They assembled that morning in the council chamber shortly before a man in the brilliant robe of a Red Priest approached. It was not the stentorian priest who had led the delegation but one of his acolytes, a Sothros man with night-black skin and greying hair. He was not as imposing as Parltro, but his voice inspired confidence.
"R'hllor light your way, children. I am Aldma, slave of R'hllor."
"Greetings, Aldma. I am Jon Snow, Hand of the King, this is Tyrion Lannister, who... formerly employed the Wolf, Samwell Tarly, and Grey Worm, commander of the Unsullied. Ser Davos is working with the fleet to speed up repairs."
"Is your true name not Aegon Targaryen?"
Jon breathed deep.
"Jon Snow will do just fine."
He looked at the door.
"We're just waiting for som- Ah."
Arya Stark entered, followed by Beric Dondarrion, still carrying the parchment that had summoned her to the council chamber.
"This is Aldma. Your reverence, this is Arya Stark. She was with Melisandre last."
Beric nodded a greeting to the others, who returned it. The priest stood up suddenly and delivered a long tirade in Valyrian. Arya only really recognized the words "Azor Ahai".
"Um. You're welcome."
"You are the-"
"Yes, I killed the Night King. Although with the noise the Wolf was making anyone could have sneaked up on them. I don't think he even noticed me."
Tyrion spoke up to avoid the priest going off on a another tangent.
"Anything else you can tell us about what Melisandre said?"
"Not much."
Arya shrugged.
"She told me it was important that the Wolf not take the Night King's skull. I don't know why."
The Red Priest smiled.
"Ah, but she was wise indeed. And you did very well to heed her words."
"Why was it important though?"
Tyrion remembered something.
"I recall he said something about needing five skulls. The Mountain was one, Baelish was another..."
"Ramsay's too."
"He said that?"
Jon nodded.
"He even complained that Ramsay didn't put up much of a fight."
"Five skulls? This is of great importance. Tell me what happened after this encounter."
Tyrion shrugged.
"The Wolf first showed up to champion me against the Mountain, and cut off his head after winning. If I'd known then... Then told us to assemble our armies against him, and disappeared."
"Did he mutilate the body?"
Tyrion looked at Arya with surprise.
"Yes, he did."
"Cut off his head, gut him, and pull out his heart?"
"Exactly."
"That's what he did to Littlefinger."
Jon looked up.
"And after the battle against the Boltons, we found a flayed body hung upside down on two spears. Its head had been cut off, as had the heart and cock, its guts spilled out. I only knew it was Ramsay after he told me."
The priest spoke again.
"Sacrifices to his gods, no doubt. It is most fortunate that he was interrupted from claiming the fourth and fifth skulls. Though I do not understand the significance of the spears or the flaying."
"It's the Bolton emblem. The Flayed Man, hung upside down on a saltire."
"So he used the Boltons' own symbol to kill him?"
"Have we ever known him to be subtle when insulting his enemies? Or allies, for that matter?"
Tyrion shook his head.
"The Mountain, Ramsay Bolton, Littlefinger... Why did he target the most hated men on the continent?"
"Why were they so hated?"
They looked in shock at the priest, before remembering he wasn't from Westeros. Tyrion went first.
"The Mountain was... a monster. A rabid dog in the shape of a man. A knight in the employ of my father, used to ravage the lands of any who opposed him. Cersei used him as her trump card during trials by combat. And yet the Wolf killed him."
Tyrion looked to the Red Priest.
"The strongest man in the world met his match in the Wolf. We'll have to use what magic you can-"
"No."
"What?"
Aldma's mouth could have been carved from granite.
"Magic... will not work against him. From R'hllor we know this, that the protections given to him by his vile gods ensure he can only die in battle. His killer will be enthralled in turn to those gods, to take up his service. He may be a great warrior, but a mere man at present, can you imagine facing a sorcerer or a man skilled in the ways of magic?"
A hopeless silence fell over the table. Tyrion was the first to break it.
"But... how can we kill him then? I've never seen anyone come close to defeating the Mountain, and look how fast that happened."
"Were these other victims as formidable?"
Ayla snorted.
"Baelish, formidable? You should have seen him try to use a sword on the Wolf. A half-blind man with a butter knife could have done better."
Tyrion nodded.
"They were anything but. He repeatedly complained about that as well."
He hesitated for a moment.
"He only seems to respect people on how well they can fight."
"Does he? Lord Targ- Lord Snow said you employed him."
"I didn't know what he was up to, he just seemed a good bodyguard! It was a good idea at the time."
"And does he hold you in the same contempt as his victims?"
Tyrion thought his answer over.
"No. He thought... he thought my going to parley with Cersei without him to shield me was an act of great courage. And he only ever seems to call me Shield-slayer."
Before the priest could ask, Tyrion had answered.
"Because I once killed a man with a shield. I don't... I don't think he was lying, in that instance. He even offered me to join him, though I declined."
And thank the real gods for that, for who knows what part in Daenerys' murder he might have played.
Arya nodded.
"He told me something similar. He wouldn't let me kill Baelish, but he did let me watch. And he calls me girl, but it's not as insulting as from other people."
Jon went on.
"I tried to send him after you when you went east, he called you braver than most men. And when I killed one of his warriors during the siege for attacking Unsullied, the next morning he brought me the man's armor and weapons. And his head."
Aldma goggled.
"And what did you do with them? You did not keep them?!"
"Certainly not. The head went to the dogs or on a pyre. I don't know what became of the rest, probably looted by now."
The Red Priest looked calmer.
"So what did these men have in common? Did he state why his gods wanted them dead?"
Tyrion looked doubtful.
"Not much in common save that they were about the evilest men you could hope to find. The best in their field, really. The Mountain was a murderer and a rapist. Ramsay was a torturer. Baelish betrayed everyone he knew. And the Night King, well..."
"Ahhh. So such is his plan."
The priest nodded, looking satisfied.
"What is?"
"Each of these victims is in some way an avatar of his hateful gods, and the twisted values they use as scripture. Rape, murder, betrayal and corruption are their virtues. Should he prevail, such would be the morality of our world."
They each imagined a world where the most heinous actions of Gregor Clegane, Ramsay Bolton and Petyr Baelish would not only be encouraged but glorified. Tyrion shuddered.
"So he needs five skulls... Why?"
"We presume they are needed for a ritual to his gods, that will give them a greater presence here. There are a thousand thousand worlds beyond our own, each with their peculiar gods and peoples, some worse than others. At their bidding, he seeks to put other worlds under their domination."
Tyrion finally understood why the Wolf had been so ignorant of the most basic knowledge of Westeros history. Arya looked pensive.
"So when Melisandre said this world is hell..."
"There are others, yes, as R'hllor has revealed to us. Few are as bad as this one, his is one of them."
"And that's why he looks like a Wildling? And despises Southerners?"
Aldma nodded.
"These worlds often mirror our own. It seems that he comes from the northern reaches of his world, and that such a place is also cold and harsh."
"So we could send him back to his world?"
The priest paused for a moment, considering his answer. Finally he shook his head.
"It is a possibility, but that would do little to discourage his patrons, who would doubtless try again with a more powerful champion. We must deal with this threat here and now."
"And the Iron Throne is needed for this ritual as well?"
"Undoubtedly."
Jon remembered something.
"When he first tried to steal the Throne, he spoke as though Daenerys was still to sit on it, he just had to move it somewhere else. Why?"
Aldma shook his head.
"This I do not know. But as long as we succeed in keeping from him the other two skulls, he cannot allow his gods contact with our world, and this gives us more time to prepare."
Ayla looked doubtful.
"But who are the other two? He tried to kill the Night King, but I shattered him. I don't think he'll find a replacement that easily."
The Red Priest sighed.
"His gods are not so easily denied. He already has a murderer, a torturer and a traitor to offer them, now all that remains are one who represents stagnation and one destruction."
Samwell looked up.
"Stagnation?"
"Yes. One of his gods is strengthened by death, resistance to change and disease. "
Samwell snorted.
"That could be any Maester from the Citadel!"
Tyrion looked thoughtful.
"Well there was Qyburn, but he's dead too."
"Indeed? Who was he?"
"The Maester who served Cersei, banished for his experiments."
"What experiments?"
"His experiments on the dead."
Slowly the implications made their way through everyone's minds.
Jon spoke up.
"But... nothing like the scale of the Night King?"
Tyrion shook his head.
"From what I heard, it took him months to return the Mountain to a semblance of life. And anyway he's dead, burned along with his creation and Cersei when Daenerys attacked."
He frowned.
"Although... I found the Wolf looting Qyburn's laboratory. He said he intended to sell off the contents elsewhere, where he could get a better price for them. He isn't the type to practice alchemy, at least. They likely went down with his ship in any case."
Jon nodded.
"Should we send word to the Citadel and tell them to strengthen their defenses?"
"You really think that'll help against him?"
Tyrion opened his mouth and closed it.
"… No. It won't."
"And the other... destruction?"
"Yes."
"Wasn't that the Mountain already?"
"No. It is destruction and not just war, turning against itself even when there is no enemy to direct itself again."
Beric spoke up.
"Could it... could it have been Cersei? Look at what she's done to the Seven Kingdoms."
"What do you think, your reverence?"
The Red Priest looked thoughtful.
"From what we have divined, I do not believe so. The man is driven by challenge, as I understand it."
Jon, Arya and Tyrion nodded simultaneously.
"And a queen would present little difficulty to him."
Arya smiled humorlessly.
"What do you know, we agree on something."
"No, I believe we must look elsewhere. Possibly a warrior of great talent."
"It could have been Daenerys."
Arya looked scornfully at their outraged glances.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, you know it's true."
Tyrion tried to steer the discussion to safer terrain.
"Yes, but he made no effort to take her head. He didn't even want her death, as far as we can tell."
Beric shrugged.
"One of the Dothraki then?"
"Would this man necessarily be in Westeros?"
Tyrion blanched. Not necessarily in Westeros...
"Oh. Oh no."
"What?"
Silence fell as the others noticed Tyrion's pallor.
"I think... I think the Wolf killed Euron."
"Euron Greyjoy!?"
They looked at the priest with some surprise. But Tyrion reflected that Euron's crimes far exceeded the length and breadth of Westeros' coasts, Aldma had to have heard of him.
"But how? The Iron Fleet is still somewhere around Essos, the last we heard of them."
"He told me Euron wouldn't be a threat to us, so we could concentrate solely on fighting him. And he as good as admitted that he was behind the River Gate's sabotage during the siege."
"But when? Euron was seen to be in the city the day before the siege."
Tyrion shook his head.
"Someone wearing Euron's helmet was seen in the city. And... and now that I think about it, he seemed somewhat reluctant to give it to me for inquiry. They must have met... when he brought us back from parley with Cersei! He told me he'd scared Euron into running back to his islands, he must have killed him then and replaced him with one of his own men, or an Ironborn!"
Beric nodded.
"And what is Euron if not a force of blind destruction, spreading death and chaos for... for the fun of it?"
Grey Worm frowned.
"But the Iron Fleet did not attack us after the siege. Even without Euron to lead them, would they have neglected such a prize target?"
Tyrion frowned.
"He told me his lies were necessary to keep the armies together in Daenerys' absence. What if he ordered them to sail around Dragonstone to scare us, and then pull away without attacking? What if he has the Iron Fleet's loyalty?"
Appalled silence fell. Even the Red Priest seemed horrified.
"He'd be a perfect king for them, wouldn't he."
Only Grey Worm shook his head.
"He is a barbarian, fit only to charge at his foes. He could not have deceived us so easily."
Tyrion looked at him.
"He could do it all the more easily by overacting his part. Loud, dense, obtuse... Remember on the day of the siege, how Daenerys looked so... so happy at announcing that he wouldn't get a fight, and he left just after that? We were just glad to have him out of the way, and didn't question what he did after."
Grey Worm still looked unconvinced.
"Why did he instruct Daenerys on how to best attack the city, then agree to spare the prisoners?"
"Spare the prisoners?"
"The Lannisters were set to be executed in Daenerys' name the day after the siege. Then he showed up to butcher them, one by one, as if... as if Daenerys would appreciate it. Only when I told him to wait until Daenerys to return did he stop."
Tyrion saw Jon make a strange face. Perhaps he did not remember it the same way.
"I don't know... but it strikes me that most of the time he's perfectly open and honest with whoever he's talking to. It makes him a disturbingly good liar."
Arya nodded.
"That's the impression I got from him. When he told me he refused Littlefinger's offer to work for him and said it'd be no fun to conquer a defenseless world."
"That does sound like him."
Grey Worm still looked unsatisfied.
"But why did he seek to be excused from the siege, if he knew there was no danger of Euron arriving?"
This question caused silence as it was pondered by all. Finally Tyrion shook his head.
"I don't know... but we need to assume Euron is dead, or worse, working for the Wolf. In any case, Euron's skull is most likely the fourth one he needs, and is available to the Wolf at any moment. He only needs one more. And we must warn Yara at once."
"And ask the Free Cities to keep a watch."
Arya looked at the Red Priest and Beric.
"Can you send messages to others of your order in Essos? If the Iron Fleet comes rushing back to King's Landing, they can warn us."
"It will be done."
The Red Priest stood up.
"I will confer with my fellows and tell them of what we have decided. If what you say is indeed the case, this monster's corruption reaches further across the world than we thought, and R'hllor's faithful must put his followers to the flame wherever they may be."
Tyrion bit back a "more than usual". Now was not the time to criticize the only ally who seemed to have some idea of how to fight their foe.
The Silence emerged from the lurid border-realm into utter darkness. Akkarulf instinctively held a hand to his eyes, then felt the Wolf's hand clamping over his mouth.
"Mff? Mf-"
"Shht!"
He sensed rather than saw the Wolf's imposing presence at his side. The Wolf's whisper next to his ear sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine even as he released his hold over Akkarulf's face.
"Sound carries over these waters."
Akkarulf could feel the ship losing height, and a slight push upwards as it met the water. He could hear the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship's sides.
"But where are we?"
"Somewhere under the Mountains of Mourn, but I don't think it has a name, or ever had one. No lights, or they'll see us."
"Who?!"
"The ones I'm going to negotiate with. Now stay quiet. Take example on your crewmen, you don't hear them screaming in fear."
There was a sniff.
"Pissing themselves, yes, but in silence."
The Wolf rose and walked away. He seemed to be making an effort to remain quiet, for the echo of his armored boots on the deck were not as loud as usual. There was a splash as one of the rowboats was lowered, and then nothing more.
How long the Wolf stayed away from the ship, Akkarulf never knew. Even his heartbeat seemed too loud, and in the absence of sight his mind provided all too many horrid things waiting in the dark waters, maggot-pale and eyeless, hunting by sound and drawn inexorably to the ship intruding on their realm. His eyes, blessed by the true gods to be vastly superior to any man's, gave him no advantage in this darkness. He drew his blade, a pathetic gesture of resistance against the terror-filled dark, willing it to make no sound. Seaman born and bred as he was, he wanted to be on dry land like never before.
Several crewmen bumped into him. He tried to reassure them as best he could without letting his voice rise above a whisper.
After what seemed an eternity he heard a splashing noise in the distance, then a rocking of the ship that told him the Wolf had returned. He remained silent, uncertain that his captain was not pursued. At last he once again felt the Wolf approach.
"Get inside."
The Wolf's presence fell away, leaving Akkarulf to grope his way back to the cabin, lit by a single lantern. Shortly after the rest of the crew filed in, looking as terrified as he felt, and then the Wolf's marauders, who didn't seem to be faring much better. When they were all assembled, the Wolf closed the door with care.
"I've had less luck with these bastards than the others, so we'll be here a while longer. I need to kill something for them."
He went on, his gaze sweeping the cabin.
"Stay inside and keep every lantern lit. Close all the hatches, keep a man in front of every one, and knock on the hatch if you hear scratching, it'll scare them off for a while. They strike at the unwary, their strength comes from stealth and numbers. And don't worry open the door until I return and knock..."
The Wolf's voice dropped as he knocked out a rhythm on the door.
"… like this..."
The Wolf held up three fingers, then one more on his other hand.
"No more, no less."
"Barricade this door and keep a watch on it, it may be that you come under attack once they see the hatches are guarded. If you do, defend yourselves, but not one step outside, they'll swarm you and you'll be ripped to shreds without even seeing what it is that killed you. Not the kind of death that gets remembered in tale and song."
The Wolf then spoke to his own crewmen, but from what little Akkarulf had learned of their language he was repeating the same precautions. Then he pointed to Akkarulf, and the marauders nodded.
"Remember:"
The Wolf held up four fingers again, then opened the door and left. In the cabin, the only thing that could be heard was the sputtering lantern.
The marauders looked to Akkarulf. Even without knowing their tongue he knew what they wanted.
"As he said. Everyone takes a watch. No man stays alone, and don't die quietly."
He paired off Ironborn with Norscans, assigning each to watch over a point of entry into the ship. Having inspected each one, he sat down to wait, sword in hand.
More than a dozen guard changes later, all of which had reported scratching noises driven off by striking the hatch, Akkarulf started as he heard a knock at the door. It was the same as the Wolf had done.
He stood bolt upright, staring at the door. A marauder moved as if to open it, but another stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. A third man gave him a furious look, holding up a hand with four fingers raised.
The knock came again, faster this time. And a third time.
Finally they heard the sound of metal scraping against wood, and the door shuddered. Whatever enemy the Wolf had warned them against was clearly outside and trying to force its way in.
Remembering the Wolf's instructions not to leave the cabin, Akkarulf drew his sword and stepped up to the door as quietly as he could, ready to bring it crashing down on the first thing to come through the door. Then there was a fleshy sound and a shrill cry, followed by a splash shortly after. Then the knocks came again, four this time.
The door was unbarred, and the Wolf entered, wiping his sword clean. The crew's relief was palpable, but the giant looked straight at Akkarulf.
"Any problems?"
"No yarrl. We only heard something just now."
"Then I got back in time. Get everyone on deck, we're leaving."
"Gladly, yarrl. Where to?"
"Where? To sea, and good riddance to this pit. You can bring up the lights outside, they won't attack us. Yet."
The ship's lights were wilingly kindled and the sails unfurled, long poles handled by the crews to punt the ship into the gaping maw opened by the dragon's head prow. Even with all lights blazing Akkarulf could not see the ceiling, only a rocky shore that quickly receded until the ship passed into the border-realm and the hole between worlds shrank to nothing.
Now they were in the demon realm again, but at least this time the enemies were visible. Akkarulf nocked an arrow and let it fly into a fanged eyeball with greater joy than he'd felt in a long time, whispering a prayer of thanks to the Ruinous Powers.