Chapter 2:
The crackling fire was the only sound in the small room, its light casting flickering shadows on the cold stone walls. Jon Snow sat alone, his back to the door, staring into the flames as if seeking answers that would never come. His life had taken him from the Wall to the throne room of Kings and Queens, but now, he had retreated to the wilderness, to the shadows where no one sought him—no one except for Tyrion Lannister.
The door creaked open, and Tyrion stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. His footsteps echoed lightly as he approached Jon, taking in the sight of the man who had once been King in the North, now reduced to a life of quiet exile. Tyrion's clothing was plain, worn from travel, a far cry from the finery he once donned as Hand of the Queen. But the sharpness in his eyes remained.
Tyrion cleared his throat and settled into a chair across from Jon. He studied him for a long moment, and when Jon finally turned his gaze from the fire to meet Tyrion's, his expression was tired but wary.
Jon greeted him in a low voice. - "What brings you here?"
Tyrion folded his hands in front of him, sighing slightly. - "I wish I could say it was a social visit. But no, it's business. Desperate business, as always."
Jon's brow furrowed, his lips set in a hard line. - "What do you want?"
Tyrion leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. - "There's something out there that could change everything… something that could stop Daenerys once and for all."
Jon's eyes narrowed. - "Stop Daenerys?" - Jon leaned back in his chair, a skeptical look in his eyes. - "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
Tyrion took a deep breath. - "The Dragonbinder…" - Tyrion said quietly, his voice heavy with meaning. - "An ancient horn, forged in Old Valyria. It's said to have the power to bend a dragon's will to the one who blows it."
Jon snorted, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. - "That's the sort of the thing I could hear from my old Nan. Not from you."
"I have good information regarding its whereabouts."- Tyrion countered. - "I've spent the last few years chasing that myth. I've spoken to people, Jon… people who claim to have seen it. It's real. And it's our best chance of taking control of Drogon."
Jon's expression darkened. - "From whom? A drunken pirate? A fucking whore? You're more of a fool than I ever expected. You're actually saying you have good information about a horn which can bind a dragon to the owner of the horn? By the old gods, I swear if I didn't know you better, I was talking to a fool."
Tyrion leaned in closer, his voice growing more urgent. - "Euron Greyjoy had it."
Jon leaned in closer as well. - "If he did, then why didn't he use it?"
"Well he did tried but he couldn't."
"Why?"
"One of his servants tried to blow the horn but he died trying. His lips were scorched."
Jon leaned back, sceptical. - "And?"
"This means not everyone can blow the horn. I went to the Citadel and there I was able to gather further information about the horn and in some books, there are stories about other men trying to blow the horn and the same thing happen which means not everyone can blow that horn. My guess is, it has to be someone, a descendant from Ancient Valyria. In this case, meaning you. You know what Daenerys did to King's Landing. If Drogon isn't stopped, the devastation could go on. There are still people out there who would rally around him, who would carry out her vision. This isn't just about ending Daenerys' reign… it's about ensuring no one like her ever rises again."
Jon's gaze dropped, his jaw clenched as the memory of the charred ruins of King's Landing flashed in his mind. The lives lost, the destruction caused by the dragon's fire, all at the command of the woman he once loved. But still, he shook his head.
"I'm done with all of it." - Jon said, his voice hard. - "The wars, the killing. It doesn't matter who wields the power, whether it's a Targaryen, a Lannister, or some other fool who thinks they can rule the world. In the end, it's all the same. More death, more destruction."
Tyrion looked at Jon with something like desperation in his eyes. - "But you can make it different, Jon. You don't crave power, and that's why you're the one who has to do this. Not for power, but for the people. To protect them from more suffering."
Jon stood abruptly, turning his back to Tyrion and pacing the small room. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling to the surface. - "You want me to go on a fool's quest, risking lives for some mythical horn. And even if we find it, then what? We take Drogon from Daenerys and stop her and then, maybe after that, someone will carve a knife on my back and the cycle starts again. Someone else will rise up, claiming their right to rule with fire and blood."
Desperately Tyrion ran also to the exit, out running Jon, standing then, between the exit and Jon, waving both hands. – "Please Jon, let me finish. I'll pay with a generous good offer, gold… everybody knows, even you, a Lannister always pays..."
"Don't fucking say it." - Jon turned sharply, his face grim. - "I've had enough of fighting other people's wars. I've done my duty, Tyrion. I've lost too much… too many lives, too many people I cared about. I'm not doing this again."
"Love is the death of duty." – Tyrion proclaimed.
Jon looked at him for a long moment, his heart heavy. He understood the gravity of what Tyrion was asking, the danger that Drogon posed. But he also knew the cost of continuing down this path. He had been through too much, seen too much. The weight of it was unbearable.
"No." - Jon said quietly but firmly. - "I won't do it."- Jon repeated, his voice rising with finality. - "I've done my part. Let someone else carry the burden now."
Tyrion's expression hardened, his desperation turning to frustration. - "And what if that someone else isn't capable of doing what needs to be done? What about Sansa?"
Jon's face hardened. - "Five years ago, I saved you from execution in a miraculous escape from King's landing but because of it, I lost Sansa, Bran and Winterfell to the fire. I'm starting to regret the decision." - With that, Jon walked by Tyrion, pushing him aside. Tyrion watched him go, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He had come all this way, hoping to find the man who had once saved Westeros from the Long Night. But the man standing before him was tired, broken…no longer the hero Tyrion needed.
"Where will you go?" - Tyrion asked quietly as Jon reached the door.
Jon paused, his hand resting on the wooden frame. He didn't turn back, his voice distant. - "As far away from all of this as I can."
And with that, Jon left the room, leaving Tyrion alone by the fire, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders once again.
The door to the tavern creaked open, and Jon stepped out into the cool night air. He had left Tyrion sitting inside, his wine untouched and his plea unanswered. He could still feel the weight of the conversation lingering, an unwelcome pressure on his chest. His brow furrowed as he looked up at the dark sky, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him like ghosts.
Just as he took a deep breath, a familiar voice broke the silence. - "You said no, didn't you?"
Jon turned sharply to find Arya waiting for him by the tavern's side, leaning casually against the stone wall. She stepped forward, the dim light of the tavern's glow casting long shadows over her face. Jon sighed, not entirely surprised.
"You heard everything, didn't you?" - Jon asked, his voice more tired than accusatory.
Arya shrugged, walking over to stand beside him. - "Old habits..."
They started walking together, their boots crunching over the dirt road leading back into the cover of the forest. The air was cool and smelled of pine and earth, the kind of night that usually brought Jon a sense of peace. But that night, the tension from his conversation with Tyrion gnawed at him.
Arya nodded. - "Tyrion's plan to find a dragon horn? Not exactly a quiet conversation."
Jon exhaled heavily, shaking his head. - "It's madness. A horn that can control dragons? It's nothing more than a legend, Arya. We've seen what chasing after those kinds of things leads to. It's not worth the risk."
Arya remained quiet for a moment, her eyes forward as they moved deeper into the woods. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost cautious. - "What if it's not just a legend?"
Jon looked over at her, somewhat surprised by the seriousness in her tone. - "You think it's real?"
"I don't care if it's real or not." - Arya replied, her voice hardening. - "What matters is that Daenerys is still out there and we keep hiding. We need to do something."
Jon's jaw clenched at the mention of Daenerys. It had been hard enough leaving her behind, watching her burn King's Landing to the ground, and then... doing what he had to do. He had loved her once, but that love had turned to ashes in his mouth.
"She doesn't even know we're here." - Jon said, though even he didn't sound convinced.
Arya scoffed, her pace quickening slightly. - "You think that'll last? She has Drogon, Jon. It won't take much for her to find us. And when she does, she'll burn this entire forest to the ground. Everything we've tried to build here, gone."
Jon's mind was racing. He knew Arya was right. Daenerys was relentless when she felt threatened, and she still had a dragon at her command. It was only a matter of time before she found them.
Arya stopped walking, grabbing Jon's arm to force him to stop as well. She looked up at him, her eyes fierce and determined. - "You know what she's capable of. We can't just sit here and wait for her to come to us."
Jon frowned, pulling his arm away gently. - "I'm not chasing after a myth, Arya. I've had enough of that. We're better off staying hidden, keeping the Brotherhood safe."
Arya's expression darkened. - "And what happens when she does find us? What then? You think we can fight her and Drogon? We barely have enough men to fend off bandits. If she finds us, she'll burn everything and everyone."
Jon's stomach twisted at the thought. He had seen what Drogon could do, the destruction the dragon left in its wake. He had witnessed the fires of King's Landing firsthand, and the thought of that same fire consuming the forest and the Brotherhood's refuge filled him with dread.
"Arya…" Jon began, but she cut him off.
"NO Jon! Now you listen. I don't want to be here until the day I die. I want to see the world out there and yet I'm still here, stuck in this shithole, helping you…" - Arya said, her voice cold and resolute. - " I know you love her and that's why I haven't kill her yet. If I killed the entire Frey family, the Night King, killing a Taryargen is hardly a problem, with or without a dragon."
Jon's heart sank. He knew Arya meant every word. She had become ruthless in her survival, shaped by years of loss and war. If Daenerys came after them, Arya wouldn't hesitate to strike first, no matter how much it pained her or Jon.
"You don't have to do that." - Jon said softly, trying to appeal to the part of Arya that was still his sister, the part of her that hadn't been hardened by the world.
But Arya shook her head. - "Yes, I do. If Daenerys finds us, I'll kill her. And I won't lose any sleep over it."
Jon's chest tightened. He wanted to argue, to tell her that things didn't have to be that way, but he knew the truth. Arya had already made her decision, and in her eyes, it was the only one that made sense.
"I don't want it to come to that." - Jon said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. - "I never wanted any of this."
Arya's expression softened slightly, but the steel in her voice remained. - "None of us did, Jon. But it's the world we live in now. You taught me that."
Jon looked down, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He had tried to escape the cycle of violence and bloodshed, but it seemed no matter where he went, it followed him. Maybe Arya was right. Maybe the only way to protect the people he cared about was to stop Daenerys before she found them. But the thought of going after her, of ending her life, filled him with a deep, gnawing pain.
"I won't stand in your way, Arya." - Jon said finally, his voice hoarse. - "But I can't be the one to do it."
Arya studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, her face hardening once more. - "I'll do what I have to, Jon. Just make sure you're ready when the time comes."
Without another word, Arya turned and disappeared into the trees, her form quickly swallowed by the darkness. Jon stood there for a moment, his heart heavy with the burden of choices he had hoped never to face again.
No words were spoken when they climbed their horses and resumed their trip back to the headquarters of the Brotherhood: As the night deepened around him, Jon knew one thing for certain: there was no escaping the fire. And one way or another, it would find them.
The night had deepened by the time both Jon and Arya reached the makeshift headquarters of the Brotherhood. The familiar sight of the ramshackle camp, nestled deep in the forest and hidden from the eyes of those who would seek to destroy them, did little to comfort him. Arya soon parted ways and Jon walked slowly toward the improvised stable, where a few horses nickered quietly in their stalls. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting faint shadows across the ground. It was peaceful here, but the peace felt fragile, like a glass that could shatter with the slightest touch.
The following morning, Jon stood there, brooding, lost in thought. His conversation with Arya had left him feeling torn, and Tyrion's words still echoed in his mind. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. Leading the Brotherhood had given him a purpose, but now it seemed even that was slipping through his fingers.
The sound of heavy footsteps crunching over the forest floor pulled him from his thoughts. Jon turned, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. From the shadows emerged a towering figure: The Hound, his hulking form unmistakable even in the dim light. He walked with his usual swagger, his scarred face twisted into what might have been a smirk.
"Brooding again, Snow?" - Sandor Clegane growled as he came to a stop beside Jon, his arms crossed over his chest. - "You're always brooding. Can't help but wonder if that's all you know how to do."
Jon let out a weary sigh. He wasn't in the mood for The Hound's barbs tonight. - "What do you want, Sandor?"
The Hound shrugged, the movement making his armor clank slightly. - "Just came to see how the great hero of the North was getting on after turning down Tyrion's little offer."
Jon frowned, caught off guard. - "Arya told you about that already?"
The Hound snorted. - "You think secrets stay hidden around here? Word travels fast, especially when it's something as stupid as turning down gold and a chance to do something about the dragon bitch."
Jon clenched his jaw, trying to rein in his frustration. He had hoped for some solitude, but it seemed even in the forest, there was no escaping the opinions of others. - "It's not that simple."
"Of course, it isn't." - The Hound grumbled, pulling a flask from his belt and taking a long swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. - "You never do anything simple, do you?"
Jon turned away, staring back at the horses in their stalls. - "Chasing after a dragon horn? It's madness. We don't even know if it exists, and even if it did, using it to control Drogon… that's not something I want."
The Hound rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. - "Oh, woe is you, Snow. The noble man who doesn't want power or gold, but still keeps finding himself in the thick of it. Spare me."
Jon shot him a look, his patience thinning. - "What's your point?"
"My point." The Hound said, stepping closer, his voice lowering into a growl. - "You remind me the stable boy. When the stable boy cleans the shitter, no one congratulates him or thanks him, because he smells too much like shit and sweat for all his hard work. You think you've done your job? Congratulations, you've been banished from the shitter, come back when it's dirty again... Won't be long now." – Hound gave Jon a pitchfork.
"I don't want to fight her," Jon said quietly.
The Hound snorted again. - "When it comes to that silver haired bitch, you've always been a cunt. She'll come for you, whether you want her to or not. And when she does, she won't be alone. She's got that bloody dragon with her. Stop thinking with your cock and start thinking with that stubborn head of yours."
Jon looked away, his hands gripping the edge of the wooden fence in front of the stable. He knew The Hound was right, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. He didn't want to fight Daenerys. He didn't want to be dragged back into that world of fire and blood.
"At least do it for the gold." The Hound continued, his voice hard and practical. - "You know the saying, a Lannister always pays his debts. And believe me, Tyrion will pay well for this. We could use that gold to stock up on weapons, food, maybe even find a better place to hide."
Jon shook his head. - "It's not about the gold."
"Of course it's not." - The Hound said with a roll of his eyes. - "You're too bloody noble for that. But think about the others, Snow. We need that gold. We need something to fight for."
Jon let out a long breath. He knew the Brotherhood was struggling. They barely had enough supplies to keep everyone fed and armed, and winter was creeping in faster than any of them had anticipated. Tyrion's offer could change all that, give them the means to survive, maybe even thrive for a little longer. But the idea of chasing after the Dragonbinder, it felt like a dangerous gamble, one he wasn't sure they could afford.
"I just don't know if it's worth the risk." - Jon said, his voice strained. - "And if we fail…"
The Hound barked out a laugh, cutting him off. - "You're always thinking about failure. You did enough of that up North, didn't you? And yet here you are, still alive, still kicking. Maybe it's time you stopped worrying about what could go fucking wrong and started thinking about what happens if you fucking win."
Jon glanced at him, caught off guard by the sharpness of his words. The Hound was many things, brutal, cynical, and always ready for a fight but he had a way of cutting to the heart of things. And maybe, just maybe, he was right.
"Look…" - The Hound continued; his tone slightly softer now. - "At least if you're not doing this for yourself, do it for them." - He gestured toward the camp, where the others were huddled around fires, tending to their weapons, their wounds, and their dwindling supplies. - "If you don't do something, they'll be the ones who pay the price when Daenerys finally comes knocking."
Jon stared out at the camp, his heart heavy with the weight of leadership. He had taken on this role reluctantly, but now, these people were his responsibility. They looked to him for guidance, for protection. If they were going to survive, he couldn't keep running from the fight.
"Think about it, Snow," - The Hound said as he turned to leave, his voice gruff but not unkind. - "You're already in this. Might as well make sure you don't end up burnt to a crisp when that bitch queen finally comes looking for you."
Jon didn't respond, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The Hound walked off into the shadows, leaving Jon alone once more with his troubled thoughts.
Jon's gaze drifted toward the forest, his hands still clenched on the fence. He didn't want to go after the Dragonbinder, didn't want to be pulled back into the chaos of power and thrones. But as much as he wanted to avoid it, he couldn't deny the truth.
The fire was coming, whether he wanted it or not.
Jon sat on an old, weathered stump near the outskirts of the Brotherhood's hidden camp. The forest was quiet tonight, the soft rustling of the wind through the trees offering a temporary reprieve from the thoughts swirling in his mind. He held a half-empty flask in his hands, rolling it back and forth between his fingers as he stared into the distance.
Nearby, Davos Seaworth was tending to a small fire, stirring a pot of something that had begun to emit a savory scent. Jon watched him for a moment, appreciating the simplicity of the scene. Davos had always been a steadying presence in his life, a man whose wisdom came not from birthright or education but from experience, from hardship, and from surviving in a world that had tried to kill him more times than either of them could count.
"Davos…" - Jon called out quietly.
The older man glanced up from his cooking, his expression one of quiet curiosity. - "Aye, Jon?" - he responded, setting the ladle aside and moving closer to sit beside Jon on a log.
Jon hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase the question that had been plaguing him all night. - "By now, you probably know about the horn." – Danos simply nodded, affirmatively. - "What do you think of Tyrion's plan?" Jon asked finally, his voice low.
Davos raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the log as he considered the question. He scratched his beard thoughtfully before speaking. - "You want my honest opinion?"
Jon nodded, not expecting anything less from Davos. He had always valued his honesty, even when it was difficult to hear.
"It's risky." - Davos said, his tone measured. - "Chasing after a Dragonbinder? It's like looking for the gods in the sky. Could be there, could be nothing but wind. But then again…"
"But then again?" - Jon prompted, sensing that there was more on Davos' mind.
Davos sighed deeply, his expression growing more serious. - "Daenerys won't leave us alone forever, Jon. You know that as well as I do. Right now, we're safe because we're small, hidden, and not causing her any trouble. Maybe she does still care for you, somewhere deep down, even after everything that happened. But that won't last. Sooner or later, she'll remember what you did. She'll remember who you are, the man with the higher claim and what you are to her… the man who betrayed her."
Jon winced at the word "betrayal," the memory of that terrible day in the throne room rising unbidden in his mind. He had betrayed her to save Tyrion but the cost had been far higher than he could have imagined: Bran paid for it, Sansa and Winterfell paid for it. And even then, it seemed, that cost had not yet been fully paid.
Davos continued; his voice heavy with experience. - "She burned King's Landing to the ground, Jon, Same with Winterfell… Thousands of dead Innocent people, men, women, children. And she did it with barely a thought. It's only a matter of time before she turns her attention to us, and when she does, she won't hold back."
Jon clenched his fists, feeling the weight of Davos' words pressing down on him. He had feared this, dreaded the day when Daenerys would turn her wrath upon the Brotherhood and the small pocket of peace they had carved out for themselves. It seemed inevitable now, like the tides that Davos knew so well, unstoppable and unforgiving.
"Maybe you're right." - Jon muttered. - "Maybe she hasn't come for us yet because she knows I'm here. Maybe… and maybe she still cares for me."
Davos looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and skepticism. - "Perhaps…" - he said gently. - "… but that care, if it's there, won't save us when the time comes. Not for long, anyway. She'll burn this entire forest down, Jon, just as she did King's Landing. Maybe she's waiting for the right moment, or maybe she's hoping you'll come back to her. Anyway… one day, she'll stop waiting."
Jon stared down at the ground, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face. He had known this truth deep down, had seen it in Daenerys' eyes during their last encounter. She was a force of nature, a storm waiting to be unleashed. And no amount of love or regret would stop her once she decided to act.
"So, you think I should go after the horn?" - Jon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Davos was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady as he considered the question. - "It's a gamble." - he admitted. - "But what other choice do we have? If this Dragonbinder exists, if it can give us control of her last dragon… then maybe we have a chance. Maybe we can stop her before she destroys everything."
"And if it doesn't exist?" - Jon asked bitterly. - "What if it's just a fool's errand, chasing after some ancient myth?"
Davos smiled faintly, a glimmer of his old sea-worn humor returning. - "Then at least we'll have the gold. And that's no small thing, Jon. Gold can buy us supplies, weapons, a new place to hide if this one gets too dangerous. Hell, maybe even a few ships to take us somewhere far from her reach, across the narrow sea."
Jon sighed, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. Davos had a way of making even the bleakest situations seem a little more manageable. It wasn't about hope, not really. It was about survival, about taking whatever chances they had left and making the best of them.
"But you're right to be cautious." Davos added, his tone more serious now. - "This quest for the Dragonbinder, it could lead to nothing. It could cost us more than we can afford. But sitting here, waiting for Daenerys to come and rain fire on our heads, that's not a future I want to see."
Jon nodded slowly, digesting Davos' words. He felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him, the responsibility he bore not just for himself but for all those who had chosen to follow him. The Brotherhood was a ragtag group, but they looked to him for leadership, for protection. He couldn't afford to make the wrong choice, but neither could he afford to do nothing.
"I'll think on it." - Jon said finally, his voice tired but resolute.
Davos nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. - "That's all anyone can ask of you, Jon. Just remember, whatever you decide, you won't be facing it alone. We're with you, no matter what comes."
Jon offered a faint smile, grateful for Davos' unwavering loyalty. The older man had been through so much, lost so much and yet he continued to stand by Jon's side. It was a comfort, knowing that no matter what happened, there were still people in the world who believed in him, who were willing to fight for him.
"Thank you, Davos." - Jon said quietly.
Davos gave him a nod, then stood up, stretching his limbs as he prepared to head back to the campfire. - "Get some rest, lad." - he said with a small smile. - "Tomorrow's another day and I have a feeling we'll need all the strength we can get."
Jon watched him go, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow on Davos' retreating figure. He stayed by the stable for a while longer, staring into the night, listening to the quiet rustle of the forest around him. His decision wasn't any clearer, but at least he wasn't as alone as he sometimes felt.
Whatever the future held—whether it was dragons, fire, or something even worse—Jon knew he would face it, and he would face it with those he trusted by his side. Even if it meant chasing after a legend, even if it meant going against everything he thought he knew.
At least, with the Brotherhood behind him, he wouldn't be facing it alone.
Jon stood at the edge of the small clearing that served as the Brotherhood's makeshift headquarters. The firelight flickered and danced in the shadows of the surrounding trees, casting long, wavering shadows across the faces of those gathered around the flame. Arya, Davos, Tormund, and the Hound had all taken their places near the center of the clearing, waiting for Jon to speak.
He glanced at each of them in turn, his mind still heavy with the decision he'd come to. It wasn't an easy choice, none of it ever was but he had finally reached a conclusion. Whether it was the right one, only time would tell.
The tension in the air was palpable. They could all sense that something important was about to happen. Even Tormund, usually so full of life and loud laughter, was unusually quiet, his blue eyes fixed on Jon with a seriousness that Jon rarely saw from the wildling.
Jon took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he finally spoke. - "I've decided." - he began, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the moment. - "We're going to take Tyrion's offer."
A ripple of surprise ran through the group. The Hound's expression remained unreadable, though his lips twitched into what could have been the faintest hint of approval. Arya folded her arms across her chest, her sharp eyes watching Jon carefully, waiting to hear his full reasoning. Davos, always the pragmatist, simply nodded, and Tormund scratched his beard, a half-smile tugging at his lips.
"We're going after the Dragonbinder." - Jon continued. - "Tyrion believes this horn has the power to control Daenerys' last dragon. If we can find it… maybe we have a chance to stop her."
There was a moment of silence as the weight of his words settled over the group. Finally, Tormund broke the quiet, letting out a low chuckle. - "A dragon horn, eh?" he said, grinning. -"Sounds like the kind of madness I'd expect from a Lannister."
"Aye, and you don't seem to mind madness, do you?" - the Hound grumbled, his gravelly voice laced with sarcasm.
Tormund shrugged, his grin widening. - "Never said I did."
Davos, always the voice of reason, cleared his throat and leaned forward. - "It's a risky venture, Jon. We're chasing after something that may not even exist. But if there's even a chance that we could find this Dragonbinder… it might be worth the risk."
"I know." - Jon agreed, his voice low. - "But doing nothing isn't an option. Daenerys is out there. And it's only a matter of time before she turns her eyes on us. We can't keep hiding in these woods forever. Sooner or later, she'll come for us."
Arya spoke next, her voice sharp and precise. - "We've got to be the ones who strike first, Jon. If we sit here and wait, she'll burn the whole forest down. We've seen what she's capable of. We can't let that happen again."
Jon nodded, his heart heavy with the memories of King's Landing, the fire, the screams, the devastation. He had tried to avoid another war, another bloodshed, but now it seemed that the fight had come to him, whether he wanted it or not. And with Arya, Davos, and the others behind him, he knew what had to be done.
"We send a raven to Hot Pie." - Jon announced, his gaze steady. - "Tell him we'll join his cause. We'll start the search for the Dragonbinder."
The Hound snorted, crossing his arms. - "At least we'll be paid well enough for this fool's errand. A Lannister always pays his debts, after all."
Tormund let out a hearty laugh. - "Fuck the gold. As long as there's plenty of fucking and drinking along the way, I'll be happy."
"Prepare for disappointment." – The Hound grunted.
Jon smiled faintly at Tormund's optimism, though the weight of the task ahead still pressed heavily on his shoulders. - "This isn't just about the gold." - Jon reminded them. - "If we find this horn, we may have the only weapon that can stop Daenerys. But even if we don't find it, we'll have the resources to rebuild, to start somewhere new."
Davos nodded. - "We'll need every bit of gold we can get. Supplies, weapons, provisions, everything. We've been scraping by for too long. If this fails, at least we'll have the means to survive. Maybe even buy passage out of Westeros if it comes to that."
Arya shifted beside him; her eyes sharp as ever. - "But we'll find it." - she said, her voice full of quiet determination. - "We have to."
Jon met her gaze, feeling the conviction in her words resonate within him. Arya had always been the fighter, the one who never backed down from a challenge. It gave him strength, knowing she was with him in this.
"All right, then." - Jon said, standing up straighter. - "We move forward. From here on out, we're on the hunt for the Dragonbinder."
Davos got to his feet, ready to act. - "I'll see to it." he said, heading toward one of the tents where they kept their ravens.
As the group began to disperse, Jon remained by the fire for a moment longer, watching the flames dance and flicker. The path ahead was uncertain, and the risks were high. But at least now, he had a plan, a direction to follow. And with Arya, Davos, Tormund, and the Hound by his side, he knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.
With a final glance at the dying fire, Jon turned and walked back toward the camp, ready to lead his people into whatever came next.
To be continued…