The dawn rose over a much quieter scene. The general feeling was that everything had been done that could be done, and the city's fate was now in the hand of the gods. That Daenerys had returned in their time of need was taken as a good omen, and the soldiery looked quite confident as they manned the walls and greased the scorpions.

The battleplan had been swiftly adapted to account for Daenerys and Drogon's presence. The Wolf was absent from the meeting, having spent the night on the Seafang, and it was deemed too great a waste of time and too great a burden on their nerves to summon him, not when they needed every man ready to face the enemy with steely calm. The commanders knew their positions and had their orders, the messengers stood ready to dispatch last-minute changes, when a harbor watchman ran in through the tent door.

"A ship from Dragonstone!"

The messenger was brought up with great haste, Arya just behind him. The messenger, a veteran of many a battle, found himself tongue-tied at his moment of triumph, dozens of armed men and a Targaryen staring anxiously at him.

"The Iron Fleet, it's gone! They lowered anchor just west of the island, shot down all our ravens, and they just- left!"

There was a great commotion at the news, but mostly sighs of relief at the imminent danger being pushed back.

"Gone? But why?"

"To scare us, do you think? He couldn't have known Daenerys would return?"

"I... I don't know, my lord. They waited for us to send the ravens in a wave, and then they lowered the sails and went north. Our ship had left harbor with me on it before they were even out of sight."

The Wolf burst through the tent flap at that moment with his usual lack of regard for social niceties.

"Seafang's all ready to leave, Dragonqueen, and a fine morning for it too! A good omen for your reign to begin, death on the water after death by fire! Will they call it Redwater Bay or Bloodwater Bay after we're through, do you think?"

The Wolf chuckled and grinned savagely. Tyrion gave Daenerys a look worth a thousand "told you so"s.

The barbarian looked around and for once seemed to pick up the prevailing mood.

"Everyone glad to go, I see! Nothing like a day of carnage and slaughter to keep a man's spirits up. You will keep a few for us, Dragonqueen? Butchery is best done before the corpse is roasted, after all!"

The Wolf laughed again. Daenerys did not feel inclined to leave the pleasure of breaking the news to anyone else.

"There will be no battle, Ser Wolf. The Iron Fleet has fled."

The grin remained, but the Wolf's eyes changed. He leaned forward slowly.

"What."

"The Iron Fleet has pulled out of the bay and gone past Dragonstone. Their messenger arrived just before you did."

For an instant the messenger found himself the center of attention, quailing as the Wolf turned his furious gaze towards him. Then the Wolf picked the hapless man up by the back of the neck.

"They WHAT!? WHEN!?"

"T-t-t-two days ago! I just got here! Took the fastest ship!"

The Wolf snarled like his namesake as he dropped the man and turned on his heel. The crowd swiftly pulled out of the giant's way as he thundered out of the tent. There was pause, then a brief squawk from the guard outside, a horrible screeching noise, and the sound of something being thrown to the ground with great force, before the Wolf's thudding footsteps faded away.

There was a brief silence as the luckless guard entered, holding a misshapen disc of metal barely recognizable as having been a helmet before the Wolf's hands had squeezed it flat.

Tyrion voiced the common opinion first.

"That went about as well as we could have hoped for, I think."

The meeting ended, the officers spread out to give the news to their troops. Arya found herself close enough to Jon that no one else would interrupt them.

Before Arya could say anything, Jon gave his cousin, though he would ever think of her as his half-sister, a hug as tight as Tormund's before releasing her.

"Are you mad?! What were you thinking?"

"It seemed the easiest solution. Cut off the snake's head, and..."

"But how would you even have done it?"

"Easy. I was going to Dragonstone in a fishing ship. They'd have boarded and captured us, I'd have disguised myself and gotten free, or the other way around, and then killed my way over to Euron. With him dead, the fleet would have scattered or gone back over to Yara."

Jon goggled. He knew Arya had gone through disasters and life-changing events he could not fathom, and that any man who thought to force himself on her would soon lose both the will and the means to do so, but he still felt in some way responsible for her safety.

He sighed.

"The man you rented the ship from came by. He didn't know you were headed straight for the ironborn."

"Oh right. His son'll be back within the day, I took the faster ship."

"But you intended to sacrifice him for your plan?"

Arya just gave him a look.

"Ser Wolf."

The Wolf turned around as he was speaking to one of his men on the Seafang.

"Oh, it's you, Shield-slayer. Come to see the fickleness of the gods at work?"

Everywhere Tyrion looked the disgruntled-looking crew of the longship were hauling arms and armor inside the hold.

"It's about Euron's spy."

It seemed to Tyrion that the Wolf stiffened.

"We have reason to think he may have been in league with whoever it was that sent Daenerys into her frenzy. It was definitely a spell that caused her to attack, she told us so herself."

There was no mistaking it now, the Wolf was definitely reacting to what Tyrion was telling him. Tyrion did not think it was to his victoriously closing the argument that had started before the Iron Throne. The giant's eyes narrowed.

"Really."

"Yes. It may be that the helmet we found was planted as a decoy, and that the spy may be within the walls still. Or worse, that he and the sorcerer are one and the same. Will you ask which of your men took it, and in what circumstances?"

"Can't. He's dead."

The reply was immediate.

"Dead? Dead how?"

"He was among those who partook in the overenthusiastic looting of the city. I killed him myself, and what he'd grabbed was added to the others' shares."

Tyrion sighed in disappointment.

"But if you ask me, they weren't working together. Quibbles or Quill or whatever his name was probably tried it as a last-ditch effort against the Dragonqueen, at your sister's request. Getting two men in the city, one for the chain and one for the spell, seems to me a plan where too much can go wrong, if either were to be caught."

The Wolf shrugged, looking Tyrion straight in the eye.

"I certainly wouldn't have tried it, were I in his place... and had I an intellect as deficient as his. No, I would have had the man flee the city at first opportunity."

"Then you don't think it was a single man either?"

The Wolf looked pensive, but shook his head.

"The study of magic and training at arms are often mutually exclusive."

The giant shrugged again.

"Of course, every now and then you get a warrior who takes a hit to the head and thereafter speaks in riddles and prophecies, or a shaman who can lift a full-grown ram above his head, or even a Chosen of the Raven who wields curse and blade with equal skill, but such men are known far and wide among the Norsca. They certainly would have stood out here. The spell was all your sister's plan, you may depend on it."

"I see."

A thought struck Tyrion.

"Might I take that helmet with me? There is a chance that someone may have recognized it from that night, and seen something. And since the man who claimed it is now dead..."

Tyrion thought it was a reasonable enough request, but the Wolf's face showed a clear internal struggle. Perhaps his tribe viewed it as grave robbery, or the Wolf was guilty of the same avarice he despised in rulers.

"N-naturally. Einarr!"

The Wolf barked an order at one of his crewmen, who went into the hold.

"You know, it's funny, my brother would have had to pass near the winch towers if he tried to enter the side gate that night. For all we know he ran into the saboteur."

The Wolf's eye twitched and he looked away. Was it the missed battle that made him nervous? Did he get jumpy when he didn't kill anything for more than a few days?

"Yes. Funny. Quite. EINARR!"

The marauder returned carrying the helmet. His face had the clear expression of a servant whose master's nonsensical orders were getting in the way of important work.

"Here you are, Shield-slayer."

Tyrion took the helmet. It was slightly scuffed now, probably the result of being stuffed in and out of a sack of plunder, but the shape was so grotesque he had no doubt it would be easily recognizable.

"While you're here, Shield-slayer, you might give me an answer."

"Yes?"

"That banner over there."

Tyrion looked at where the Wolf was pointing.

"A ship bearing an onion on its sail. What is that?"

"That's Davos' emblem."

"Davos?! It can't be. No farmer could plan a defense against sea attack so well, the only fault was that the enemy declined to show up."

"He's not a farmer, it's how he was knighted."

"An onion knight?"

The Wolf grinned.

Killed one of those once. Feisty little bastard, for all the feathers he wore on his helm. That last fantasy cost him his life, I just had to grab with one hand and stab with the other."

Tyrion felt like asking for clarification, then decided he didn't need to know more about the Wolf's exploits than necessary. He could already imagine the Wolf showing him a mangled skull or other grisly trophy.

"He was knighted for his service to Stannis Baratheon, smuggling onions to a besieged city."

"For that alone? They give out titles easily around these parts. Is there also a cucumber knight, who received his title for the invaluable services he provided to the ladies of the kingdom while their husbands were away?"

"You don't know the rest of the story, I take it. Stannis had the fingertips of Davos' hand chopped off."

The Wolf blinked rapidly.

"What, the same Stannis?"

"Yes. Smuggling's a crime, after all."

"You mean, this Stannis knighted him and then found out he was a smuggler?"

"He was the one commanding the besieged city. Didn't stop Davos from following him."

The Wolf stared silently at Tyrion for some time.

"I may need to revise my opinions of the Southerners after all. And where is this man Stannis, who inspires such loyalty and gratitude in his men?"

"Dead. Some time now, in fact."

The Wolf made an annoyed sound.

"And how did he die?"

"Brienne executed him after he lost a battle."

The Wolf sighed.

"My grandfather always complained things were better in his day. I'm starting to understand him. Look at what I've been given to kill. If I'd been sent here earlier..."

The Wolf fell silent, and seemed to be looking at someplace far away. Tyrion shared a look with Einarr, still standing there holding the sack of loot. Despite the language barrier, Tyrion sensed the smaller barbarian also suffered morally from spending time in the Wolf's company.

"I will take my leave then."

The Wolf did not respond. Tyrion took the helmet, and with a final nod, left the ship.