with those who wished them ill around to see it done. Not if there was a way to take them from this world before then.
Most of it he had wished to and had managed to make it be about what they'd done to Daenerys. The vengeance and justice that was owed to her and that one day, he himself, would need to pay his own debt for. He believed when it came to Sansa it would prove a task impossible to him, however. When the girl who'd been his sister once, finally breathed her last, Jace would speak two different words in her ear.
"For Desmera," he said smiling.
With the executions over. Allies rewarded. It was time to look to the war to come. The Vale had called its banners, its knights seeking to prove themselves how they had always claimed to be. Yohn Royce's arrogant words in Winterfell's halls now came back to Jace as he sat at his desk and planned out the battles in his head.
"The Knights of the Vale are the greatest cavalry in Westeros, your grace. Surely you don't expect us to ride with savages who hold not to their discipline."
If it came down to the fight that Yohn Royce wished for, then far too many would die and so Jace would see that it did not. He may offer them a tempting target, but arrows and crossbow bolts along with some other surprises would be what they truly faced. Spears, spikes, thrice the size of men all that awaited any who managed to make it through as Jace drew the field of battle on the parchment in front of him.
When it came to the North, word had been sent and more would be once he spoke to Meera Reed and Wylla Manderly. Jace smiling to himself at the thoughts of Asher and Gwyn Whitehill being reunited Love again proving itself to be an irresistible force.
Walking from his solar, Jace considered seeking out his wife but knew that Desmera was holding the petitions today. Davos was by her side at his wife's request as it was mainly Small Folk who they'd be seeing. With a nod to Ser Sigorn, together they walked up the long flight of stairs that led to the parapets and Jace smiled upon seeing both Syrax and Aegerax waiting for them.
The Red Dragon dwarfed even Ghost now. While Syrax was thrice the size of the largest of Malora's Gyrfalcons. Jace took a seat on the wall and waited for them both to land beside him. For the next hour, he praised them both, thanked them for what they'd done to Tyrion and how they'd forced him to go where he wished him to. Something he'd done to Ghost more than once since that day too.
"Aye, we'll be traveling soon enough. North but not fully there as of yet." Jace said as Syrax screeched and Aegerax snorted. "No, we'll not miss the babe being born," he said to a happy chirp and a loud trill.
Jace prayed to the Old Gods to make that so. His words he hoped were ones they listened to. That night, he and Desmera lay together and as always, afterward he held her in his arms and spoke softly to both his wife and their babe. Jace even sang to them both, something his wife seemed to appreciate. Lady Malora's lessons had come in handy given the smile on Desmera's face.
In three days, a ship would arrive from the North, and by week's end, Jace and his army would be marching through the Crownlands. Within a moon or more, they'd fight a grand battle. The rest was up to the gods, he'd made his plans and believed them sound, and with their help, he'd soon be marking another name off his list. It left but one and he hoped that Malora was right and Arya had not sought to make land. He found he wished not to kill another girl he'd named a sister once.
"Yet I will if I must," Jace said softly as he softly stroked his sleeping wife's ever-swelling belly.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Asher Forrester is reunited with the woman he loves. Jace meets with some daughters of the North. The Knights of the Vale march as the Riverlords muster and Sansa and Harrold make ready to greet their Bannermen before saying their goodbyes to Winterfell as the war for thrones moves ever closer.
For those following my other fics, Dragonverse and Purple Deception are up next.
Missed Reviews.
Chapter 1
Wireless Down: You forget just how many Targaryen supporters there still would be in Westeros, as did the showrunners, unfortunately. Also when you take into account just what state the end of the show left the realm, then you would see just how open it is for Jon to take it. By naming Bronn as Master of Coin, Lord of HG, and Warden of the Reach, simply because they kinda forgot that there were other Great Houses there and not just the Tyrells, it's almost set up for Jon to gain its support. By naming Bran, a crippled king with no blood right to the Iron Throne as king, not to mention someone that would be seen as an abnormality to most of Westeros including the Faith, they set the grounds for anyone with a better claim to take over. Hell, Gendry has a truer claim than Bran does.
Now Jon would need to prove the truth of course, and some would not believe it at face value. Others wouldn't care as they have been given no gain by those who now sit on the Iron Throne and so could be swayed with promises. But yes, he has to win the support and then win the throne, but once he gets the one, the second is easier since neither Bran nor Tyrion actually knows how to wage war. As for Jon embracing one side over the other, well other than him embracing neither what point is there. His not wishing to be a dragon over a wolf is what led him to where he ended up, if he then decides to be a Stark, then he'll just stay north of the wall, so his being a Targ is what gives the story its impetus and is needed.
The North is easier to take, and Jon has no real plan in the opening chapter, other than he wants to take it all, the North and the South.
Guest: What a Witty and Wonderful comment, why you must be some sort of poet. I bow down to your obvious literary genius. See, Sarcasm truly is the lowest form of wit. So go read a story you find less retarded and know I'll miss you not.
Chapter 7:
Shadowslayer: As you may see by now, very much so.
Chapter 3: What became of the cities after Dany left or once she died is not the issue, nor what's been referred to. The simple fact is that she did free the slaves there from their masters and then defended them when the masters came to take the cities back. That's the actions being referred to, in the same way as saying a siege was broken or a man was killed by another man. Long term, that's a different matter. For example, you can say that Ned Stark ruled the North well for 15 years, that doesn't change the fact that it fell to pieces after he died does it? So referring to the actions someone took or the achievements they had, doesn't negate those achievements because they eventually were reversed.
Robert Baratheon won the Iron Throne, the fact he was a terrible king and left the realm in massive debt doesn't change that he won the rebellion now, does it?
What actions are we presented with in regard to Dany that show her bad side? Other than what happens in King's Landing, name one action she does that shows her bad side. One action that doesn't paint her how the show framed her, which is as a heroine. The fact that afterward they tried to paint those actions as something they were not is irrelevant, up until the attack on King's Landing and its aftermath, every action that we're shown, that Jon is shown, paints Dany as heroic. So Jon refers to that, to her actions in Essos, which did indeed free people from slavery, while at the same time, he doesn't dispute her actions in King's Landing. Was Jon fascinated by her, yes he was, but it wasn't simply her looks, far from it. It was because of all she'd done and what she promised to do, that played just as much of a part in it as anything else. In the end, the show painted her as a villain and Jonhas addressed that here. But let's be honest here, at no point until that end did they paint her as anything other than a heroine. And when they tried to retcon her actions, they convieiniantly forgot about the fact that the people doing so, had their own actions that could easily be painted in the same light. Dany burned the Tarlys, true enough, but Sansa fed Ramsay to his hounds, which of those actions paints whom in the worst light? Yet one is still painted as good and true, while the other is questioned by Tyrion Lannister and others, a man who killed his own father, who just happened to be unarmed by the way. Tywin may have deserved to die, but cursed is the Kinslayer in Westerosi folklore.
Yenerys: Can't say too much about Dany for now. Just one possible plotline.
Hyokage: With Bran, the thing is that while he's dead in body, his spirit is trapped within Drogon and can never be free. His death won't actually come until Drogon himself dies and until then, he'll suffer greatly. Jace only took his body from the world, the rest of him has a couple of hundred years of torture still to come. I've seen that too with the sword, Jaime had the other part so it should be there somewhere too. As for the COTR and the North, we'll see if we can find anyone with some Stark blood in them.
Guest: Bran isn't technically dead, I mean he is in body, but his spirit is trapped in Drogon, so we may see at least one more POV of him. I think while Sam can be clever, it deserts him when it comes to his cowardice. I don't remember Sansa saying that about Jon, but she may well have, as for Tyrion, I think and I've tried to show it here, that his mind just wasn't what it once had been. He pushed for Bran rather than Jon probably simply because he felt him easier to manipulate. Or maybe because he thought that at some point Jon would realize what he'd done, what Tyrion had helped him do. Oh, the Vale will still be arrogant, it's how they are, but hearing what Jon has done will cause them some concerns, we'll see that as they march in the next chapter. I agree on Brienne, though she does beat Loras too, but I never rated her as a great fighter and while Jon in the show is made better than he is in the books, I'd still back him to take her even in his book form. Jon almost seems to me to be a swordsman that would do better in a real fight than a practice one. Here, against showjon, she's no chance.
Not everyone who went against Arya was from the HOBW, only a couple of them and they came at her far too front on. The others she's killed along the way are simple bandits or wanna-be pirates. I think that's it with Ned, the whole, We find our true friends on the battlefield thing, it's been something that bugs me more and more however, because when you take that away, everything else Ned does should cause an issue. He put a sept in WF and leaves to be Hand of the King, betroths yet another Stark daughter to the South. Yet, he's revered almost which makes no sense. As for the Northern reaction to Bran's death, other than it is to all eyes Jon who did the deed, they won't care.
Finkarhu: You're more than welcome.
Celexys: You would think given it's said often enough that it wouldn't be that hard to remember right, lol.
Vfsnake: We'll see with Tormund and Brienne, but yes, the Broken Fool sounds about right. Hope you enjoyed Tyrion/Sam's ends.
Dunk: I wanted that to come across with the Unsullied/Dothraki, even with Grey Worm, they weren't what they'd once been. Either in terms of their own strength or even their leadership. Tactically they did what they do, the Dothraki charged and the Unsullied tried to repeat Qohor, so it wasn't as much about listening to Tyrion on that score. However, Jace was ready for them which makes all the difference. I've said it before but one of the things which annoys me so much about the Battle of the Bastards is that just like the Battle of Winterfell, it's written by people who don't understand battle tactics. Jon in the books is very adept, just like Robb was. We see this in his defending the Wall. While we see his strategic side, a side where Robb was lacking, in the plans he gives Stannis to take the North.
I've so wished to write a Jon taking the North from his resurrection at the Wall, and I will be writing it at some point in my Chronicles series, but here, he simply knew what his enemies would do and was easily able to counter it. We will see more of Bran, as he's dead only in body, which will be explained more later. As for Jace talking to Tyrion/Sam, I kind of went with him not wishing to, so instead he just speaks about their crimes. With Arya, it's hard, because the more she hears, the worse she'll feel and so she may try something.
Scarilla: With Brienne if it was not for her own nature and knowing how it would affect Tormund, Jace wouldn't have put so much effort into making sure she survived. So there is probably a decent chance that Tormund will at least try to steal her again. Yeah with Arya her staying away is probably what's for the best when it comes to how Jace feels about her. Time and distance would allow him to think of her differently, whereas if she came back now, he'd probably think he needed to kill her. On her side, it's that she thinks the dreams as being simply that, and whether or not she finds she needs to know, then what she'd do once she found out, so we'll see.
Guest: Not sure where you got I don't like Dany, as she's one of my fave characters and she and Jon as a pairing is my fave pairing. However, I am an unapologetic Jon fan and he's always the protagonist of my stories which creates an issue when it comes to Dany as if she's not paired with him, she then becomes somewhat of a side character. I mean, take away Dany going for the Iron Throne in a story and you're left with her as either Jon's aunt and a side character in the Westeros arc or stuck in Essos and either a side character there or a character that's barely referred to. Here, in this specific story, we're dealing with the fallout from the end of the show. The story itself is meant to be my take on what a potential Jon Snow sequel series could be. The entire reason I began it was because of speculation that such a series may be in the works.
So knowing that you then have to deal with the elephant in the room. What Dany did in King's Landing. Now there are a few ways you can go about that. Have it all be Bran's work, but those stories are already out there. Have Dany be resurrected and come seeking revenge or have Jon seek a way to bring her back from the dead and they both seek vengeance, again a number of stories already cover this ground. I decided to go with Jon both acknowledging that what he did was wrong and yet at the same time, the right thing to do. That Dany acted out of grief and loss and yet she still needed to be stopped and it fell to Jon to stop her. I did that because I think it's fertile and uncovered ground storyline-wise. Jon accepts his part in killing Dany as being wrong. That he failed her as much as anyone else did, more even. However, he also accepts that after her actions and what she suggested she may do next, Dany needed to die. That's not me hating on Dany or her character, but given a realistic view of how someone may look at her actions. He then seeks vengeance on her behalf and you see it here when he kills Tyrion/|Sam, it's in her name.
Jon is well aware of his own failures and they haunt him. He also believes that when he finally leaves this world, he'll pay for them and is cursed because of them. He's accepted that, but he's at the same time focused on avenging Dany and to an extent himself and his House, and to make sure that House Targaryen lives on. In regard to his killing of non-westorsi, he killed the Dothraki because he felt that when they grew strong enough, they'd pose a risk to the kingdom he is trying to create. They've crossed the so-called poison sea once already, what's to stop them from doing so again? As for the Unsullied, he tried to give them an out because he knew Grey Work would never accept it for himself, but was turned down and so was left with no choice. He actually regrets the deaths of the Unsullied, because, without Grey Worm, they'd not have caused him an issue. With the Dothraki, he couldn't be sure of the same thing.
We can argue back and forth over the rights and wrongs of how the reveal was handled, Dany asking Jon not to reveal his truth, which cuts both ways as she's asking him to deny himself for her. However, I think having Jon address the fact that he both believes what he did was wrong and yet not, makes more sense for this story.
Anonymous: I think Jon would rather see Tyrion, Bran, Sam, and others displayed that way.
Matt Black: I do wonder if Brienne is even aware of the origin of the sword she wields. Given how she goes on about honor, you'd imagine if she was, then she'd have offered it back to the Starks the moment she arrived in WF.
Xan Merrick: Not one of the heads no, but there may be some Stark blood out there, a small theory that I'm going to play around with later. No way was Drogon ever going to let Bran in for true, my friend.
Galwithanatitud: So very glad you liked it.
Wrysensofhumour: It's astounding when you think about it, not only does Ned leave with the issue with the Wildlings, but he allows Jon to go to the Wall, with the issue with the Wildlings. I mean, that for me just beggars belief and puts a final nail in the 'Ned did all he could to protect Jon' argument. You don't allow/send someone to a place that is somewhat in a constant state of warfare if what you wish is for them to be protected. It gets even worse when you think about the fact that Ned is leaving to go South and allowing Jon to leave Robb too, when of all the possible times that Robb may need a brother's help, this would most certainly be it. I mean, Ned believes the Lannisters responsible for killing Jon Arryn, Tywin's reputation is well known, the chances of a war breaking out in the South if he's right is bloody likely, and he has the Wildling issue in the North, if there was ever a time to tell Cat to get over herself and demand that Jon stay by his brother's side, that was it.
You could even forgive him somewhat had he allowed/sent Jon away before the king arrives, as you could then argue he was afraid of Robert or someone else seeing his father in him, yet, he doesn't do it until after.
As for him bringing the girls, again, given what he's going there for it just makes no sense. I mean yes, we know that it's one of those little Georgisms that are needed for the plot to advance, same as the fact that Edmure Tully despite being a man grown is unwed or Theon Greyjoy despite being an Iron Born hostage is treated as a ward. But, really logically when you look at it, it makes Ned look like a complete moron.
George I think loves playing with the first/second son dynamic and flipping it on its head at times. We get quiet Ned and Brash Brandon, which is sort of revered with Robb and Jon (yes I know Jon isn't a second son, but you know what I mean) and of course Daemon/Viserys. I do agree that some of Daemon's aggressiveness is down to Viserys' lack of the same. And Bringing up Tytos Lannister is an apt description. We also see George play around with that dynamic with the Targs and Maegor early on too.
No, I was a bit wary too given the age profiles of Dany/Drogo and I will admit I hated all those scenes. I try not to delve too much into that realm if I can, usually only at most putting one or two scenes of that nature in an entire story and always marking them out for when they start and end. Even making sure that the scenes themselves don't have anything plot-related in them, so they can be avoided without losing anything by doing so. And I have no issue with someone expressing a preference or not liking a certain type of scene, I feel the same with certain things and it's no bother to me to point that out when needed.
J: The show's numbers are both smaller and larger, in that they name them larger on the Wiki, but they're certainly smaller in the little we can see of them (remember how dark the Battle of Blackwater Bay was in the show, we should have guessed they'd try the same thing with the Battle of WF). So I went with Stannis having fewer numbers in terms of ships and more in terms of men. Mainly Stannis has fewer ships here, which is really what Davos refers to and a little of it is in relation to the men themselves, which are made up mainly of the Company of the Rose, who are a different caliber to those Stannis had to call on.
Tyrion's surprise about the Redwyne fleet is more because so many are brought to bear and even here, not all are. Desmera sent some back with her mother, others are trading, as not all the ships are technically warships, just that they can be.
I wanted to leave it open with Drogon's thoughts, mainly it's because he manipulated Sam into telling Jon his truth to drive the wedge between him and Dany, which in turn led to where it led. But I wanted to leave it open because I've not decided how far to go with Dany's storyline here.
With Duram, yes, he had a bit of a growth spurt, it's been seven years or so since the time he was referenced in the books, so I had him grow into himself and as for him being feeble minded, I wanted that to just be an impression. As you see, he's been rewarded here. I don't think the Dothraki would learn to be honest, remember they were victorious against the Lannisters on the Rose Road, and so they'd still think themselves more than a match for knights in steel dresses.
Novicewriter: At some point yes I will, for now, I need to finish the ongoing fics first, but I do have a couple of ideas regarding Jon's traveling that start off before the canon timeline begins, one where he goes east and joins the Company of the Rose in a bid to follow Brandon Snow's footsteps, all those stories do end up in Westeros as the endgame however.
VwChick: Exactly, as much as it should scare her, Sansa's narcissism would actually think it a bit of a boon as it would mean she wouldn't need to be seen to go directly against Bran and instead could use his death to rally people to her cause. Also that it opened up the path to her becoming queen of all seven kingdoms even more truly.
Flame 55: So very glad you liked it.
ChrissyKat: I've read so many different things regarding the show writers in the end not liking Kit and Emilia that it makes me believe that they deliberately set out to get at them through their characters. I mean, I can't believe that the books will not end up with Jon Snow facing off against the Night King, it just wouldn't make any sense for them not to. Arya killing a villain that she had literally no connection to whatsoever, just so they could subvert expectations makes less sense to me than them screwing Kit over by not giving him the moment, to be honest. It's clear too. The fact that Jon is the only one with a Direwolf is quite telling for me and I feel exactly the same regarding Arya. I don't even have an issue with Sansa betraying Jon, other than they try to present it as her being in the right, when she's clearly not. But with Arya, it would cut to the bone for Jon and it did for me as a fan. Like you I too hated the Starks in the end, which really shows the depths of the failure of the writers as given all they'd gone through, we should still be rooting for them.
Ned just gets worse and worse for me the more you analyze his actions. In a comment above to another reviewer, I responded to them mentioning that Ned knew of the Wildling threat and that he was traveling to dangerous ground to do something that could bring the realm to war, given Tywin Lannister's reputation and Robert's temper. Yet, he doesn't see a need to make Jon stay in WF, where Robb could use his help and for those who say he protected Jon, Ned is literally allowing/sending Jon to a war zone. How is that protecting him? There are so many of his actions that when you look at them objectively, just paint Ned in a bad light IMO.
Losmuertos: So glad you're liking the friendships. I think once Desmera fell pregnant, Jon would always fall in love with her, but even apart from that, she's almost the first woman he's consciously chosen to be with.
