Chapter Eighty Four: The Confession

Are they ever going to quiet down? Some people are trying to sleep.

Of course, he could only speak for himself. He did not have much else to do, other than sleep. I doubt they'd supply me a book or any other form of entertainment, even if I asked for it politely. Not that there's enough light for reading or much anything else in here.

It had been over a week since the Night's King was slain and the Army of the Dead destroyed. The celebration began less than an hour after the final battle, and he had hardly seen anyone else in all that time. Considering the circumstances, it would be understandable if the festivities went on for a while longer. It's not often that people literally save the whole fucking world.

Based on the noise, the whole of Moat Cailin was still fervently rejoicing the victory over the Others. Except for myself. And the men standing guard outside. The noise had hardly gone down at all since the partying started, and it did not seem as though it would die down anytime soon. They're going to have to stop eventually, though. After all, the undead may have been gone from this world forever, but the living still had other problems and hardships to overcome. Namely, winter was still going on.

Even if he had been able to partake in the celebration, he would not have done so. Instead, while everybody else was busy drinking, singing, and chortling in their euphoria, he would have spent his time calculating his next move, just as he always did. Alas, the damn Mountain threw a wrench into that plan.

Since he had been alone with his thoughts for most of his incarceration, he had spent much of his time wondering how the Mountain had singled him out as the last person from the real world. I know I gave myself up when I tried to have Tyrion killed in the final battle, but Gregor Clegane must have had his suspicions sometime before then. The main question is: how long was I the main suspect?

Then a possibility occurred to him. Perhaps he did not cover up his tracks as well as he thought he had. That at least made the most sense of all the theories he could come up with thus far. In plain terms, he had fucked up. Again.

At the start of his imprisonment, he wondered if the Mountain was just going to lock him in a cell in the Reproach Tower and leave him there to rot. But that was not the case. Four times a day, someone came to his cell. Once to replace his chamber pot, and thrice to give him breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even more surprising was that they did not limit his nourishment to bread and water. They gave him meat, potatoes, greens, eggs, and sometimes even wine or ale.

While he enjoyed the meals, he had mixed feelings over the fact that they were keeping him so well-fed. It suggested that they were keeping him alive for a specific reason. Had they only given him the most basic of sustenance, it would have been a sign that they only intended to hold him in the Reproach Tower for an indefinite amount of time. The Cleganes of Moat Cailin may be rich, but even they wouldn't waste such fine cuisine on a perpetual prisoner.

Finally, after about ten days of solitary confinement, he received his first visitors. They would probably be his last, as well. He would do everything in his power to ensure that that would not be the case.

There were five individuals who came to see him. Three were just like him: Lord Gregor Clegane, Lady Melisandre, and Mollander. The other two were Bran Stark and the massive direwolf who sired Summer and his siblings.

"I see you brought the Big Bad Direwolf," he commented drily when Mollander closed the cell door behind them. Once it was shut, he heard the lock being bolted on the other side. They're taking no chances, it seems.

"Ha ha fucking ha," Mollander mumbled sarcastically, "Did you spend all week coming up with that?"

"Oh, I've got plenty more witty retorts," he claimed, "I've had enough time to come up with an entire arsenal of them."

"Then you've all but wasted these last several days," Melisandre contended, hands at her hips.

"How would you have spent it?" he disputed, "Would you have tried to find a way to justify doing what I did? The thought occurred to me, but I sobered up and realized how pointless that would have been. It's obvious nothing I say will change my fate."

"You are quite right about that," Gregor Clegane confirmed. Didn't even blink, just like the original Mountain. "The three of us have already decided what to do with you. Long story short, you will not live to see tomorrow. You won't even get a trial. There's already more than enough proof to confirm your guilt. Nothing will change that; no matter how hard you plead for your life."

"You honestly believe I would bother with empty words?" he stated, "Well, I won't. If you were hoping to see me snivel and grovel like Littlefinger in the season seven finale, you're going to be mighty disappointed. I've already made my peace with my current predicament. The least I can do now is die with the little dignity I have left."

Melisandre raised an eyebrow at that. "I may not respect you, but I can respect your conviction. I don't think I would be so prepared to die."

"It's not the first time I've had to make my peace," he disclosed, "I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about."

"Indeed, we do," Mollander affirmed, "However, death came very suddenly for each of us in our first lives. Mine was an accident from electrocution."

"Mine was an accident, too," Melisandre added in, "But from a car crash."

"I see," he remarked. Turning to the tallest person there, he asked "And you?"

"I was the victim of a murder," Gregor Clegane answered straightforwardly, "I took a bullet to the back."

Oh, so you do know suffering. "Those deaths do not sound pleasant. Even so, I would have preferred any of them to the one I had. My death was slow. Painfully slow, in fact."

"What was the cause?" Melisandre asked.

"Brain tumor," he answered, placing his finger on a particular spot on the top of his head, "I had it right here for seven years, including the entirety of my high school life. I succumbed to it not long after my graduation."

Gregor Clegane seemed perplexed. "So, you were only eighteen when you died?"

"Twenty, actually," he illuminated, "I had to repeat two grades, due to all the unexcused absences incurred from my illness. Less than a month after I got my diploma, I kicked the bucket."

"Talk about wasted effort," Mollander commented. He almost sounded sympathetic. Oh, spare me.

"Not really," he countered, "Despite having a cancer eating away at my cranium, I was always regarded by my friends and family as a genius of sorts. I took more than few college-level courses while I was working towards my compulsory education. Some I took simply for the fun of it. I'm sure you may think that's a rather esoteric definition of 'fun.'"

"Oh, not at all," Gregor Clegane revealed, "Even after I graduated from college, I was always eager to learn more."

"I can relate," said Melisandre.

"So can I," said Mollander, "Knowledge is a delight. One most people never truly take advantage of."

"I know just what you mean, Roger," Bran Stark observed, "Ever since I became the Three-Eyed Raven, I've had the knowledge of the entire history of the Known World at my disposal. While it can be a burden at times, it can also be a pleasure."

"You do know what I mean," the Citadel novice remarked, nodding his head to agree.

"'Roger?'" Ser Kevan Lannister noted.

"That's my real name," Mollander explained, "Roger Dunn from Savannah, Georgia."

"Oh, I see," Ser Kevan acknowledged. Looking to the Red Woman and the Mountain, he inquired "What about you two?"

"Melanie Hamilton from Cheyenne, Wyoming," Lady Melisandre replied.

"Gregory Welch from Seattle, Washington," Lord Gregor expounded. He then leaned in closer and queried "And what of you? Are you going to indulge us with your real name?"

"If you insist," the blonde man stated candidly. He paused for a moment, and then he declared "My name is Alejandro Fernandez."

The others said nothing at first; they merely gazed at him in silence after he said that. Then, without any warning whatsoever, Gregory, Melanie, and Roger all burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. I saw this coming. In their position, I would probably laugh, as well.

They continued guffawing for a couple minutes. Eventually, they relented.

"Seriously?" said Melanie, as though she did not believe him.

"Yes, seriously," Alejandro insisted, "For simplicity's sake, just call me 'Alex.' And despite my Spanish ancestry, I assure you I'm just as American as the three of you."

"Is that right?" Mollander murmured. He sounded somewhat skeptical.

"Well, I was originally born in Buenos Aires," Alex confessed, "But when I was three, my family immigrated from Argentina to the United States. For the duration of my first life, I held citizenship in both countries."

"Wait, you said you were Spanish?" Bran Stark pointed out.

"That's correct," Alex verified, "Spanish is the language of my ancestors. It was just my luck that Gregory here knew Spanish, as well, and that he chose to make it the secret language of the Legion without Banners. That gave me the ability to understand any conversation I happened to intercept or overhear between Legionnaires."

Gregory just folded his arms and spat "Un montón de bien que te hizo a la larga." (A fat lot of good it did you in the long run.)

Alex chuckled and retorted with "Se cree listo, ¿no? Bueno, noticia de última hora; Siempre hay alguien más astuto que usted." (You think yourself clever, don't you? Well, news flash; there's always someone more cunning than you.)

At that, the tallest man there smirked and muttered "Y en mi caso, ¿cree que 'alguien' es usted? ¿Necesito recordarse cuál de nosotros es prisionero del otro?" (And in my case, you think 'someone' is you? Need I remind you which of us is a prisoner of the other?)

Alex calmly stared Gregory in the eye and told him "Oh, estoy muy consciente de eso. Pero algún día, alguien con un ingenio aún más agudo de lo que usted aparecerá. Lo único que lamento es que no estaré cerca cuando eso suceda." (Oh, I'm well-aware of that. But someday, someone with even sharper wits than you will show up. My only regret is that I won't be around when that happens.)

"Alright, enough with the Spanish," Roger uttered flatly, "Could we go back to speaking in a dialect we all understand?"

"Certainly," Gregory conceded. He then turned back to the oldest person there, and he said, "On that note, let us get back to the purpose of this visit, too. As we were saying, your death is at hand."

"Naturally," Alex commented, "However, before you send me to the block or the gallows or whatever, I have one final request."

"Very well," Gregory remarked, "If it's reasonable, I shall grant it."

"Oh, it's quite reasonable," Alex assured him, "I simply wish to know how you managed to deduce that I was from the real world."

Gregory, Melanie, and Roger looked around at each other for a minute, as though they were communicating with one another through their eyes. Ultimately, they looked back over at Alex, and Gregory said "We will tell you. But in return, I want you to tell us what you were hoping to accomplish by doing the things you did."

"Sounds like a fair exchange," Alex thought aloud.

Gregory then began pacing around the cell, but he kept his gaze locked on Alex. He pronounced "Now, before we get started, you should know that I worked for the Central Intelligence Agency in my first life. I was assigned to field ops most of the time, but I conducted a fair share of investigations, as well. You could say I have a gift for distinguishing the guilty from the innocent. That gift is what enabled me to form and command the Legion without Banners."

"That explains quite a bit," Alex commented, "But the fact that you're a crack detective is insufficient clarification. There must be more to how you reached your conclusions than that."

"Oh, there is," Gregory asserted. He then turned to the only female person in the room, and he revealed "I myself did not know there were others from the real world until Melanie here first contacted me. That was about a year ago. In the back of my mind, I always suspected, but had she not reached out to the Legion, I would have continued to assume I was the only one."

"We used to believe the same," Roger confessed, gesturing to himself and Melanie, "But when Gregor Clegane started deviating from his canon behavior and mannerisms, that was when I realized there were indeed others like me."

"Whereas in my case, I came to that realization a while before I even heard of the Mountain's contradictory actions," Melanie expounded, "There were two others like us in Essos. One was a Canadian named Herman Lewis who was reborn as Hizdahr zo Loraq, and the other was a Welsh-born American named Eugene Quinn who was reborn as Yezzan zo Qaggaz. The two of them met up long before any of us were in communication with one another, and they took it upon themselves to systematically search the World of Ice and Fire for others from our world. Eventually, they came to Asshai by the Shadow."

"Fascinating," Alex remarked, "On that note, I must say you seem to be doing well for someone who's been in this world for over a hundred years."

Initially, Melanie seemed bewildered. Then she caught on to what Alex was implying. "Are you referring to the last moments of the season six premiere, when it was revealed that Melisandre's age is much greater than we were led to believe?"

"Yes, I am," Alex affirmed, "So tell me; just how ancient is Melisandre?"

"Hell, if I know," Melanie said drily, "As it happens, I wasn't actually reborn as Melisandre."

Before Alex could ask for elaboration, the Red Woman brought her right hand up to the pendant around her throat, and she pressed down on the ruby. Straightaway, her appearance changed. Her hair grew and turned a solid black, her face became less wrinkly, and she increased in height a little.

"I recognize you," Alex proclaimed, after taking a moment to study her features, "Your character's name is Kinvara, right?"

"Correct," Melanie responded, "I am not the real Melisandre. But I did know the real Melisandre; she was my mentor. When Herman and Eugene wished to take me with them, she refused to allow me to leave Asshai. But I was determined to go, one way or another. When it became evident that reasoning with her was pointless, I killed her and took her place."

Alex was stunned at how casually she said that last sentence. Then again, one could argue that Melisandre did do more harm than good, even if she did resurrect Jon and bring him and Daenerys together. "I take it Herman and Eugene are no longer with us?"

"You assume rightly," Melanie revealed, "They both died a few years ago."

That was not an assumption; I've known about their demise for a while now. He was not ready to reveal that tidbit of information just yet, however. "How did you find out they were from the real world?"

"I first suspected when I noticed they spoke Ghiscari in a somewhat broken manner, despite the fact it was supposed to be their native tongue," Melanie recounted, "To confirm my theory, I casually made a reference to George R.R. Martin himself. That was when they dropped the charade and revealed to me that they were in the same situation as I."

"Interesting," Alex commented, "What happened after that?"

"The three of us spent the next few years searching the rest of the World of Ice and Fire for others like us," Melanie revealed, "We ultimately searched everywhere except Westeros, and we had no luck. That was when we first heard tales of how Gregor Clegane was diverging from canon, and we knew he had to have been from the real world, too. But before we could book passage to the Seven Kingdoms, Herman and Eugene both met an early death. As a result, I was travelling on my own for another year or two, until I met the Targaryens at Pentos."

"Fast forward a few months, and we get to when Melanie arrived here in the moat," Gregory stated, "She was the one who brought the existence of others from the real world to my attention. We logically concluded that if there were others still out there, they could only have been reborn as characters who were actually given names in the original series."

That makes sense, Alex supposed. "So, how did you conduct your investigation?"

"Well, at the time, I had already been in touch with Sarella Sand at the Citadel," Gregory recalled, "You remember the attempt to destroy my printing press which happened several months ago? It turns out the Conclave was behind it. I was having Sarella investigate the incident and the Archmaesters' motives regarding me. When Roger found out she was digging around on my behalf, he sought her out in effort to reach out to me."

"Having already spent five years at the Citadel, I managed to do plenty investigating of my own," Roger cut in, "I had picked up on something rather intriguing. All the people who were reborn into this world; their mothers suffered a miscarriage shortly before giving birth to them."

"Is that so?" Alex muttered in interest.

"Yes, it is," Roger confirmed, "By combining that with Gregory and Melanie's belief that we could only be reborn as canonically named characters, we were able to narrow the list of prospects down significantly. We managed to get it down to less than a hundred."

"When Bran arrived, he helped us narrow it even further," Melanie stated, "As you may recall from that meeting we had just before the Army of the Dead reached Moat Cailin, the Three-Eyed Raven is able to sense whenever someone from the real world is reborn in this one, but he is not able to identify them. He can only verify their existence."

"However, if a person with the source shares it to someone who does not, the Three-Eyed Raven is able to determine his or her identity," Bran Stark expounded, "That is how Ser Brynden Rivers managed to learn that Yezzan zo Qaggaz, Hizdahr zo Loraq, Gregor Clegane, Kinvara, Mollander, and Hodor all carried the source."

"Then it is a good thing I always kept the 'source' to myself," Alex commented. How foolish do you have to be to give away the secret to your power so willingly? "I wouldn't have thought the rest of you would be so careless."

"That 'carelessness' is what got us to where we are now," Gregory debated, "At any rate, of the seven people who crossed over into this world, you were the only one who was born before Bloodraven became the Three-Eyed Raven. Because of that, we were unable to determine the year of the last source holder's birth."

"But thanks to Bran, we at least had some grasp of the person's age," Melanie contended, "Because of that, we were able to cut the list of suspects in half. Soon after, we learned from Bran that the source holder was responsible for stealing the Horn of Joramun from the Silence, and thus, he must have been present during the sea battle of the coast of Fair Isle. That brought the total number of suspects down to just eighteen."

"Three of them – Lord Hoster Tully, Lord Jon Arryn, and the High Sparrow – all had extenuating circumstances at the time," Gregory pointed out, "Moreover, they were south of the Neck when the Others advanced on the Seven Kingdoms."

"The remaining fifteen, however, were all in Moat Cailin or somewhere north of it," Roger went on, "However, Lord Damon Marbrand, Ser Aenys Frey, Lord Gorold Goodbrother, and Lem Lemoncloak all fell during the first battle. Furthermore, Lord Gylbert Farwynd, Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Randyll Tarly, Lord Mace Tyrell, and Lord Yohn Royce also participated in that battle. While all this was going on, the final person with the source was in this building, murdering Stephen Ward and his guards. That eliminated the nine aforementioned men as suspects."

"The remaining six were Lord Wyman Manderly, Lord Sawane Botley, Ser Jared Frey, Arnolf Karstark, Lord Anders Yronwood… and you," Roger professed, "In the ten-hour interval between the moat's first battle and the second one, we did a few background checks. As it happens, you were the only one of those six whose retainers could not account for his whereabouts in the aftermath of the sea battle."

"And that's what led you to suspect me?" Alex presumed.

"Not quite," Gregory disclosed, "But something more we discovered did. Let us go back in time to about ten years ago. The beginning of the Great Summer, just after the end of Greyjoy's Rebellion. King Robert had just issued a decree that for any man who voluntarily joined the Night's Watch, his family would receive enough coin to last them for three years. That effectively increased enlistment in the Watch dramatically. Everybody was sending reinforcements to the Wall."

"I am well-aware of that," Alex muttered, "But what does it have to do with me?"

"Tyrion was one of the people we spoke to," Melanie elucidated, "He informed us that House Lannister sent a bunch of volunteers to the Night's Watch once. Interestingly, he told us that most of those men were loyal to you, not Tywin. He also recalled that when they were packing up for the journey north, they loaded a large chest onto a cart. He did not know what was in that chest, but he was certain it was not food or other provisions."

"Only two of those men managed to safely retreat to the south after the Wall collapsed," Roger recounted, "We managed to track them down, and when we brought them in for interrogation, they told us that they had been given orders to take that chest and bury it immediately north of the Wall in the haunted forest. They did so without question, and without anyone else finding out."

"We also spoke to the other survivors from Castle Black," said Gregory, "According to them, when they heard that horn blowing, the sound had come from somewhere north of Hardin's Tower. To go any further north than that, you'd either have had to have been standing on top of the Wall or in the lands beyond it. I don't have to tell you which of the two possibilities seems more likely."

"By putting all those details together, there was only one logical explanation," Bran Stark declared, "The Horn of Joramun was in that chest, and you had your men bury it for the Night's King to find."

Alex could see the logic in their reasoning. He smiled lightly and muttered "If only you figured this out a few months ago. Fortune would have gone in your favor instead of mine."

"Then you do not deny these allegations?" Gregory assumed.

"No, I do not deny them," Alex pronounced, "I did give the Horn of Joramun over to the Night's King."

"Why in hell's name would you even consider doing something so insane?" Roger spat heatedly.

"The three of you had your own agendas," Alex answered simply, "I had my own."

"What was yours?" asked Melanie, "To let the Others destroy the World of Ice and Fire, along with everyone and everything in it?"

"No, that was our late friend Stephen's objective," Alex stated, "I, on the other hand, had every confidence that the living would ultimately emerge victorious over the Army of the Dead, regardless of how strong or immense the Army of the Dead may have been."

"That does not justify your decision to aid and abet the Night's King," Gregory argued.

"Is that what you think I was doing?" Alex muttered exasperatedly, "While you are under no obligation to believe anything I say, I assure you I never once sided with the Night's King. I only gave him the Horn of Joramun to speed up our final confrontation with him. After all, one way or another, the Others would have found a way to get past the Wall. But make no mistake; I always believed in humanity and that it would triumph over its undead foe. Can any of you say the same?"

"I admit I had moments of doubt, but I never lost faith," Roger proclaimed.

"Neither did I," Gregory murmured, "Even though the odds were always stacked highly against us."

"Truthfully, I've often speculated that we were brought here to ensure that pointless struggles – such as the War of the Five Kings – would be averted, and casualties would be kept to a minimum," Melanie contended, "Naturally, we were going to suffer heavy losses during the Long Night in any case, but they're considerably lower in this world than they would have been in the series' original timeline."

"All because of the four of us," Alex debated.

"I would say you did more harm than good," Bran Stark countered, "And unlike these other three, your route was far more selfish, greedy, and malicious in nature. After all, your final act before you were apprehended was to arrange the death of your own nephew."

"I cannot deny that," Alex admitted. Even if I hadn't fucked that up, I would have ended up here anyway. Instead, I walked right into Gregory's trap.

"What were you hoping to accomplish by murdering Tyrion?" Roger queried.

"I'd have thought that be obvious," Alex pronounced, "With him dead, the only thing that would have stood between me and the lordship of Casterly Rock was his son. But that was only a minor setback. Soon enough, I would have found a way to do away with Duncan and his mother, as well."

"So, you were hoping to become the head of House Lannister?" Melanie conjectured.

"Well, of course," Alex affirmed, "That was always my ultimate goal. That's also why I did everything else I did. I wished to become the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and the Warden of the West. That was all I ever wanted."

"I see," Gregory muttered, "You're like a less ambitious yet more cautious version of Littlefinger."

"Thank you; I'll take that as a compliment," said Alex, "He was always one of my favorite characters. Up until the point of his demise, that is. Unlike me, he didn't know how to accept his fate when his time had finally come."

"So, power was all desired," Roger noted.

"That's correct," Alex remarked, scowling a bit, "You three still don't understand, do you? This is all just a game. A test, if you would. Whoever or whatever brought us to the World of Ice of Fire, it must have done so for a reason. I say that reason is simply to determine what people from the real world would do if they were thrust into an abnormal situation such as this one."

"You think we're nothing more than guinea pigs?" said Melanie.

"Or test subjects?" Roger commented.

"Either's equally possible," Alex contended.

"He may have a point," said Bran Stark, "After all, having prior knowledge of this world is what enabled the four of you to endure it for as long as you have. It was also what allowed Stephen Ward to pass himself off as Hodor. Most of all, it was how you were able to affect changes in this world's story. Whether or not those changes were ultimately for the betterment of the Known World, it would not be outlandish to assume that the gods are studying you."

"I can see why you would be led to that conclusion," said Gregory, "Be that as it may, I'm not too partial to the concept that we were brought here as part of an experiment. While it may explain a few things, it would still leave a lot of unanswered questions. Plus, I've never been fond of the idea that I'm not in control of my own fate."

"Well, in the end, I suppose it doesn't even matter," Alex pronounced, "There are only a few things I know for certain. One is that nothing in this franchise will ever be the same as it was in canon."

"Indeed not," Roger conceded, "While we're on that subject, I don't suppose you know how the series actually ended? The three of us all died sometime before the show's final season aired and the last two books were published."

"Nope," Alex confessed, "Only Stephen knew that. I was tempted to satisfy my curiosity just before I killed him. Alas, he was about as cooperative with me as he was with you."

"That's one thing I still don't understand," Melanie uttered, "Why did you kill him?"

"The same reason I killed your friends Herman and Eugene," Alex responded bluntly.

That statement succeeded in bringing a look of utter bewilderment onto the faces of the other four people in the cell.

"Excuse me?" Roger murmured, astonishment evident in his voice.

"Allow me to explain," Alex stated calmly, "Since I have been alive in this world the longest, there was once a time when I believed I was the only person that had crossed over from the real world. Back then, I thought this whole place was all for me. Then, a little less than two decades past, Gregor Clegane did something extremely inconsistent to his character. When the Sack of King's Landing transpired, he did not kill Elia and her children. He saved her. I suspected he may have saved Rhaenys and Aegon, as well, even though I had no way to confirm that. Regardless, that was when I realized I was not alone."

"That doesn't explain why you killed the others," Melanie snapped crossly.

"I'm getting to that," Alex insisted, "You three may have no issue with the fact that there are others from the real world. As for me, I couldn't abide the notion that there were others like me out there. I wanted to be the only person with the source."

"Why?" Gregory enquired softly.

"It was the only way I could reassert my dominance over the rest of the World of Ice and Fire," Alex responded.

Gregory, Melanie, Roger, and Bran Stark just stared at him in complete silence for about a minute.

"You are mad," Bran Stark solemnly announced. Mad I may be, but that can be seen as another word for 'ingenious.'

"I can actually see why he would be led to think that," Greogry confessed. When he saw the looks Melanie, Roger, and Bran gave him, he hastily added "That does not mean I approve of his actions. I most certainly do not. In fact, if you were so determined to remove everyone else who had been reborn into this world, why didn't you ever make a move against me?"

"Oh, I would have eventually," Alex asserted, "Ever since you formed the Legion, you were always too high profile. Any attempt on your life would have attracted too much negative attention. Aside from that, in order to get anywhere close to you, I would have had to make my way through your private little army. Thus, I chose to bide my time and wait for the best opportunity to strike. Yet it never came. I was hoping you might perish during the final battle with the Others, but I was not so lucky."

"How fortunate for me," Gregory uttered drily. He then leaned closer, narrowed his eyes, and said "Are you truly responsible for the deaths of Hizdahr zo Loraq and Yezzan zo Qaggaz? Or are you just making empty boasts?"

"I never take credit for things I did not accomplish on my own," Alex claimed, "You see, ever since Robert's Rebellion, I've had a number of my retainers scouring the Known World, keeping an eye out for others who have been reborn. Needless to say, I couldn't tell them about the real world. Instead, I simply instructed them to look for anyone who behaved in a manner contradictory to others of their standing or background. Most of their findings resulted in dead-end leads. However, one of the parties who travelled all the way to Slaver's Bay turned up a promising lead."

"What do you say to that, Bran?" Roger interjected, turning to the youngest person in the cell, "Were there actually Lannister retainers in Slaver's Bay when Hizdahr zo Loraz and Yezzan zo Qaggaz died?"

The Three-Eyed Raven leaned against the massive direwolf, and he opened his third eye. Everyone watched him as his pale eyes stared into empty space for a while. When he returned to his body a few minutes later, he announced "Because both of them had the source, I cannot see the exact conditions of their deaths. But yes; there were in fact House Lannister retainers in Slaver's Bay at the times of their deaths. I saw half of them paying one of Yezzan's servants to lace his food with a compound that would accelerate his disease. I saw the other half paying off an assassin to deal with Hizdahr."

"I did advise my men to be discreet," Alex said smugly.

"If that's all true, why did they spare me?" Melanie inquired.

"They weren't going to," Alex informed him, "You simply managed to slip through their fingers."

The woman in red clenched her fists and stepped closer to him. "You bastard…"

Roger gently seized Melanie from behind and urged her "Don't let him get to you. He's not worth it."

"Oh, I'm not worth it, am I?" Alex mumbled angrily, "Well then, since I'm about to be led to my death anyway, I'm going to go ahead and let all the truths come forward. The scandal of Jaime and Cersei's supposedly incestuous relationship? That was my doing. I had one of my men pass the rumor on to the High Sparrow in effort to draw a wedge between the Faith Militant and the royal family. Jaime's death? Also my doing. I told Flement Brax that Jaime had been having an affair with his wife, Morya Frey, and I gave him some very compelling evidence to support this claim. The evidence was fabricated, of course, but it was credible enough that Flement bought it. That ultimately drove him to cut Jaime's throat right after the Wall fell. To keep Flement from talking, I made sure he didn't come back alive, either."

"Is that supposed to shock us?" Gregory muttered, as though he could not care less, "Even before we came to this cell, we already knew you were somehow involved in those fiascos. It makes little difference to us that you were actually the mastermind behind them."

"Oh, I was the mastermind behind much more than that," Alex announced, "You remember the Pentoshi Bloodbath? Tywin may have been the one who orchestrated it, but you do you think was the one who gave him the idea for it in the first place?"

Everyone froze at that. Alex could not help but smirk when he saw the dumbfounded expressions across their faces. "That's right. The Bloodbath was all my doing. I consider it my proudest achievement. Not because of all the people who died, but because of the damage it dealt to Tywin's reputation. You see, I spent the first five decades of this life playing the part of the dutiful younger brother. I always supported and respected Tywin's decisions. I gave him good counsel whenever he asked for it, and I never disobeyed his commands. He may have never fully trusted anyone in his whole life, but I was probably the one who gained his trust the most. He had no idea that I was secretly plotting against him the entire time. As such, when I proposed the Bloodbath to him, he never once suspected that he was actually helping me arrange his own downfall. Better yet, he was all too eager to go along with the Bloodbath."

"Then the Pentoshi Bloodbath really was doomed to fail from the start," Roger thought aloud.

"Of course, it was," Alex confirmed, "At times, Tywin had his own doubts of its success, but all it took was a few compelling counterarguments from me to sway his mind."

"You mean you massacred dozens of innocent people just to discredit Tywin Lannister?" Gregory muttered in a disgusted tone.

"That's right," Alex answered plainly, "In hindsight, I would say my plan worked out wonderfully."

Again, an interval of unpleasant quietness came over the cell. While it lasted, Alex noted the different expressions on the others' countenances. Bran was baffled, Roger was appalled, Melanie was horrified, and Gregory was outraged.

Eventually, Gregory stomped forward with his arm outstretched. He seized Alex by the throat and lifted him into the air. Alex struggled to break free of his grip, but the taller man was much too strong. The most he could do was claw at his gauntleted hand and kick at his armored chest.

"Put me the fuck down!" Alex shouted demandingly.

"Oh, I'll put you down, alright," Gregory mumbled through gritted teeth, "We are done here. You've overstayed your welcome in this world. To allow you to remain alive in it any longer would be an insult to the rest of its inhabitants."

He then roughly set Alex back down on his feet. Alex coughed violently and gasped rapidly to catch his breath and regain his bearings.

Before he had a chance to compose himself, Gregory seized him again, this time by the arms. He then signaled for Roger to approach. The novice from the Citadel did so, removing a pair of shackles from his robes in the process.

Gregory held Alex's hands behind his back, and Roger fastened the shackles around his wrists. The latter of them claimed "Originally, we were going to allow you to go to your death unbound, provided we deemed you stable and docile enough to comply with us. But it's evident now that you are far too dangerous for us to let you go about unrestrained, even if you are under heavy guard."

"How wise of you," Alex commented disinterestedly.

Once the shackles were secure, Melanie brought her hand up to her pendant and pressed down on it again. Straightaway, she transformed back into Melisandre.

Likewise, Roger became Mollander, Gregory became Gregor Clegane, and Alex became Kevan Lannister. Bran Stark walked over to the door of the cell and knocked on it four times. That must have been the sign for the guards to open it up, as Kevan heard the bolt being turned.

"Let's go," the Mountain muttered tersely, giving the blond knight a good shove.

Bran Stark and the massive direwolf left the cell first. They were followed by Melisandre. Mollander and Lord Gregor Clegane stood on either side of Ser Kevan Lannister, and they forced him out of the cell. He went along without putting up any resistance, but their handling of him was still rather rough.

A few minutes later, Ser Kevan found himself outside the Reproach Tower. This was his first glimpse of the outside for the first time in eleven days. And, apparently, it'll be my last.

He was ushered to the main courtyard of Moat Cailin. On the way there, a great many people flashed him dirty glares. Many hurled harsh profanities his way. Some even threw rocks at him. But he gave no reaction to any of these attacks on his person. I won't let them see me break. They shall not have that satisfaction.

When they reached the courtyard, a large crowd was already assembled. Ser Kevan recognized many of the faces. He saw several of his house's bannermen, including Lord Andros Brax, Lord Gawen Westerling, Lord Antario Jast, Ser – now Lord – Addam Marbrand, and Lord Sandor Clegane and his wife Lady Obara. His younger brother Ser Gerion Lannister was there, as well. But he stood apart from the other Westerlords. Instead, he stood with Willas Tyrell, Prince Oberyn Martell, Allard Seaworth, Ser Lothor Brune, and all the other members of the Legion's secret council. Quite a crowd, it appears my execution is to be made a spectacle of.

Ser Kevan gazed around the vicinity, and everywhere he looked, he saw nothing but hatred, disdain, and wrath. That did not bother him in the slightest. He had expected to be received this way. Besides, my first death wasn't the end. Who's to say this one will be, either? For all he or anyone else knew, there was yet another life waiting for him after this. If so, I wonder which franchise I'd be reborn into next. I was always quite partial to SPN and TWD.

At any rate, Gregor Clegane, Melisandre, and Mollander led Kevan Lannister to the very center of the courtyard. There they left him, and then they went to join the assemblage. Mollander stood with some of his fellow maesters. Melisandre stood beside Allard. The Mountain stood with his mother Lady Daliah Clegane, his wife Lady Dacey, their five children, and his sister Ellyn, along with her husband and son.

Even Lord Tyrion Lannister, who had admired Kevan all his life, clearly held nothing but contempt for him now. A shame, really. I always liked Tyrion. But alas, he was an obstacle to my plans, and he had to be dealt with. He's just lucky I failed.

On the other side of the courtyard, the Targaryens were gathered together. Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys all stood in front of Eliaxes, Draegar, and Ygrenyon, whose wing appeared to have recovered. Next to them were Eddard Stark, Lyanna Stark, Benjen Stark, Catelyn Stark, the other four Stark children, and the house's six pet direwolves. It appears the pack is now whole at last.

After Bran Stark and the father direwolf rejoined the rest of House Stark, Lord Gregor announced "Kevan Lannister, you have been found guilty of numerous crimes against the people of Westeros, including – but not limited to – murder, conspiracy, arson, theft, destruction of the Wall, kinslaying, treason, and manipulation of your position for your own selfish gain."

Like you are in any position to judge me. Surely you don't expect me to believe you never used your own abilities to get what you wanted. Although he had those thoughts, Kevan said nothing. He just stood there and waited for his end to come.

However, he quickly noticed something was amiss. There was no headsman in the courtyard. Nor were there some gallows with a readied noose. In fact, as far as he could tell, there was not a drawn sword or rope to be seen anywhere in the area. What are they waiting for?

Then Lord Eddard Stark stepped forward. The father direwolf padded forth alongside the Warden of the North, who then declared "The bulk of Ser Kevan's crimes were committed here in the North. Thus, while it is Lord Gregor's directive to apprehend criminals, it falls to House Stark to punish those that are caught in the North."

"Then you'll be the one to end my life?" Kevan Lannister assumed.

"Not I," Lord Eddard announced, "I have always said that the man who gives the sentence should swing the sword. That has not changed; I still very much believe and practice that myself. Be that as it may, the whole of the North was affected by your transgressions. No one man can take it upon himself to reprove you for what you have done. Therefore, I will not be the one to deliver your execution. Instead, that task goes to the embodiment of my house."

The embodiment? What the hell does that-?

Ser Kevan promptly got his answer. Right then, the father direwolf bared his fangs and stepped closer to the father of his children's masters and mistresses. That was when it dawned on Kevan Lannister just what method of execution they had in mind for him. Oh, fuck, no…

Lord Eddard calmly turned to the father direwolf, and he told him quietly "Deliver my justice, Great Frost."

The father direwolf gave a slight nod, as though he actually understood the Lord Paramount of the North. Then he focused all his attention on Kevan Lannister. Without any warning whatsoever, he charged forward and lunged at the blond knight.

The last moments of Ser Kevan Lannister's second life were filled with blood, intestines, the crunching of bones, the gashing of teeth, and a plethora of gut-wrenching screaming. All he felt was pain. Terrible, inexplicable, unfathomable pain.