JON
Jon leaned against Rhaegal's scaly back, feeling the heat radiate though his leather armour as they hurled downwards towards the Whispering Sound. Rhaegal's wings were tucked close to his body as the wind whipped past them and Jon watched the ash and blood-stained sea rapidly grow closer.
Ships littered the bay, many of them breaking and burning as their corpses sank to the bottom of the waters that the Ironborn had defiled, as the Kraken swung his tentacles wildly into the air.
The creature that had emerged from the deep, let out a wail as one of its limbs slammed into a ship, scorching its skin on the emerald flames dancing on the broken body of the vessel.
As quickly as it took to blink, Rhaegal snapped his wings open, halting their decent immediately and soon they were racing over the smoking waters as the dragon burnt every ship that came across them, as any and all ships that still remained seaworthy tried desperately to turn and head back west.
His knuckles turned white as he felt the anger burn in his chest as he watched them try and flee back to the desolate rocks that they called home.
Rhaegal had to have burnt at least twenty ships before they headed right back into the clouds, and Jon could see Viserion descend from the skies, and pale and golden wraith plunging towards the ships to deliver a fiery death to the Ironborn.
When they reached the lowest clouds, Jon felt the temperature was almost freezing and the air around him was getting a lot thinner, yet it was not enough to cool his fury at the Reavers. He remembered Theon Greyjoy brag about the Ironborn and how every man in the isles was a warrior, and every captain was a king.
However, Jon did not agree with Theon Turncloak.
The Reavers of the Ironborn were slavers and cowards that stole from better people.
Rhaegal turned in the air and then, they were again racing towards the sea.
Again and again, they burnt the ships of the Ironborn, before shooting back to the clouds before descending from the skies once again.
With every attack, Jon could see that the Kraken grew angrier, likely from the pain of the sea growing hotter with every attack, as it screamed and roared as it thrashed in fury, slamming its tentacles into anything that could reach, sending the smoking and steaming sea water into the air.
The beast did not spare anything, not the waves nor the ships of the Reavers.
Jon watched as a tentacle swung up from the sea, swinging up water and along with it, a few bodies that had been thrown into the Whispering Sound by the Reavers.
Jon's lips twisted in disgust at the Ironborn as Rhaegal angled himself in the air, rising once again into the skies after a successful run against the ships.
The kraken slammed one tentacle onto the surface of the waters, and Jon could see the remains of a black hull and a broken figurehead of a woman with her hand outstretched, as if begging for someone to grab it and drag her out of the waters.
Rhaegal let out a breath of emerald flames, hitting close to the creature as it hurriedly retreated into the sea. As the green dragon passed over; the kraken's limbs shot out of the waters after them, trying to get a hold on them to drag them into the depts.
Jon frowned as he glanced at the kraken, who he could still see from so high above the waters. It seemed to dislike the rapidly rising temperatures that were created as the dragons set the ships ablaze, and it would be a lot easier for them to just case it away.
He could not risk flying to close to the surface of the Whispering Sound, for he had little interest in recreating the fate of Jacaerys Velaryon and Vermax. However, they could make it so that the kraken simply gave up and headed for colder and more forgiving waters.
Rhaegal roared a challenge to the kraken, that was echoed by Viserion who joined them in their assault of the creature that had been attracted by the needless bloodletting of the Ironborn.
Again and again, the two dragons breathed their fires on the waters, making them steam and reek as the blood mingled with the water.
Pulling out of a dive, Jon glanced at Viserion as he made a pass over the kraken. A tentacle shot out of the waters and managed to grab onto white dragon's leg, making Jon's gut twist in worry.
Viserion shrieked in surprise as the tentacle snapped at his leg and another grabbed at his ankle. Beating his wings faster, the pale dragon roared as the kraken fought for a better hold, as he tried to dragon Viserion to the depths in its fury.
Turning Rhaegal, Jon's heart beat faster and faster as they hurtled towards Viserion, who roared and snapped at his attacker, while beating his wings faster as he struggled to stay aloft with the extra weight of the kraken.
Rhaegal roared in anger and Jon feeling the emerald dragon´s rage as the kraken wrapped another tentacle around the white dragon´s thigh even as Viserion rose slowly higher into the sky, trying to get away from his attacker, lifting the tentacled creature out of the water.
Closing the distance, Rhaegal snapped his maw at the body of the kraken, far away from the grotesque limbs that were clinging to Viserion, trying to tear the beast away from his sibling.
"VISERION, DRACARYS." The word tore itself out of Jon´s mouth before he had even a finished the thought.
Viserion was quick to respond, letting out torrent of golden flames that landed directly where the tentacles grew from the body of the beast as he tried to fly higher into the sky, away from its reach.
The kraken roared again, its painfilled cry filling the air as it hastily let Viserion go, trying to escape the flames.
The pale dragon lunched himself forward, biting down on the kraken as the two dragons swirled around in the air, and together Rhaegal and Viserion broke away from one another, tearing the kraken apart, each one with one half of the beast in their mouths.
The sickly-sweet smell tickled at Jon´s nose as the odour of burning kraken meat lingered in the air around him, masking the scent of dust, ash and blood.
Rhaegal balanced himself in the air again, beating his enormous wings as Jon scanned the Whispering Sound. The broken bodies of the ships that had made up the Ironfleet, littered the waters as they slowly sunk into the blood-stained sea.
Gliding over the graveyard of ships, Rhaegal still had his half of the kraken. There was a smugness that radiated of the emerald dragon. From having captured such a large pray.
Hunger seemed to rush over Jon. A hunger not his own and he urged Rhaegal to turn, which the dragon was only too happy to obey.
Flying towards the city, Jon could spot the banners of the houses of the Reach littering the streets everywhere, much to his relief.
Circling over Oldtown, Jon kept his eyes on the streets and buildings. Trying to spot any reavers.
After a flying over the city a few times, Viserion ever at their heels, he could see Ironborn rushing into buildings to take shelter in. Taking note of the locations, Jon steered Rhaegal to the citadel. He needed to see Sam and make sure he, Gilly and the babe were alright, now that the ships of the Ironborn had been dealt with.
Rhaegal´s huge wings kicked up dust as he landed on the wall surrounding the Citadel of the maesters as half of the kraken dangled from his mouth.
Slowly and carefully, Rhaegal climbed off the wall, as the people in the courtyard all stared at them. Jon was not blind to the fear in their eyes as they watched them make their way of the wall. Resting a hand on Rhaegal´s emerald scales, Jon urged him to move slowly and in the least threatening manner a huge dragon could possibly manage.
Rhaegal dropped the carcass in his mouth as he lowered himself to the ground, his chest, neck and head lying flat against it, allowing Jon to dismount from his back.
As he climbed down from Rhaegal´s back, Viserion landed beside his brother, with his own half of the pray between his teeth.
Stepping forward, Jon gave Rhaegal a rub on the nose before directing his attention to Viserion. Looking over the pale dragon, Jon could not see any injuries, yet he knew that Viserion would need to be watched carefully over the next days, just to make sure.
Giving Viserion a rub like his brother, Jon smiled at him before turning to scan the gathered crowd for a familiar face. Beside a tall young man, gripping a cane stood the man Jon had been looking for.
Sam grinned happily at him and rushed forward, not even paying the huge dragons beside Jon any mind. His brother slammed into him, causing Jon to take a step back as they hugged. "Are you alright Sam? And Gilly and the babe?"
"We are fine." Sam let go, his smile so wide that it split his face. "Gilly and baby Sam are in the Sept." Jon nodded, feeling relieved that he had not sent his best friend, a woman and her child to their deaths.
Hot gust of wind blew away his thought as whatever Sam had intended to say halted in his mouth, as Rhaegal leaned in closer and studied him with his molten eyes. "This is them." Sam asked, his eyes wide and curious.
Jon remembered how afraid Sam had been of Ghost when they had first met, yet now, meeting a huge fire breathing dragon, he seemed almost unafraid. "Aye, this is Rhaegal, and that," Jon gestured to the pale dragon who sniffed the air before turning his gaze to his well-earned meal. "Is Viserion."
"May I?" Sam looked at Jon and then at Rhaegal, who was staring at Sam with inquisitive eyes.
Nodding, Jon watched as Sam reaching out his hand and stopped halfway to Rhaegal´s snout. The large dragon sniffed at him carefully before he gently closed the distance, allowing Sam to give him a rub.
Jon could hear the gasps around the courtyard, as the crowd that had gathered there watched Sam so nonchalantly pet Rhaegal.
"Your grace." The man leaning on a cane limped forward and bowed deeply. "I am Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden. I thank you for coming to our aid."
Nodding, Jon turned his attentions away from where Sam was still admiring Rhaegal. "There is no need my lord. If it were at all possible, could I trouble you for a map of the city? During our flight I noticed that the Ironborn were taking refuge in some of the buildings near the harbour. I would like to mark them for you and your men."
Lord Willas nodded eagerly. "Of course, you grace, at once." Gesturing for a young maester to fetch a map, they did not have to wait long for him to return.
The maester arrived with a detailed map and a table so that they could lay it on as well as charcoal. As he marked the buildings he had seen Ironborn take shelter in, Jon felt Sam come to his side as Rhaegal turned his attention to his supper.
"These are the buildings that I saw them enter, however there could well be more."
"Thank you, your grace, this will prove invaluable to our men." Lord Willas´s brown eyes drifted across the map once more. "Oldtown and the Reach are in your debt." Moving slightly, lord Willas stood back and gripped his cane so hard that his knuckles turned white as every soul in the courtyard watched.
Lord Willas leaned hard on his cane as he forced his knees to bend, quickly followed by the others who were watching. "Your grace. I pledge my fealty to you and your house. The Reach and Highgarden are yours to command."
Jon felt the comforting heat radiate of Rhaegal, a steady presence of strength when he was sure that the world was going mad. "Thank you, my lord, you may rise." He fought the urge to reach forward and help the other man back to his feet. Lords were proud, and likely many would disparage the man for having an injury that prevented him for fighting. Having Jon help to his feet would only exacerbate that the image of frailty.
So, Jon kept still, allowing the man to take his time to get to his feet. "Thank you, your grace." Lord Willas´s face was pale from the effort it had taken, yet his eyes convey his gratitude for not having Jon reach forward to help him. "Your grace I have heard that you have negotiated peace between you and the Lannisters."
Nodding, Jon hoped that the peace was still alive and well.
The tensions between the North, the Riverlands and the West were still high, and he just hoped that the threat of the Others was enough to quell them while he was away. "Aye, Ser Jaime and I have talked and came to an understanding, however, his sister is still in King´s Landing and declaring her son as the king of the Seven Kingdoms."
Lord Willas looked relieved to hear about the peace between him and the West. "My father, your grace, has always been a supporter of house Targaryen, so when he heard that this Aegon was the son of Rhaegar he immediately rushed to Storm´s End where he was staying, instead of going to Highgarden as I had hoped after I sent men to rescue him and my younger siblings from Cersei and the Faith militant."
Lord Willas swallowed hard, and Jon wished that he had brought Arya with him, as she always knew when someone was lying.
"My father has never been a wise man." Lord Willas continued in a low tone so only Jon and Sam could hear him. "He is easily fooled and his wishful thinking for a son of Rhaegar Targaryen may have made him more foolish than he has been before."
Jon watched the man in silence, listening to him as he waited for the plea for his father´s life as well as that of his siblings that was coming.
He had to admit, even just to himself, he would never be able to respect a man who would have just allowed his family to be branded traitors, and he knew if they could not come to an agreement, Jon would be forever looked over his shoulder when it came to house Tyrell.
A slight burning in his chest where Olly had stabbed him flared up.
He had learned his lesson in ignoring the will of those who served under his command. It was a mistake he was not eager to repeat.
Allowing Lord Willas to continue, Jon stayed as silent as the grave, only watching and waiting for him to speak his mind.
"I know that my father will have to face consequences for his actions, however, my sister had no choice but to marry this Aegon. My father would have insisted and when they entered Storm´s End they would have been prisoners in all but name, and from what I have learned the Faith militant tortured my brother Loras."
Willas Tyrell cleared his throat, glancing at Rhaegal who was eating behind Jon, while watching out for any threats.
"What do you propose, my lord?" Jon asked finally, watching the man carefully.
Lord Willas glanced at the few maesters that were gathered in the crowd. "My father could be persuaded to step down from the lordship of Highgarden, in favour of me taking up the title."
Jon had to force himself to stay quiet and continue listening to the man. It would not be enough.
His own lords would skin him alive if they found out that Jon had agreed to such favourable terms with house Tyrell.
"And I am sure that the new High Septon would be amicable to dissolving the marriage between my sister and Aegon on the grounds that Aegon claims to be the son of Rhaegar and he has not provided any proof of his claims." Lord Willas seemed rather confidant that whoever the new High Septon would be that he would dissolve the marriage. "My brother on the other hand is a good swordsman, one of the best in all of Westeros. He would be a good household knight for any house sworn to you."
"Has the new High Septon been elected?" Sam piped up after standing silent beside Jon.
"Not yet." Lord Willas said. "But when one is elected, I have no doubt that they will have amiable to decide in our favour."
"It is a good start." Jon said slowly. "However, more is needed I am afraid."
There was no change in lord Willas´s face, as if the man had been expecting Jon´s stance on the matter. "Your brother Loras serving as a knight is acceptable. I am sure that Lord Edmure Tully will be happy to have him serve at Riverrun."
A slightly disappointed look crossed lord Willas´s face, likely the man had hoped to have his brother serve closer to Highgarden or even at the Red Keep, yet he nodded his consent. "Your father and sister on the other hand, are a trickier matter."
Jon allowed the words to sink in before continuing. "As long as he remains alive, there would be those who would claim that you are not the lord of Highgarden." Jon could see the man´s face fall and grow pale. "Your father holds to the faith of the Seven, does he not?"
At Jon´s question, lord Willas looked baffled for a moment, before realizing where Jon was going with this. "He does indeed."
"Perhaps your father desires to take the vows to serve as a Septon, there must be many holds lacking one after the rise of the Faith Militant." Jon suggested, watching the man carefully. "I know that House Manderly is of need of a new one, after the last one died of old age."
It could not be said that lord Willas Tyrell was slow on the uptake, for he immediately answered. "Yes, I am sure that the next High Septon would be happy to allow my father to take the vows and serve at Newcastle."
"About your sister." Jon said slowly as his eyes drifted back to the future lord of Highgarden.
"My sister may have said her vows to this Aegon, but they were vows made at the point of a sword." Lord Willas insisted. "Their marriage is invalid and the new High Septon will declare it so."
"And if she is with child?"
"It will be a bastard." Willas said in a low voice. "A bastard with no claim to the throne."
Staring at the man for a moment, Jon heard Rhaegal move about and take a huge bite out of his meal. "She will have to marry," lord Willas nodded, as Jon spoke. "As will you."
"Of course, your grace."
"Good, then we are in agreement." Jon could see the concern seep on to the man´s face. "Do not worry my lord. You shall have a say in this." Lord Willas looked baffled at his words.
"Truly? Your grace?"
"Of course, neither you nor your sister should be forced to spend the rest of your lives with someone who makes you miserable."
"Thank you, your grace. I shall not forget the kindness you have shown house Tyrell this day."
Then, there was a shift in the wind, and Rhaegal picked up a familiar scent, as Jon´s eyes shot to the gathered crowd. "Your grace?"
"Is Ser Jorah Mormont here?" He asked both lord Willas and Sam, who had remained silent by Jon´s side during their conversation.
"He is." Sam nodded. "He came to be healed of Greyscale."
Raising his brows Jon gave Sam a quiet look. "Sam-."
"I know." Sam interrupted in a low voice, so that only Jon and lord Willas could hear. "But lord commander Mormont wanted him to take the Black, and he did stay and help protect the city."
Resisting the urge to sigh, Jon nodded before turning to the gathered crowd, where Rhaegal had picked up the man's scent. "Ser Jorah Mormont. Why don't you join us?"
At first, no one came forward from the crowd. Not until Rhaegal hissed low in his throat and Jon spoke again. "Ser Jorah, I know you are there, please step forward."
Then the crowd moved. Ever so slowly a large man, bearing a striking similarity to the Old Bear stepped forth, his eyes stuck to the emerald dragon before him.
"How?" The Old Bear´s son whispered as his eyes went from one dragon to the other. "What?...How did you?..."
"I had thought you to have been in Essos Ser." Jon stared at the slaver, his eyes hard and voice unyielding. "Were you not serving my aunt, Daenerys Targaryen in Meereen?"
Ser Jorah´s dark, deep-set eyes found Jon, anger swirling deep within them. "How did you do this?"
"I did nothing, Ser." Jon placed his hand on Viserion´s nose, as the pale dragon hissed at the man and spoke loudly enough so that the people gathered could hear. "You on the other hand, have done a lot. Selling your smallfolk into slavery and then when my uncle comes to deliver justice, you fled to Essos, like a craven."
The former lord of Bear Island squirmed as the people gathered in the courtyard hissed and spat insults at him. "I have been working to banish slavery, alongside, Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen, the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
If he had thought that his declaration would have been met with cheers, then Ser Jorah was now sorely mistaken.
Jon observed the man for a moment before speaking again. "But I have also heard that you helped to defend Oldtown in its time of need."
The silence in the courtyard was deafening. "And it is because of that reason, that I shall allow you a choice."
Ser Jorah´s face turned red with fury, yet he did manage to hold his tongue, remaining quiet as Jon spoke again. "You can either travel to Castle Black and swear your life to the Nights Watch and regain your honour, like your father wanted. Or you can take the next ship to Essos and live out the rest of your life in exile."
Jon glared at the man for a moment, as Rhaegal let out a snort of anger, smoke rising from his nostrils. "However, shall I ever lay eyes on you again, and you are not a brother of the Watch, then I shall remove your head from your shoulders, just like my uncle intended to do."
The redness of the man´s face had disappeared, and he had turned as white as summer snow, and as lord Willas´s men escorted him away, Ser Jorah seemed hardly capable of forming words.
"He will not take the Black." Sam said to Jon, his gaze looking troubled. "He will go back to Daenerys Targaryen."
"I know."
"Then why?" Sam frowned as he looked at Jon, his brows pulled in a puzzled frown.
Jon leaned closer to Sam. "Ser Jorah helped defend the city as you said, and he came to the citadel to seek healing. The maesters might take offence if I start executing the people who seek refuge in their own courtyard."
"But what if he informs Daenerys Targaryen that you have the dragons?"
"My aunt will find out either way, sooner or later, eventually word will get to her. From what I hear she has yet to move from Slavers Bay, and it will take her months to make it to Westeros, even if she were to leave at this very moment."
Despite his words to Sam, Jon was worried about what Daenerys Targaryen would do when she found out, and that day was growing ever closer.
Another Dance of the Dragons was something that did not fill Jon with longing.
Yet he knew that it might be inevitable.
They would need to prepare for her arrival. He had no illusions that the woman he had seen through Rhaegal's eyes had any intentions of letting go of the Iron throne.
The blowing of a horn cut through the air as the guards announced that Sers Garlan Tyrell was returning.
As they entered the courtyard, cheers went through the crowd, as Euron Greyjoy was being dragged behind them, bound in chains along with a few other Ironborn, who despite the dirt and blood that covered their armour, were clearly highborn.
Euron Greyjoy's dark hair wet and filled with dirt and ash as he fought his restraints. The man´s face was starting to swell around an injury that had cut through his face, removing his eye, and broken his nose.
A man clad in colours of house Tyrell was holding on to the chains as the crowds in the courtyard cheered for the knight, as he dragged the man who had put the city so mercilessly to the sword, after his horse.
The men were forced to halt their progression into the courtyard, as their horses grew nervous in the presence of the two dragons.
Lord Willas introduced the knight as his brother Garlan, and an older man who followed in his steps as Ser Baelor Hightower, the heir to house Hightower.
Before either man could speak, Greyjoy´s eyes landed on Jon, as Rhaegal hissed quietly as he and his brother guarded his back. The Reavers eye flickered between Jon and the dragons.
"So, you are the boy who burnt my fleet, and my beast." Euron Greyjoy had the nerve to smile, yet his dark eye remained harsh and cold despite the stretching of his lips.
Jon almost frowned at the man, his army was in tetters and his fleet burnt to the bottom of the sea and yet, he acted as if they were having a quiet conversation.
Ser Baelor delivered a swift fist into Euron Greyjoy´s face, causing the Reaver to fall to his knee and spit blood on the stone.
The heir to house Hightower, who was likely of an age with Eddard Stark when he had been murdered in King´s Landing, knelt before Jon. "Your grace, Oldtown and the Hightower are yours."
"Thank you, my lord." Jon gestured for lord Baelor to rise, before looked at Euron Greyjoy. The man had a resemblance to Theon Turncloak. Both men tall with dark hair and fair skin, yet in the remaining eye of Euron Greyjoy, there was a madness that Jon had never seen in Theon.
The heir to the Hightower, gestured at the Ironborn. "Your grace, we bring Euron Greyjoy. The Raper of Oldtown."
Euron Greyjoy, in spite of having his face hit with a mailed fist and losing his eye, sniggered to the outrage of the people around him. "I am beyond the judgement of such meagre beings like you, Hightower."
Greyjoy glanced back at Jon, and he could see the smile widen. "You understand, don't you boy?" His eye went back to the two dragons who had lost their interest in their supper and were snarling at the man. "You must."
"No." Jon stared at the man who had been shoved to his knees. "I truly don't."
Euron Greyjoy tilted his head back and let out a laugh. It was without any joy in it, only filled with malice. "Oh, there is no need for you to pretend boy. I saw the way you and your dragons destroyed my fleet and my kraken. There is no use to pretend for we are the same."
"We are nothing alike." Jon felt the fury in his gut rear its head again, as the memories of the bodies flashed across his mind.
"Yes we are." Greyjoy fought to rise to his feet, only for Ser Baelor to shove him down again, his knees hitting the stone covered ground. No hint of pain emerged on his face. "We are Gods."
Jon felt his brows rise on his forehead before he could stop them as Ser Garlan snorted. "You are the furthest thing from a God that I have ever seen."
"I am a God." Greyjoy insisted. "And when I am free again, you shall taste my wrath."
Ser Baelor turned red with rage as he growled at the man who was once again struggling to rise to his feet. "You will pay for what you have done to my city."
"I will be free soon enough, my men will-."
"Enough." Jon felt the anger boil in his belly as he watched the Ironborn. Without taking his eyes of the man, Jon directed his words to Sam, who was staring at Greyjoy as if he were a rapid beast. "Sam, fetch me a block."
Sam rushed to get one as Jon felt every eye in the courtyard on him. Euron Greyjoy stared at him, almost uncomprehending until Sam laid the block not too far away from his feet. Then the reaver started laugh again. "Oh, that is right. You are of the North. Well, I have no fear of dying boy, but if you think that I will kneel to you then you are more of a fool than your grandfather, the Mad King."
Greyjoy grinned at him, his blue lips stretching as he looked at Rhaegal who snarled in response. "Why don't you allow your beast to do the deed? I would not what you to butcher the job."
"Ser Baelor, Ser Garlan, if you would be so kind." Gesturing at the block, Jon watched as the two men jumped and grabbed the Crow's Eye and forced him to lay on his belly as he thrashed and fought, bellowing out that he was a god.
Jon unsheathed Longclaw and allowed the tip of the blade to rest on the stone in front of Euron Greyjoy dark eye. "I, king Jon of house Targaryen, the first of my name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the Realm, here by sentence you do die. If you have any last words, I shall hear them now."
Jon could feel everyone stare at him, and the two men holding Euron Greyjoy down kept glancing at him, their eyes filled with approval. Yet Jon continued to stare at the Ironborn who seemed have lost the ability to speak. Greyjoy stared at him before he spoke in an almost whisper. "I am a God."
He seemed much smaller as he lay there on the stone, held down by the two knights. Almost like a child that was afraid of a dark tale from his nurse.
Greyjoy repeated those words. "I am a god, I am a god, I am a god." Until Jon gripped the hilt of Longclaw tight and lifted her above his head, and then swung her down in an arch.
He almost did not feel the valyrian steel sever the man's head from his shoulders, yet as the Reavers head tumbled to the stone, Jon could hear the people in the yard cheer as the hot blood squirted onto the ash covered stone and the man's legs started to kick furiously at the ground.
BRAN
His head felt like someone was continuously beating it with a great Warhammer from the inside. Keeping his eyes closed, trying to shield them from the dying rays of the sun to keep the ache under control, Bran let out a groan.
He had stretched too far again and would need a good bit of rest. Opening his eyes slightly, Bran looked to Summer, who was taking a sip from the pool in the Godswood. Bran would have to content himself with the direwolf for the next few days.
"You have been away for hours, Bran." Looking up at the concerned face of his sister, Bran smiled slightly, hoping to reassure her as she walked closer. "Did you see anything of note?"
"Not yet. However, I need to continue to try." Bran insisted as Sansa sat on the log beside his chair.
"You must rest." Sansa countered firmly, reminding Bran a little of their father. "You cannot push yourself too hard."
"I must. I must find a way to make Valyrian steel." Looking to the sky, he felt the determination within him grow fiercer when he saw the silver Umbriel pass over the Godswood shrieking as he rose higher in the air. "It would help in the war against the Others."
"I know but you need to rest. If you push yourself too hard…" As she trailed off her blue eyes staring into the pool that the Stark children had used to learn how to swim when they had been younger. "I don't want to lose you. I will not lose you."
"You won´t." Trying to comfort her, Bran reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "How about you? You also need rest."
"I know but I have to rule the North and make sure that supply lines hold and that the Night´s Watch has everything they need to defend the Wall, while trying to feed the entire population after the North was savaged by the Greyjoys and their Reavers." The strained smile did not reach her eyes. "And I did not sleep well last night."
Glancing at her belly, the smile on her face became softer and Bran could see her eyes grow brighter. "The little one made me nauseous all night."
"Have you thought what you are going to name my niece or nephew?" Bran asked as the dragons made another pass over the Godswood.
"I have a few ideas, but I want to wait for Jon. I think that he should have a small saying in what we name his heir." She laughed, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder.
Bran smiled at his sister, her joy at becoming a mother was so clear to see. "Are you thinking of Aegon if it is a boy? And Rhaenys if it is a girl?"
Sansa flushed and gave him a slight swat on his shoulder. "Perhaps. Do you think that Jon would like that?" The queen of the Seven kingdoms seemed very uncertain as she voiced her thoughts, her eyes darting to the dragons above them occasionally.
"I think that Rhaenys is perfect if your child is a girl." Bran replied honestly. "It is a traditional Targaryen name, and it would be honouring his sister. However, I think for a boy, Aemon would be preferable."
"Really? After the maester at the Wall?" Sansa asked her eyes now fixed on him.
"Aye, I saw through the Weirwood that they were close." Bran confessed. "I think that Jon would want his son named after the uncle he did not know he had while the man was alive."
"Jon told me a little about him, said that he was kind and wise." Sansa nodded, her fingers fidgeting with her blue skirt. "A good name for a king. Letting out a little laugh as the dragons danced above them, Sansa´s eyes sparked with joy. "Aemon Targaryen, the prince of Dragonstone and the heir to the Iron throne. I think I would like that."
Oberon shrieked in the sky and dived towards them. Landing in the foliage of the godswood, the destrier sized dragon shrieked again and walked over to Sansa, before resting its big pale green head in her lap.
Strange creatures, dragons, Bran thought as he watched Oberon nuzzle Sansa´s belly gently and let out a rumbling that sounded suspiciously like a purr. They liked Rickon, Shireen and Bran well enough, but they seemed to like it best when people that had been with them ever since they hatched the best. Especially Sansa.
For some reason, despite her complete lack of Targaryen blood, they seemed to gravitate towards her. Preferring her company to anyone else, except likely for Jon.
"Do you know if it is going to be a girl or a boy?" Sansa asked, still petting the smallest of the four dragons.
"No, I haven't gotten a vision." Bran shook his head, his exhaustion growing. "The future is difficult at the best of times, and it is getting even worse with the Others marching on the Wall." As Sansa nodded, her eyes firmly on the dragon in her lap, Bran found the words slipping out of his mouth. "Would you like me to try?"
"No." Sansa´s blue eyes were firm and for a moment she stopped petting Oberon, much to the dragon's irritation. "You are doing enough; you need your rest and should not have to listen to my worries."
Standing up, Sansa leaned forward and kissed the pale green dragon on the forehead, like it was a babe. "Go on then, you have a few hours to play."
Shaking his head, Oberon took back to the sky as Sansa turned to Bran. "Come on, we should get you inside, you need to warm up and eat something."
Bran sighed as Sansa called for Ser Brienne and Podrick to come over to them, the square, ever smiling and helpful, pushing Bran forward in his chair. As Sansa walked beside Bran, with her faithful knight ever beside her. "How are Shireen´s and Rickon´s lessons in the yard coming along, Ser Brienne?"
At Bran´s question, the knight walked a little taller than before. "Lord Stark is progressing well, I think that when he has grown into it, Oathkeeper will be wielded by a most worthy lord."
Bran smiled at her words, happy to hear how much Rickon was progressing in his arms training. "And lady Baratheon?"
"A credit to her house." Ser Brienne said a flush of pride in her voice. "She is much stronger than she looks, and not just in spirit."
Sansa let out a little giggle. "Yes, I thought that the guards from house Mormont that escorted lord Jeor to Winterfell, swooned when they saw her hit the training dummy and breaking her wooden sword in two."
Smiling Bran could not resist asking. "And lord Jeor? Did he swoon as well?"
"He was very impressed." Sansa tried to stifle a smile, yet her joy seemed too powerful to supress. "However, lord Jeor did not until he heard Shireen´s declaration that when she took up rule of Storm´s End there would be no need for a headman, for she intended to pass the sentence herself, just like her kingly cousin."
"Poor, lord Jeor." Bran shook his head. "He will have to fight through a herd of eligible Northmen when they find out. All of them trying to steal away his betrothed."
"Your grace." Whatever his sister had intended to say had to wait as a guard rushed to them. "Your grace, I am sorry to interrupt, however maester Wolkan asked me to find you."
"Is there something wrong?" Sansa asked, her hands discreetly moving closer to her still hidden bump.
"No, your grace. However, there was some luggage found." The guard looked uneasy as he addressed Bran´s sister. "Maester Wolkan believes that it belonged to late lord Baelish."
Sansa´s face was pale as she stared at the guard. "Has maester Wolkan gone through it?"
"No, your grace. The maester wanted you to know before doing anything."
"I will be right there." Sansa said before turning back to Bran. "I should go, Littlefinger might have something of importance in his luggage."
"Your grace." Ser Brienne frowned as she addressed Sansa. "Littlefinger is dead. How could he hurt you now?"
"I don't know." Sansa shook her head as she spoke. "Baelish might be dead and gone, yet he still has friends who are alive, one of whom is with Jon at this moment. Lyn Corbray was one of those friends, and in the unlikely event there is something hidden away with his belongings, I must find it."
As Sansa turned on her heel, Bran spoke. "Wait, Sansa. I will come along."
"You need to rest Bran."
"As do you. However, I am still coming with you, I might be able to help." Or offer you my support, went unsaid between the siblings.
Smiling at him, Sansa rolled her eyes and gestured for Podrick to help Bran into Sansa´s solar where she had the guard send Baelish´s belongings.
When they finally arrived at the solar that had once belonged to lord Eddard Stark, Sansa ordered refreshments brought to them and they started to search through the weasel´s belongings.
Sansa handed Bran a thick book, since he would have trouble searching the bags himself along with her, Ser Brienne and Podrick. So, instead Bran turned the pages of the book, staring at the numbers and words. At first Bran did not know what to make of what he was seeing. However, the more he read, the pieces of the puzzle and what he was reading started to become clear. "This is vile."
"What is it?" Sansa turned to look at him, a frown on her face as her hands stilled, half in the leather bag in her lap. "What does it say?"
"It is a ledger of sorts." Bran wanted to close it and throw it into the fire. "It details what lords and men of importance like which whores and what acts they like preformed for them."
The three other inhabitants of the room stared at him, with matching looks of disgust on their faces. "Are you sure my lord?" Podrick asked, his eyes wide.
Bran nodded. "A gilded cat like to degrade." Tracing the line with his index finger, Bran looked up from the blasted book and at his sister.
"A gilded cat?" Sansa asked, her brows furrowing. "Do you think he is talking about Tywin Lannister?"
"Well, he did die with a whore in his bed." Podrick offered. "And he would not be the first lord who is guilty of hypocrisy."
"How do you know that lord Tywin died with a whore in his bed?" Brienne asked, her bright eyes flashing.
"I heard it in an inn." Podrick explained, sending a pleading look Sansa´s way. "Apparently everyone in King´s Landing knows, despite Cersei Lannister trying to hide it." Bran could see the squire glance at the book, worry in his eyes.
Sansa let out a hiss of pain, putting a halt to their conversation as she quickly withdrew her hand from the bag in her lap.
"Are you injured my queen?" Brienne asked, ready to grab the bag and glaring at it as if it had personally offended her.
"I am fine." Sansa´s finger had been cut, bright red blood seeping from a slight wound. "It is nothing. But there is something here."
Reaching back into the bag, Sansa pulled something out of it with a gasp falling from her lips. In her hand was a beautiful dagger, its blade rippled steel that testified to its origin in Valyria and the hilt was black dragon bone.
"That is the catspaws dagger." Bran said, his eyes wide. He had never laid eyes on it in real life, only seen the vision where his mother had fought of the assassin like a true wolf, until Summer had saved them.
"The one that was used in your assassination attempt?" Sansa asked, holding the dagger away from her now as if it disgusted her.
"Yes. Can I?" Sansa handed him the dagger. The moment his fingers grasped it, Bran felt a strange shock run through him. "I need to go back to the Weirwood. I must look at something."
"Bran, you need to rest." Sansa reasoned. "You said so yourself, looking back so far as you have been doing takes a lot out of you and you have been in Valyria for days now, you must be exhausted."
"I must." Bran did not take his eyes off the blade in his hands.
"Lord Bran, do you think that it can help you find out the secret of how to make Valyrian steel?" Ser Brienne asked, still sitting on the floor.
"No. Oathkeeper did not help, so I doubt that the dagger will." As he turned the dagger in his hands, Bran stared at the blade with a frown. He knew that Joffrey Waters had been the one to order the catspaw to kill him and had given the assassin this dagger to use. Before that this dagger had been in the possession of Robert Baratheon, but where had it come from?
If house Baratheon possessed Valyrian steel, they would likely have boasted off it and made it known that they had even a dagger made of the precious metal.
And yet, so very few had known about the dagger.
Bran stared at the dagger in his hands, turning it to see it from every angle. "I need to know more about it." Bran said finally, looking at Sansa, who looked more worried than before. "I feel that this is important."
"Can it not wait until tomorrow, when you have rested?"
"I do not think that I will rest until I have some answers."
At his answer, Sansa sighed and nodded. "Just be careful and if you are too tried, then you need to rest. I don't want to lose you."
"I will be careful, I promise." Bran offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I would not do this right now, if I did not think that it was important."