Summary:
The White Wolf is dead. The She-Wolf is No One. The Dragon Queen is gone. Meereen is in chaos. The Lion tangles with the Rose. The Sparrows run amok. The Flayed Man waits.
A Rewrite of the Show, Season 6 onward, that takes from the books.
"'No man dies with dignity, it seems,' Edd muttered. As if he was seconding it, Ghost let out a bone-chilling, stomach-curling howl. Davos knew animals could feel loss, had seen it in a dog he had befriended as a boy. But this, this was something else entirely."
Notes:
Every day I grow older, every date I hateGame of Thronesa little bit more.
I started rewatching the show again with my family, mostly to show them Lindsay Ellis' criticisms of the later seasons once we get through the horrors of Seasons 7 and 8.
But as I'm sitting there, rewatching the best seasons (1-4), I realize how bad Season 6 also is. Like it's not half as bad as Seasons 7 or 8, but it's bad. I mean Jon turns total stupid, Sansa turns total bitch, Davos is just there for some reason, Daenerys just poofs into being a bad bitch AND GETS A DOTHRAKI HORDE TO INVADE WESTEROS, Tyrion is stupid, Varys is useless, Cersei nukes King's Landing, the Tyrells poof out of existence, Dorne is a shitshow, and Euron just... exists. All of the problems with S78 can be traced back to the shit setup of Season 6. Don't get me wrong, I love the way it ended – Cersei on the Throne, Jon as KitN, Dany getting her dragons to heel. I do hate that the Tyrells just went poof, that Doran Martell just... sits there?
Also the tactics of Season 6 are shit. They're just shit. Not as bad as Seasons 7 and 8, but pretty fucking shit.
I've always felt that if you're going to rewrite Season 8, you can't just rewrite Season 8. Or even Season 7. Don't get me wrong, I love me some S7 and 8 rewrites, but they are being written on poor foundations.
I've read one or two Season 6 rewrites, yet they seem to follow the Season 6 plotline but written better. Which is nice, don't get me wrong, I just don't like the Season 6 plotline. The problem is that I do like where the big 3 characters end up at by the end of season 6. And that's a place of power, arguably when they are most powerful. Which is an issue. Game of Thrones doesn't work by leaving you on a high note, and by dragging my characters to where they are most powerful, not only do I ensure that they can't be any stronger, I also feel like I'm Mary Sueing them to an extent.
Which is why I am now deciding, and I probably won't finish so don't sue me, to rewrite the plot of Season 6 too. You'll find similar endings, of course, to the OG, but they won't feel the same, hopefully.
Finally, before I start, I am going to be taking more from the books without having read them. Which is common practice in our fandom, I know, but just warning you all. Some characterizations might be modified a bit, though I am mostly just stealing characters, some plot threads, and magic elements. Game of Thrones felt MASSIVE and, yes, a bit bloated from S3-5. But there's a reason those were some of the best seasons, when there were so many pieces moving, your heart was racing, and nothing was assured.
Hopefully I can catch some of that magic here.
Enjoy.
(See the end of the work formore notes.)
Chapter 1: Davos I (pilot)
Chapter Text
DAVOS
The wolf had never howled like this before. He had been going on for the past quarter-hour, howling and whimpering at the moon or some other fancy. An odd outburst, for Ser Davos hadn't heard the wolf howl much before tonight. In fact, thinking about it, Ser Davos wasn't sure he had ever heard the wolf do anything more than pant.
Which meant, in his learned opinion, something was wrong. With a decent amount of prescience, Davos grabbed his sword and barged out the room, headlong into the icy air around Castle Black. The King's Tower was far enough of a walk from the Lord Commander's office that he probably should have taken a cloak with him. Davos was starting to get used to the cold, but only starting. He still shivered, ice shooting up his veins with ever cold wind.
Davos made his way to Jon Snow's office. Yet, once he got to the door, he paused. If the Lord Commander's wolf was acting up, why would Ser Davos be the first to notice? Or was it that the wolf noticed something first?
Davos unsheathed his blade and knocked. "Lord Commander?"
The heavy wooden door cracked open. Eddison Tollett's head poked through. "What's it to you?"
"He's dead, isn't he?"
Tollett only glared. "How would you know?"
"The wolf, your reactions." When the brother refused to lessen his glare, Davos sighed. "I know you don't have much reason to trust me."
"I don't."
"But I'm not here to betray you."
"Then why are you here?"
"I-" whywashe here? With Stannis dead, and even though it seemed like there was no other alternative than being at Castle Black, Davos could easily have stayed out of this. He could walk away right now, not get involved between whoever had killed the Lord Commander and whoever was still loyal to him.
It wouldn't be the right thing to do, however. And Davos liked to think of himself as a man who did the right thing. "I'm here," Davos replied, straightening himself, "because Jon Snow was a good man."
"Aye, he was." Tollett opened the door all the way. Davos didn't remember the names of the four other boys sitting in the room, but he did recognize the body of the boy – because he was just that, they all were boys – lying on his back on the table. "Wait here, I'll fetch Ghost," he heard Tollett say as the room shut behind him.
Davos approached the dead body as if it were Stannis himself. Given the way the boy and the man had acted since Davos had come North, it might have been. Jon Snow had slowly been taking on the duty-bound, get-your-hands-dirty attitude Davos had always admired in Stannis. He supposed that was another reason why he was here. Stannis himself had liked Jon Snow, had offered to make him his Warden of the North. In some small, weird way, Jon Snow had been given Stannis' stamp of approval. An heir, Davos might say, not in name but in manner.
Now the boy and the man were both gone. Stannis to some frozen battlefield outside of Winterfell, Jon Snow to the frozen confines of Castle Black, on the table in front of Davos. He was laid out on the table. His black tunic was stained with blood so red it looked black, but in the right hint of the firelight, it was a strong crimson. The Lord Commander's pale face looked almost gaunt, which, well, he was dead. But the gaunt look wasn't from death. "He was betrayed," Davos muttered, turning away from the closed eyes.
"Of course he was betrayed, old man. His own brothers killed him," one of the Night's Watchmen spat. Davos didn't take it personally. He knew grief well enough to not.
"No, I mean the look on his face."
The four other members of the room peered over the dead body. "You're right," a ginger murmured. "He looks shocked."
"Do you know who did this?"
The tall, lanky one who had spat at Davos nodded. "My money's on Thorne."
"Dumb bastard," the ginger snarled. "Does he have no clue what's coming for him?"
"He weren'tatHardhome," a boy sitting in the corner said. "None of them officers were. They dudn'tknow."
Davos didn'tknoweither, but he had heard and he had listened. Some men make up tall tales. Five-thousand wildlings and fifty Night's Watchmen all saying the same thing didn't. Something evil was waiting for them on the other side of the Wall. Thorne was too blinded by his hatred to see.
Outside, steel began to sing as the wolf stopped howling. The room fell silent to listen. A sickening snarl ended the quick song.
"That'll be Edd and the wolf," the lanky one snorted. "Hope it was Thorne."
Davos doubted it was, but said nothing. The door opened with an "it's Edd." The brother walked in, red blood on his sword. Davos wanted to ask whose blood was on his blade and why it was spilled, but he was cut off by Tollett. "I got the wolf."
Indeed he had. Ghost slinked in, making not a sound, a terrifying, bloody snarl on his face. The wolf was almost up to Davos' chest and the blood dripping from his fangs did little to make him feel cute and cuddly. The wolf, quiet as his namesake, padded over to his companion. He sniffed at his feet, sniffed up his leg, sniffed up to his head. It was only then that Davos finally smelled that terrible, familiar scent of death. Shit and piss.
"No man dies with dignity, it seems," Tollett muttered. As if he was seconding it, Ghost let out a bone-chilling, stomach-curling howl. Davos knew animals could feel loss, had seen it in a dog he had befriended as a boy. But this, this was something else entirely. The howl mixed with whimpers and growls, a whine and a snarl, taking all of the beast's emotions of grief and pouring it into one truly awesome, sad sound.
When it finally, thankfully stopped, Davos felt tears in his eyes. The animal in front of him was a killer, a predator unmatched in the world, but Davos sympathized with it. He knew the pain of losing someone so close to you you had been unable to imagine life without him.
The wolf turned to the door and barked. The first time Davos had heard the creature do such a mundane, dog-like thing. Davos picked up his blade, the rest of the room doing the same, and came to face the five Night's Watchmen who were standing in the doorway.
"The Lord Commander!" They looked like they wanted to rush into the room, but Ghost was keeping them at bay. The wolf stared down the five men, daring them to move. He scanned them, trying to find any danger. Eventually, he seemed to accept them and stepped back. With a second glance at each other, the men entered. Davos stepped past them to look out onto the yard of Castle Black. There, below him, were two red stains on the white snow. One was just that, a red stain, the body behind Davos now. The other was new, presumably the man Ghost and Edd had just killed.
"We'll kill him, I swear it. Let's go. Anyone who fails to pledge sufficient loyalty to Jon is going to die. And then we'll sic Ghost on Thorne. See how the mean fucker likes that."
Eddison stormed to the door, sword in hand, eyes blazing with a fury that Stannis had never had. Davos admired the man for his loyalty. If he was being honest, and Davos liked to think of himself as an honest man, he saw himself in Edd. A loyal friend, an advisor, a man with no one to serve any more. But Davos stepped in front of the door. He would not let Tollett make this mistake.
"What are you doing old man?"
"How many men do you have?"
Edd rolled his eyes, but obliged. "Ten. Maybe a dozen more outside the walls."
"And how many men are at Castle Black?"
"A little less than a hundred."
"You're rushing to your deaths."
Edd stepped forward and held his sword out. "Aye, we are. Are you going to stop us?"
"I'm going to stop you from dying, yes." Davos didn't fear this man, he didn't need to fear grief any more. He was getting too used to it.
"If you're so afraid of death, old man, I suggest you leave this room. Thorne killed my Lord Commander. Hebutcheredmy friend."
"And Thorne has to die." Davos stepped forward against the blade. "But you don't. You have far more than a hundred men in the Gift. Men who owe theirlivesto Jon Snow."
For the first time tonight – mayhaps for the first time since Davos had known him – Eddison Tollet smiled. It was a cruel smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Aye. You're right. Tormund'll have Thorne's head for this."
Davos nodded at the brother. "As for the rest of you," he began, looking over the ten boys and the wolf and the dead body, "let's take the Lord Commander's body up to the King's Tower. There's no escape, but if Eddison can be back in an hour, we won't need to."
"He's right," the lanky one said. "Myke, Dantis, grab some bows and arrows. Meet us up there. The rest of you, let's go."
The ginger and the corner one left to their duty, the other seven helped pick up the Lord Commander. Davos grabbed the Lord Commander's Valyrian Steel sword,Longclaw. The black, beady eyes of the wolf on the pommel stared up at him, begging to be fed blood. Ser Davos stared away, not quite sure how a carved sword handle managed to appear so bloodthirsty.
Outside of the Lord Commander's office, Davos stared at something else. The Lady Melisandre, seated in Stannis' room at the top of the King's Tower, stared down at the yard, not an emotion betrayed on her face, the fire flickering behind her. As if he could feel her next move, Davos tore his eyes away from the witch and followed the black brothers.