31

Due to a great amount of response to last chapter, we've added a last minute POV to this chapter in the week. This situation was something I had hoped to avoid doing entirely but it would have been worse just to leave things ignored and unanswered.

Chapter Text

Bran

My beloved brother, Bran

Jon told me that you have a magical ability to see through the memories of history. I need your help to find a broken sword that once belonged to House Targaryen. Upon it is written a piece of a prophecy that completes the other half I have found that regards a Prince who was Promised. It is vital to Jon and the war against the Night King.

I pray that you and Rickon are doing well. When we return I will hug you tighter than I ever have. I love you both.

Sansa

A broken sword, she had to be referring to Lightbringer. He only saw the sword once, but with the information Sansa sent him, his trail for answers to prophecy was refined to a point. Brienne wheeled him to the Godswood, and Bran entered into the sight the moment they reached the heart tree.

"Bran?" He called around him in the godswood, standing next to himself. "Bran?" He knew his voice could echo in memories, so Bearded Bran should be able to hear him and the other way around. But there was no reply.

'That's alright,' Bran thought, 'I can do it myself.' He shook off a strange feeling of familiarity that coursed uncomfortably under his skin and returned to the day he first saw the legendary sword.

The heroes of old stood around the table as though Bran had only blinked from the time he first watched them. Still in the same places, Azor took forth one piece, the one with the hilt. "We will remember this day, always. And I offer you the other half, so when the Night King returns, our families shall reunite with these blades and stand together."

King Brandon took the other blade and held it up. "We will forever stand against the Night King and never forget. Our descendants will know our legend. Winter is Coming." Bran touched the blade Azor was holding and felt a great pull into the sight as the power rushed over him, carrying him through the current of memory and time.

He was at a rocky hillside, outside of a large home built into the hill. Bran walked up to the window, cautious but eagerly curious. He peered inside and saw a much older Azor reading a raven scroll.

"He did it," Azor whispered. He sat back and sighed out, in great joy and relief. He looked at the scrolls, and then to the broken half of Lightbringer resting on a finely carved swordstand. He looked again at the scroll and then to a set of tools on another table. Bran's eyes locked on the blade of the sword as the world around faded into dust only to reconstruct into a forge and a blacksmith was engraving lettering onto the blade, just like the flashes of his vision he shared with Bearded Bran.

The moment the last letter was carved into the steel, the world around faded into dust again, all except for the blade. Shadows of hands of men touched and handled the sword, passing it from one set to another, from father to son until it stopped.

The world became an eloquent bedroom richer than anything he had ever seen, it made the fineries of the Red Keep look next to nothing compared.

Upon a large bed was an older woman with her head hanging back over the side, her throat cut and blood had drained from her pale body. Across the bed was a man on the floor, backed against the wall from a hooded stranger who had the blade in hand.

Without hesitation, the stranger raised the blade and moved down to kill the man, but the moment Lightbringer's tip touched the man, the world again faded into dust except for the blade.

And once again, Bran found himself in a smithy but one far greater than any to have been born for crafting. Standing next to a stone forge carved into a dragon's head with the coals and fire resting in its mouth was the stranger with his hood down and a smith. The stranger handed the blade off and the smith began his work, breaking the hilt from the blade and setting it in a kiln. The metal began to glow and slowly deform. The writing upon the steel prophesying the most important event to come become nothing as the steel liquified and was poured into a crucible.

"You fools," Bran whispered under his breath as he watched the smith pour the steel into two molds for daggers, no doubt for the murderer to kill easier in the shadows.

So that was that, the blade was destroyed but the prophecy survived through the Red Religion. The world faded again and now he was back in the Red Keep's library, but he knew this wasn't the present. This was still a memory, but recent. Before him were two women sitting together at a table filled with many books and parchments filled with notes.

"The Prince who was Promised." Sansa repeated, bewildered. "Was it a Valyrian or could it be anyone?"

"I don't know," Daenerys set the parchment down. "According to the priestess I met, it's been a question that many have found different answers to. First it was Stannis Baratheon, then someone claimed it was me, and Melisandre of Asshai believes it to be Aegon. And then there are those who believe it's not just a Prince, but a Prince and a Princess."

"There's a note written here in the book," Sansa's finger trailed over to a small collection of handwritten notes on the side of the page. "When two are one, truth is complete. I think there is more to the words on the sword, but it's written on the other half."

Bran looked at the book and felt foolish when he saw the image of the sword. "You've got to be joking…" He sighed out in embarrassment. The half he looked at was the half with the prophecy they already knew about. The Prince who was Promised shall bring the Dawn, as the notes had translated. It was the half that stayed with House Stark he had to find…

His breath was caught when he noticed the air had turned thick and misty. It was cold. But how? He wasn't supposed to be able to feel anything in the memory's environment. The only other time he did was when…

"Damn," Daenerys cursed as her teeth chattered, "I'm still not used to the sudden colds here yet."

"This is only the end of autumn. Wait until the real cold comes," Sansa replied

Bran began to shiver and looked around the room. He didn't see any sign of the Night King. Was he about to be pulled into another place like he was the last time?

Every hair on his body stood up when a chilling voice echoed from behind him. "I found you…" the words had no sound, for they were not spoken through mouth but through mind.

Bran spun around as saw the Night King standing in the center of the library. A blank expression gazed at him, but the eyes of ice froze his will to move. The faint sounds of cracks came as those pale lips curled into a smile.

The Night King suddenly darted forward with his hand outstretched to him. The sudden action made Bran react the only way he could as he screamed in terror. He stepped back and felt himself fall out of the memory.

Bran awoke from the sight with a start, gasping for air frantically. The Children stood up in alert.

"What happened?" Leaf asked.

"He found me," Bran replied, "the Night King. He found me in the sight."

"Did he touch you?"

"No," Bran said as he checked the skin of his arm where the Night King reached. He became somewhat relieved of the experience when he realized his escape went clean. He looked at Leaf. "I was looking for a broken sword. Lightbringer."

"Azor's."

Bran nodded. "What happened to the piece that Brandon Stark kept?"

"We do not know. It was in House Stark's possession for many years before we fled north when the Andals came. Why do you seek it? The blade failed its purpose."

"It was given a new purpose. I saw Nissa give her life to learn of the Prince who was Promised. Azor passed the blade to his son who had the prophecy engraved on it. But that much is already known. The other half is the key to understanding it fully. I have to go back."

'You can't,' came Bearded Bran's voice, startling Bran.

"Where were you?" Bran asked.

'Busy. But you can't go back to look for the blade. The Night King knows you're looking for it and he's waiting. If he touches you, then everything will have been for nothing and you will have to die.'

The words stung to hear. Bran's fingers curled on the arms of his chair. "If that were to happen, then I would make sure that it ends with me. I won't let myself become him."

Without a second thought, Bran returned into the sight at the meeting after the Long Night, where he had just been moments ago. King Brandon and Azor were lifting their halves of the blade up at each other. As Bran reached out and touched the half Brandon carried, he caught a glimpse of Leaf between the men staring off in utter terror.

"He is here," Leaf shivered.

Bran was pulled into the memories of the broken sword immediately, following it as it was passed down from father to son until he was brought atop the Wall itself. He witnessed two men fighting a ferocious duel, one dressed in boiled leather bearing the direwolf of House Stark and carrying a great iron sword, the other dressed in a black cloak and armor of the same color, a man of the Night's Watch. His appearance was skeletal and pale yet he fought with such strength.

The Stark suddenly parried the Black warrior's sword and with a hard kick, sent his foe tumbling down off the wall to the north screaming. He turned his attention to Bran, drawing forth the broken sword and running at Bran with a great and powerful war cry. But he stopped a few feet short and instead of attacking Bran, brought the blade down into a figure almost invisible next to the snow and ice. A woman of white skin like the White Walker's but fairer. The broken sword impaled her chest and a great scream filled the air as she crumbled into bits of ice.

Across from the Stark, the Night King appeared from behind a brush of snow that blew by and was running as fast as he could toward Bran. Bran lunged forward and touched the sword, following the course of the memories following.

It was many years later now, summertime at Winterfell. The King of Winter was in a tower Bran recognized but only knew it in its broken state after lightning tore it down. A raven rested upon the King of Winter's shoulder as he held the broken blade in his hands and a raven scroll in the other.

"A marker must be made. The North has not forgotten."

Bran didn't have long to listen. The Night King appeared around the corner of the door to the room with the same blank expression on his face as before. 

Bran immediately touched the sword, watching the world around fade away as the Night King had come mere feet from touching him. The blade remained and began to change. letters began to engrave itself upon the steel in a language that Bran could not read.

A sudden force ripped Bran from the sight and threw him on his back. He scrambled to his feet immediately and looked around for the Night King but did not see him. But Bran did not relax, he kept his guard up for the apparition that could appear at any time.

The North was gone and now he was on a beach that rested underneath a rocky face of cliffs. But in front of him was the entrance to a dark cave. He felt a pull to go in, maybe to hide from the Night King, or to see what was inside. It only grew greater when he saw a faint flicker of light within.

Bran jogged quickly into the cave, following the light as best he could. He couldn't see anything around him when he got deeper into the cave as darkness covered him. He could only follow the flickers of light. Oddly, he didn't feel anything catch his feet as he did his best to navigate in the cave. It felt like he was hovering rather than walking.

Bran finally caught sight of a man venturing deep into the caves and followed close by. Now illuminated by torchlight, Bran could see there was a gather of shimmers everywhere on the stone walls of the cave. Dragonglass filled the cave in such vast quantities that Bran didn't realize existed. It always seemed like a scarce resource in his travels until now.

The man Bran followed came to a stop at a wall filled with many cave drawings of familiar patterns and images of men, children, and the White Walkers. The man brushed his fingers upon the spiral symbols, breathing in soft air as though to keep himself quiet in a reverent place.

"One mind over many…" The man whispered and then got to his knees and began digging into the sand at the base of the art. He took forth a small wooden chest and buried it into the hole he just made. "Winter is Coming…"

"No!" A voice echoed from behind. Bran spun around and saw Bearded Bran step in front of him as the Night King had reached out to lay his hands on him. Instead, Bearded Bran caught the touch and tackled the Night King to the ground. "Leave!"

Bran did not hesitate to leave the sight. The last thing he saw was the Night King grabbing Bearded Bran's neck and the skin began to turn black.

A great breath of air entered Bran's lungs as though he had been choking. He fell forward into the snow and coughed. He was swarmed by the Children who helped him back up.

"What happened?" Pinenut asked.

"The Night King…" Bran almost wheezed, "he chased me in the sight. He tried to keep me away from the blade but my other self got in the way. I have to help-"

"No!" Leaf hissed. "You cannot let him near you at the risk of being marked."

"But-" Bran couldn't get more than a word out before Leaf drew the dragonglass dagger and pressed it up at his neck.

"Back away from him!" Brienne drew Oathkeeper, but Acorn used her spear to whack Brienne behind the knee and trip her onto her back. Pinenut and Acorn had the tips of their spears aimed at Brienne's neck and kicked Oathkeeper away.

"Now you listen," Leaf said calmly but with much anger withheld, "everything your cousin and other self have done will mean fuck all if you get marked. You'll have ruined everything by being a reckless idiot. If your other self dies, then it was a good sacrifice to keep you untouched. One more reckless act, and I'll make sure none of us suffer through it. No more Three Eyed Raven, and no more Brandon Stark. Do you understand?"

Bran glared at her and swallowed. "Yes," he said without volume.

Leaf lifted her dagger away from Bran's neck, Pinenut and Acorn backed away from Brienne who retrieved Oathkeeper and held it up at them on guard.

"If you try that again," said Brienne, "your heads will decorate spikes on these walls." She repositioned herself across from the Children next to Bran, keeping Oathkeeper out of its scabbard, tip in the snow and hands resting on the hilt.

Bran sighed, relieving himself of the tension. "I know where the blade is now. It's in the caves on Dragonstone." 

Leaf shook her head. "If you know where it is, he'll be watching for you. You must find someone else."

"Then I need a raven sent to Jon as soon as possible." But even then, time was of the essence and a raven would take days to get to King's Landing and days more for Jon to get to Dragonstone if he could.

There must be a way he could get to the cave. If Summer were on Dragonstone he could warg into him and dig it out.

Bran's mind quieted as he took a risk at the idea of finding a person to warg into. But then he'd create another Hodor and he did not have it within him to willingly do such a thing to someone else.

If not warging and not using the sight, what could he do?

'I have an idea,' Bearded Bran's voice came, exhausted and weary.

"Are you alright-"

'Shut up,' he said harshly, 'and do exactly what I tell you. This is going to use up a great deal of my power.'

Theon

Ocean water sprayed up as the tides crashed against the rowboat, dowsing the Ironborn in cold water. But they were not petty mainlanders who flinched at the gentle spray of the sea. They longed for the taste of salt on the water.

It had been decided that the absence of Euron near the eastern coast and the Narrow Sea was too much to be ignored. Euron had his fleet of a thousand ships, he had most of the Iron Islands behind him, but still the largest fleet in the world was nowhere to be caught in the Spider's web. Even with the Dornish and Velaryon armadas joined with their force, Euron still outnumbered them three to one and thus they needed to be on alert.

Despite Grey Worm's insistence that Yara be granted this task by Queen Daenerys first, Yara ignored him. Yara was her own Queen and did not answer to a commander. But, for the alliance to stand, Theon was chosen to stay and lead in her place with the majority of the fleet.

"Hurry up!" Yara barked out. "The tide's leaving faster than the whores you had last night!" Her crew pushed the second to last boat into the water, catching the pull of the current and rowing out to the Black Wind.

Theon ran over with the rest of her crew to help get the last boat into the water from Dragonstone's beach.

"Brother!" Yara called, stopping him from joining Tris, Qarl, and the others. Theon waited as Yara approached him. "Keep these pricks from the Driftmark in line, alright? They can't even sail a slough down a creek."

Theon's face twisted. "It's not like you to be so nice to strangers, Yara." The Velaryons and that captain of theirs, Aurane, were proving to be quite the high noses once he was introduced to them. For some reason, because the prick was a Valyrian, he thought himself above everyone else. Grey Worm regarded him as a similar person as the sellsword captain formerly in service to the Queen. "Their boats are far too pretty for them to risk such a dangerous voyage."

Yara smiled at him. "There's my brother. Do your best to smooth my departure over with Daenerys when she gets here. But if the order comes for sails to set and swords to be drawn, don't wait for me, alright?"

Theon nodded and Yara slapped him on his shoulder with a smirk.

"And I'm making you Captain of the Iron Vengeance. Think you can handle her?"

"The Vengeance?" Theon confirmed. If the Black Wind was gone, the Iron Vengeance was the second best galley in the fleet. It was built by their grandfather, Quellon, and was one of the few ships that stood up to Stannis Baratheon during the Rebellion and escaped.

Yara only nodded and the two of them rushed over to get the rowboat into the tide. Theon took his spot next to Tris and heaved.

As the underbelly of the boats started to catch on the water, Theon saw something in the corner of his eye, some whelp just watching them.

He looked over to shout at the fool for just lazing around with a hand on his cock, but his words were lost and his body froze when he saw who it was.

There on the beach, miraculously standing up on both legs, was Bran. But he was far older than the last time he ever saw him, and he cut his hair. But the nose, the chin, it was all the same.

Bran was glaring at him with steel eyes. He then raised his left arm and pointed northwards, looking up the beach.

"Theon!" Tris called, taking Theon's attention back to the boat. "we're not in yet!"

Theon quickly looked back to where he saw Bran on the beach, but there was no one, not even a footprint. He shook his head and returned to the boat, helping with the last and final push.

Yara and all with her hopped into the boat with the exception of Theon and Qarl who was remaining as first mate of sorts to Theon.

"What is dead may never die!" Theon beat the armor over his chest and raised his fist up and Yara and her crew responded in kind.

"What is dead may never die!" Yara raised her fist up.

Theon breathed as a feeling that was both uneasy and proud befell him. Euron proved enough to be cunning and there was no denying that he was indeed one of the best captains in the world. But he knew Yara was better. She wouldn't fail and she was smart. But still, ten ships looking for a thousand, who would be found first? If she fell, then what was next? He couldn't truly lead his people, not like her. He was just a stand-in for political reasons.

"Well the day's ahead of us," Qarl said, "we should get the men together for drills now."

Theon nodded and started his walk back to the castle with Qarl, but then looked back to where he had seen Bran.

He was pointing north. But looking down the beach now, there wasn't anything there unless you went a mile to the caves with the Dragonglass.

"Captain?" Qarl asked.

"You get started," Theon ordered, "I need to check something first."

Qarl nodded, unsure of what it could be, and went off alone to his duties while Theon set off up the beach. The length of the walk gave him time to clear his head and this feeling of doubt in him.

It didn't take long to find the cave. The place was still being mined day after day by the men from the North and the Night's Watch. One of the agreements Daenerys had with Lady Melisandre and Lord Bronn was that the mining was to be undisturbed.

Just outside of the caves was a large wooden pavilion erected and tables underneath where several men sat around, eating. One of them pointed at Theon when he saw him coming and the other men turned to look. Since their clothes weren't black, they were probably Northmen.

Theon stopped and kept his distance once he was close enough.

"The fuck you want, squid?" One of them asked, the only one without a thick beard.

For the love of the Drowned God, he didn't actually know what he was doing here. Following some trick his mind played on him?

"You haven't seen a young man come here by chance, have you?" Theon asked openly.

"You mean him?" Another man pointed behind Theon who quickly turned his head to look only to find no one was there and the Northmen laughing together.

But the laughter suddenly stopped and turned into yells and curses. Theon turned back around and saw that a raven had flown under the pavilion and fluttered in front of the men, causing them to startle and swat at it.

Theon held back his desire to laugh out of fear they'd retaliate.

The raven had cleared away from the men and landed on a large boulder next to some crates of supplies for the mining.

"Dumb little shit!" A Northman shouted at the bird.

Theon watched it look at him while deciding whether or not to leave. He didn't trust his mind or his thoughts all the time, especially when his body started to feel things… things that made him feel like he was back in the room on the cross.

The raven croaked at him twice and then looked into the cave.

Something about this was strange, especially when the raven looked back at him and its eyes flashed deep white for a brief moment.

His breathing shivered and Theon wasn't sure what was happening.

The raven took flight over to a small protrusion in the rock and croaked again at Theon before looking into the cave. The Northmen had been watching and were just as confused as Theon was.

"What is this?" The beardless one asked aloud.

The raven and Theon locked eyes again and there was a feeling that was familiar, just like when he thought he saw Bran on the beach.

His body moved before he could think and he was walking over to the raven. As soon as he got within five paces, the raven took off into the entrance of the cave, but not too far that it disappeared in the shadows. Again, it croaked at him.

Something was not right with this bird… it was leading him inside.

Near Theon was an opened crate filled with torches and a flint stick nearby. He took one for himself and lit it before entering the cave and following the raven inside.

He passed by several men who stared at him, some shouting insults and telling him to get out. But Theon ignored them, pressing on inside. Surprisingly, it was getting warmer.

He got away from the main location that the mining was taking place at and came to a place that was almost secluded. He froze when he saw what the torchlight illuminated all across the rock before him.

He heard talk about the drawings in the caves, but never imagined this. The stone before him was completely covered with drawings and symbols made long ago. The light of his torch couldn't reach the art that was high above him.

Looking through the images, he found depictions of what had to be the First Men and others with them. But across on the other side of the wall was something that looked similar to men, but had white skin and bore blue eyes at him. He knew what they were when he saw them, but was terrified when he imagined what the real White Walkers were like in person. Jon knew. He fought them and was alive to tell the tale.

Theon's head fell. He didn't know if he had the strength or bravery to stand up against such monsters. He never had the strength to stand up to Ramsay. He'd only run like he always did. Run and find somewhere safe.

The raven croaked again and Theon saw it standing in the sand, pecking down. It croaked again and kept on pecking.

Taking the hint, Theon planted the torch in the sand and started to dig with his bare hands. The raven hopped away and watched him silently. Was this bird magical… or was there a warg within its mind?

It only took a few minutes before he felt his fingernails scrape against what had to be wood. He dug faster and found the top of a box. He smiled, almost filled with excitement as he dug faster. It wasn't a big chest, but nonetheless it was something hidden.

With enough of the sand gone, he was able to pull the whole thing out. The iron hinges had rusted greatly from the dampness of the sand and perhaps high tides of storms washing in seawater over the many hundreds or thousands of years, adding to the decay. Theon was a bit nervous though, since the rot of the chest was great, whatever it was inside could have been just as damaged unless it was a pure metal or jewels even.

The clasp holding the chest closed had rusted so great, it was practically fused with the other piece it held onto. But, such didn't matter. Theon gave a hard tug and the clasp broke through the wood. He tore it off completely and tossed it aside and opened the lid. The raven hopped over and perched on the edge of the chest, looking inside with Theon.

To great astonishment, the chest was empty except for grime and shriveled cloth.

Theon felt the urge to laugh, yell, and cry at the same time. Of course it would be empty. Why would he ever get to do or find something amazing? This was probably some joke Lord Bronn was doing to him. It just kept getting more and more elaborate.

His anger spiked within him and Theon picked up the chest, forcing the raven to fly off and away, and threw it at the wall with a yell. It broke into a dozen pieces and scattered on the sand. All he wanted now was something to drink and drown in.

Olenna

"Madness," Olenna said bluntly, "madness and stupidity." She grabbed her glass of arbor gold and drank deeper than manners expected of her in the presence of Lord Davos. "I never would have agreed to support Aegon if I knew things would come to this."

"So would a lot of others." Davos didn't shy from having a drink himself. "I fought hard with him to get the Wildlings to support Stannis to no avail, but back then he at least had a sensible position in the matter. Now he's just being absurd."

It was a hard matter to confront, especially with one as ominous as Aegon. But he has experienced something only one other man can describe. "I met with Ser Beric not too long ago. He was kind enough to divulge to me some of the darker realities of what it is to be brought back from death." Learning what she did, she wished she never asked. "He said every time it happened, a part of him was lost. What do you suppose Aegon lost?"

Davos sighed hard, almost slamming his glass down as he fell back against his seat. "I'd say the desire to be human. It's like he's simply a living tool that sometimes manages to fool others to think he's a man." He brushed a hand over his face, staring up at the canopy. "All that matters to him is the single purpose he was made for… maybe that's what he became."

A thought occurred to Olenna then. "Or perhaps what he saw in his visions was more than any man can bear, even someone as strong as him." The memory of the day the Night's Watchmen found her on the road came to her, that flash of seeing the Sept of Baelor exploding in wicked green flames. Knowing it could have been true frightened her more than anything in entire life had before. What terrors did Aegon see that made him who he is now?

Davos looked at her, considering the words thoughtfully. "He did say that we lost the war. What if sacrificing his chance of a life for himself is the only way to win?"

"Then he is a fool," Olenna replied sharply, "there are always other paths. But he refuses to see any except his own. But we cannot look for them unless he tells us what went wrong in the first place." She lifted her glass to take a drink, but paused and sat up, looking away to the gardens. Davos followed her gaze and saw Daenerys Targaryen's handmaiden walking along with Lord Varys.

Lady Missandei of Naath, another puzzle Olenna had yet to figure out. Daenerys' strongest supporter… not hard to imagine why, the tales of the Sack of Astapor being ones Olenna bore interest in even when Joffrey was on the Iron Throne. It didn't take long after the girl arrived in King's Landing for Olenna to wrangle the story about her from Tyrion over a glass of wine. The Imp loved to talk, after all. 

And yet, the memory of her words to the King stuck in the Queen of Thorns' mind. Another enigma, the quiet, pretty slave girl turned into someone with the stubbornness of Tywin… or even a bit of herself. It was rather intriguing. 

An opportunity presented itself to solve an unknown and remove an obstacle to the developing situations, as Sansa was doing with Daenerys herself. Olenna pointed a finger over and spoke to her guard. "Bring her here. I want a word with her."

The guardsmen promptly marched over and addressed the two councilors of Daenerys. The Spider bowed to the Lady of Naath and excused himself elsewhere while she followed over to Olenna and Davos.

Missandei walked over, escorted by the guard. She was even prettier close up, but wore a neutral mask. "You asked to see me, Lady Tyrell?"

The handmaid's tone was polite and proper. This didn't need to be antagonistic. "Would you care to join a pair of old ones for some wine and words, my lady?" The remark phased Davos an inch.

Her brow rose, but she nodded. "Very well." Lady Missandei took a seat across from Olenna. The servant at hand came forward and poured a glass of wine for her but the lady was very gentle about how much she drank. Either she was smart.. Or she was still unused to wine given the subtle reaction in the corner of her lips. 

From all there was to be seen from afar and now even with as little she has seen up close, Olenna could tell that this woman was not another prissy fool like so many Ladies of court she came across before. If there was peace between the two Targaryens, she hoped to see more of this girl in such better times. Decent company was hard to find after all.

Olenna resolved now to treat her as she would a highborn equal. "It's no secret that your Queen and you of her council are now aware of the sudden turn of events for Aegon." 

The young freedwoman ran her finger idly over the rim of her cup. "There have been many developments regarding Aegon."

"There have," Olenna allowed. "First allowing the Kingsguard the power of regicide. And now plans of abandoning the Seven Kingdoms. I'm curious, what do you make of it? What do you personally make of him?"

Lady Missandei eyed Olenna cautiously like she was an animal wary of another stalking her. She had keen senses at the very least. "King Aegon has certainly proven himself a far greater King than many before him."

Olenna spared a glance at Davos, whose wrinkles seemed to deepen as he frowned. She didn't frown, but merely leaned forward. "Diplomatic words, my Lady."

"They are true. His achievements of bringing the divided realm together peacefully was glorious and historical."

"But not as significant as your Queen, you believe?" Olenna sipped her wine. "To choose to follow her when given the chance of freedom over returning to your home after manumission suggests either a deep loyalty or a deep admiration."

Someone akin to the youth that Sansa used to be would have begun gushing, talking up a storm and divulging her inner thoughts. Lady Missandei showed herself to be guarded and diplomatic. "I feel the two of you wish to talk about something deeper than comparing our monarchs' achievements."

Olenna chuckled. "You are quite the sharp one, my dear.." She set down her glass. "Our King insisted on meeting Queen Daenerys with open arms and the bonds of kinship rather than war. Some advocated to raise the defenses, but again insisted it was not necessary."

"That was an intelligent decision," Missandei replied cryptically. "Woe to the ones to face three dragons and their mother."

Some might find that a threat. Olenna knew it rather to be a demonstration of strength. "My family and I have seen enough war, enough political games. They cost me my son, and nearly the lives of my granddaughter and grandson." Her eyes narrowed. "I have all the greatest personal reasons to seek the best means of survival through the war to come, and forgive me my Lady, but you could be an obstacle to that."

Her eyes narrowed in response. "I am unsure of what you mean."

"Oh, my dear, do not take me for a fool. I do not possess Little Birds, but that does mean I am deaf to the whispers of the castle."

Missandei didn't blink.

Davos, till now silent, cleared his throat. "Daenerys is the aunt of our King, and she is joined by much of your council in seeking an accord with him… all except for you it seems." 

"I have been nothing but polite to his Grace, and Lady Sansa."

"Your challenge to him at the initial audience says differently?" Missandei was silent as Davos accused her. "I've had to listen to many Lords of Westeros who took offense to your bold words."

"Men that were for years fighting each other suddenly choose to draw a line at bold words?"

It was a good defense. "Yes, yes, we're all bloody hypocrites," Olenna admitted. "However, timing is key. Diplomatic niceties still matter in Westeros. Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys still abide by them."

Missandei snorted. "The two of them would try to find a compromise as though matters of diplomacy were the same as mercantile business deals, even with the worst types. The masters of Yunkai and Astapor made them look like fools."

"I am aware," Olenna replied. "You opposed their efforts because you knew the true nature of those in Essos." Missandei was silent, but it was clear Olenna was right. "Perhaps you should hold the same humility over Westerosi matters."

"Men do not change. Their nature transcends cultures."

"True, true. But an individual will always be a different argument compared to the masses. An individual can be reasoned with, find insight, and listen while a crowd can only be as smart as the greatest fool among them. You seem to assume Aegon is like the masters of Slaver's Bay."

Missandei shook her head. "I never said he was."

Davos' voice rose, clearly having kept this in for a while. "And yet you delegitimize him and insult him in his own keep. In his own realm. He invites you into his house, and you disrespect him. Has he not treated you with dignity and peace? Is he not a King worthy of your respect?"

"He is nearly everything the people deserve of a King. Honorable, strong, brave, and good."

"Nearly?" Davos asked.

"Yes, nearly." She folded her hands together, a bit of a defensive stance. "He lacks true care for his people. From what I have seen, they are no different than farm animals to him, essential and under his care, but not something to love."

While Olenna was silent, listening, Davos visibly bristled. "And Daenerys has the capacity for that kind of thing?"

A small smile crossed the lady's lips. A triumphant one. "If you had seen her liberation of Yunkai, you would not think to ask. They offered her gold and ships to simply leave, but she insisted to stay and seek freedom for the chained within." Pure admiration in her voice, bordering on adoration. "The former slaves raised her high and named her Mother. They would die a hundred times over for her."

Olenna nodded. "Your loyalty to her is certainly deserved." She shifted in her seat. "But our loyalty to Aegon isn't?" 

There was a pregnant pause for a moment before Missandei spoke again. "He is brave, and devoted to what he believes are his duties. I have lived with many men in power who were absolute degenerates and lechers, and Aegon is not that." She pursed her lips. "But Aegon is nothing more than another convenience to the people here just as they are to him. His decision to run away after his war is further proof. A true King would never do such a thing when there are those who need him."

Davos cocked his head to Missandei. "Your point is a good one, I won't deny it. Though your support for Daenerys is a bit off putting, if you don't mind me sayin'. I felt like I was listenin' to Selyse Baratheon's devoted praises to the Lord of Light again."

Eyes downcast for a moment, it was clear she was thinking. "I was stolen from my home and enslaved when I was only seven years old," Missandei began, "the rest of my life was being someone else's property until I met Queen Daenerys for the first time. That day, I was able to be whole again. How would you see the person who restored your humanity back to you, my lord?" Davos said nothing. What could one say? 

"It is a life we will never know," Olenna finally said. "Aegon saved my family's future from extinction, but I do not fall to kiss his feet every time he walks by in a manner of speaking. A fool will surround themselves with others who nod their head to everything they say. And it's almost treachery for someone to be as willing to be just that for them. Has there never been a time when your Queen committed an action that you disapproved of?"

Lady Missandei went quiet, considering the question carefully which was enough of an answer. "There have been times that I have thought her actions to be wrong when she believed them to be right. But who she is now is a Queen who understands and learned from her mistakes."

"So that means she's immune to makin' more?" Davos asked, taking the words right out of Olenna's mouth.

"Of course not. However she is better equipped to handle them and will heed her council like a wise ruler should. From what I have heard, Aegon has shut out the voices of his council to his recent actions. Queen Daenerys is the one who deserved most to be on the Iron Throne."

Olenna almost could not believe the naivety of this young woman after hearing so many decisive thoughts. "My dear, the world has never cared who is deserving of what or else Ned Stark would still have his head. Your words make me worried about your Queen more than the sight of her with those dragons."

"Why is that?"

Olenna leaned forward. "People who believe they deserve greatness, glory, and respect in the world can become the most volatile when they are denied it when it does not come to them. It doesn't matter if they expected to receive it unconditionally or if they worked their entire life for it. Their emotions are not some that can be tempered down easily, and history is filled with those in power who spread their anger through destruction and war. Joffrey was the worst of them, but if Daenerys were to be denied all that she seeks to gain, would the realm be able to rest easy to the woman who commands dragons?" She paused as her own words repeated in her mind. Pieces of a puzzle seemed to begin falling into place.

If Aegon did trade the throne for an alliance and Daenerys could not gain the respect and love of the realms, would she be satisfied? Or would she only know the false love of those terrified to be at a dragon's mercy?

Davos pushed his glass aside and leaned forward, discomfort clearly in his eyes. "Stannis Baratheon was one of those types. He was a brilliant commander, a just man, had the claim to the throne that the Lannisters didn't, and had the support of many good men. But he let lies and prophecy take over his better sense out of desire for what he was convinced he was destined to be. Every action he took brought him further to his own demise. Thousands died for nothin', his own daughter was murdered at his command for nothin', and he died for nothin'. Are you not at all worried that kind of fate could befall your Queen if she leads herself because she 'deserves' what she seeks?" The way Davos stared down Missandei demanded an answer from her.

"I won't let that happen," Missandei told them, but fear was seeping into her words. "Until my last breath, I will never let that happen."

"And after your last breath?" Olenna pressed. "Will she be able to hold herself together if she loses the greatest voice of her circle?"

Missandei swallowed and her eyes fell to her. Suddenly, she stood from her seat. "Thank you for the wine." She left swiftly without another word.

Olenna almost felt a slight tinge of guilt for pushing such a harsh subject as far as they did, but it was necessary. The hardships that a woman like Daenerys would have to face if she sat upon the Iron Throne could be unyielding, and many would suffer if her fortitude broke.

Sansa

Terrifying, exhilarating, fantastic, and mortally frightening. Those were the least amount of words that Sansa could summarize the feeling of riding a dragon. Her mind had been racing with thousands of things when her ride was over. There was no end to just how incredible the feeling was.

But sadly, that marvelous experience was not one that lasted forever, and not one that could fix the problems that she had to face. It was a great disappointment that they returned. The morning started off so well too. A new draft of Jon's dictation for the Kingsguard new oath was made and ready for discussion and debate, the ships from Sea Dragon point bearing the weirwoods Jon had sent for finally arrived and both trees were successfully transplanted in their new homes, standing beautifully in both the Godswood of the Red Keep and the other in a reverent part of the city near the ruins of the Great Sept. And the shipments of gold from the Valyrian Steel sales were filling the coffers.

But then the news of Jon's intentions after his war was fought was unexplainable. The only consolation of this was that the news had not spread. It was kept confined. Very confined. As far as she knew, she, Olenna, and Davos were the only ones who were aware of this news… but Daenerys on the other hand, her entire council knew of it.

What was Jon thinking? After all they had worked for, he was just going to leave it all behind? He was being a fool. It made her blood boil.

"Don't tell me to be calm," Sansa hissed, storming down the corridor towards the royal chambers.

Sandor Clegane looked bored, but Sansa knew him. For someone who hated everything, he was concerned about her. "Fuck me if I tell anyone else to not be angry. Just don't be fuckin' stupid."

"Duly noted." She was not in the mood, not by a long shot. "How dare he? How dare that… that…"

"Do you want me to say it again?"

"Shut up." He did, idly looking to the side as he walked behind her. The Hound's reputation is enough to ward off anyone that dared to approach Sansa Stark without good cause. Her own death glare was enough to ward off those with good cause as well.

Ser Beric wasn't on duty that moment, but Ser Jaime and Ser Creighton knew her to be one of the few that could come upon the King unannounced. Thus they gave her a wide berth as she threw open the door, force slamming it against the wall. Jon stood at the head of his own map table, Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Yohn Royce, and her uncle Edmure Tully were with him. They were chattering about military movements, but the noise silenced all. "I wish to be alone with my cousin," she said. Politely, but with a firm steel underneath. A tone not to be trifled with.

Her uncle and Lord Royce looked uncomfortable, while Ser Loras gulped. All looked to the King, who met Sansa's gaze. His looked tired as he nodded. "Leave us." They obeyed. Uncle Edmure gave Sansa a worried expression as he did, but she merely gestured for him to go. She was in no mood for reassurance… at least not from him. "Yes, Sansa?" Jon asked as they were now alone.

Just looking at him, trying to smile at her, stoked her anger to new heights. "Are you planning on abdicating your throne?"

To his credit, he didn't try to deny it. "No. Abdicating would mean that I formally step down and renounce my claim and listen to the whines and moans of others. Leaving without a word makes it easier."

Even with his confirmation of what Daenerys said, it still hit her like a warhammer. "Why… why would you do this?"

"It is necessary." 

"Necessary?"

"Aye. All I can hope to serve is the destruction of the dead and death of the Night King, the rest is best served without me there."

"That is not true."

He sighed. "Sansa, I do not wish to see you hurt, but…"

She crossed her arms. "Everything before the word 'but' is horseshit." One of their father's old sayings, and it shut him up. "So that's it then. Abandoning your duties? Your family? Your home and people… for what, Jon? For what?"

Jon shook his head. "You wouldn't understand."

Suddenly Sansa was transplanted to a similar scene. Far colder, far less comfortable. A tent in the middle of the North, close to Winterfell. Their roles reversed, him confronting and her on the back foot. Beset by his ruthless calm. Here, as there, she was the emotional one, but now it was Sansa that was on the offensive. Her emotion battered against his ice.

His words filled her head. Once she would never forget that had drawn her back from the brink of despair. Built her up and brought her back again from the darkest place of her life. Sansa Stark was happy, or had been happy before this. Happy for the first time since leaving Winterfell the first time.

Those words spilled out, her melodic voice rather than his gruff one. "But you trust me, don't you?"

Her cousin may have been a fool, but he was not an idiot. "Don't go there, Sansa." His voice wasn't quite a growl… more like a slicing knife.

She wasn't afraid. "I know you have demons. You don't talk about them but they're there… You encouraged me to confront mine, so I will do the same for you and you will not tell me to stop."

"There are no happy endings in this, Sansa. Not like the stories you read as a girl." His face tightened as he scowled. "There are things… you can never know. I would not burden you with them."

"You still think I'm weak?" Sansa asked, her voice angrier than she intended.

The anger was real though. 

"Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Then tell me why you insist on doing this! Why are you going to throw all of your duties and your family to the wind?!"

He was silent.

"Or are you just a coward?" Was she goading him? Aye, she was. "Father would be ashamed of what you became. Your mother and father too."

But he didn't yell. He didn't scream or bellow or even hit her. Instead… "I just want it all to end."

Faced with his glare, his cold anger masking whatever real emotions he felt, shrouding him like a blizzard, Sansa knew she had lost. Everything she had tossed at him hadn't broken through his facade. The wall that surrounded what he really thought. The secrets he wouldn't share with anyone, even her.

Jon knew everything of hers though. Every detail and every thought… and Sansa had no issue with it. He saved her, protected her even after she treated him so badly growing up, and she trusted him implicitly. That which Jon didn't share with her was a blow to the chest. 

As was the deeper meaning of his words. "You intend to die fighting the Night King, don't you?"

His stare didn't change, and his voice held no emotion. Cold, soulless… no, more like haunting. A man that had been battered into numbness. "I don't intend to die, but I will if I have to."

"You were brought back before."

"No, if I fall, then that's it. But if I live, then I'm running." He seemed to grow less tense, but wasn't relaxed either as he turned to the side, staring into the hearth. "I ask for nothing but peace. Whether I am alive or dead."

"There will be no peace, Jon. If you leave… Many only follow you. You're the only person keeping the North even slightly connected to the south, and they won't trust Daenerys."

Jon's eyes narrowed. "They will. I'll make sure they will."

"They won't… and even if Rickon and I tell them to, they'll go their own way." She bit her lip.

"It will not happen." 

"Why do you keep saying that? Why do you keep denying that? Because you think you're going to die?" Sansa surged forward, the thought driving her to agony. "You… you… you bastard!" She hit him, fists banging on her slightly shorter but infinitely stronger cousin's chest. Sansa was likely to regret calling him that, screaming it, but in this he was being one. "You will not! You will not die! How dare you!"

While he tensed at the insult, seeing her in such a state made Jon's eyes soften. "Sansa…"

"No! How dare you do this? How dare you think your absence from our lives is a good thing? Father, mother, Robb, aunt Lyanna… your father and even Daenerys' family, your family." A tear fell down her cheek. "We've all lost enough." Sansa couldn't help it. She broke down sobbing, too weak to stop him from scooping her in his arms. Making her feel safe and warm… 

Even though that was the last thing he should've been making her feel. "I'm sorry."

Sniffling, she hugged him back. "Don't do this… It's the worst thing you could do."

There was a silence before he finally replied. "You're wrong." Sansa pulled back, staring at him through bloodshot eyes. Boring into his soul, seeing it completely broken. Haunted. Agonized. "There are some things worse than death."

"Becoming a wight?" He shook his head. "Then what?"

"It's… I can't…" 

Sansa couldn't take it anymore. "Fine!" She stomped her foot on the floor, however petulant it was she wouldn't break anything or hit Jon again. "By the way, Daenerys knows." With that she stormed out. Managing to make it to her bedchamber and to her bed before she collapsed atop it, face in her hands as the sobs resumed.

Daenerys

"You don't look much like your mother." No introduction, just straight to thick of it. And the voice of her words were so spiteful. Did Cersei Lannister truly hate everyone who wasn't her?

Standing there, wearing her severe black dress and red cloak, Daenerys raised a brow. "You are the first person to tell me that."

A snort came as Cersei stretched as much as she could in the small cell. The way Daenerys had imagined her for years was a cold and fierce woman, clad in her family's wealth and power. That image was destroyed by this person. Pale, filthy, and wounded.

"My father took Jaime and I to the Red Keep once before your family was weeded out. Rhaella used to be beautiful, but so full of weakness." A bitter laugh. "She was cowed and fragile because of your mad father… your eyes are his at least. Same cold glare, but that pretty face hides the madness in them well."

While her teeth clenched, Daenerys maintained an icy expression. For the life of her, she did not know why she was here or why she bothered. Sansa spoke of Cersei being human filth in a skirt… "You were the one I thought I would fight," she finally said. "The woman who clawed her way to a throne by any means necessary."

"By any means," Cersei repeated coldly, "except I was never sentimental enough to care about the sheep underneath me." Leaning forward in the cell, Cersei gripped the bars. Staring at Daenerys who refused to take a step back. "It is pathetic, wasting all that time and treasure for the gutters of slaves."

"And it's all about you, isn't it? Only your power that mattered?"

"Yes, and fuck anyone who isn't me." She sounded almost proud of herself.

A pitiful sigh escaped Daenerys, and a single word hidden in her breath. "Pathetic," Daenerys murmured. "You are pathetic, Cersei Lannister." The dethroned usurper smirked viciously at her. "Forsaking all, and now here you are. No allies. No one to love you. Condemned to die one day for your crimes… and I still have it in me to have pity for you."

"And you think you know love?" She scoffed. "They'll toss you aside like your brother tossed me."

This time, Daenerys smiled. "It must burn inside that he did, Lady Cersei. The moment you saw Aegon for who he is, Lyanna's ghost must have been right behind him, smiling at you." Cersei's fists clenched angrily at the bars. Her taunts were working. "If Joffrey had been my kin instead I would have burned this castle to the ground the moment I laid eyes on it. I thought you'd be a worthy opponent. I was wrong. I sincerely hope the gods have mercy upon you."

"He'll betray you!" she screeched as Daenerys left. "He's going to be just like all the others!" Daenerys didn't pay her any mind. She let the broken Queen rant in the darkness, for it was all Cersei could do now.

Brazho waited just up the stairs for her, hand on the hilt of his Arakh as he clicked his tongue. "Did you get what you desire, Khaleesi?"

Daenerys sighed. "No, I did not."

"Then why did you go?"  

She smiled. Her closest Dothraki were always blunt like that. It was refreshing. "I wanted to see. She knew my family… my mother, father, and brother. I know more about them now."

"That wasn't what you wanted. Get your desires, or you waste time." Daenerys pursed her lips. She couldn't argue with that.

Cersei was on her mind because of Rhaegar, and Rhaegar was on her mind because of… his son. Aegon was an enigma, someone who was just like everything people described her brother as, but also he wasn't. Rhaegar liked music, books, and the company of his friends, all of them Aegon showed no interest in. Yet both of them were burdened by prophecies, strong warriors who resented their power, and desirable.

Sansa, Davos, even Samwell Tarly all carried high opinions of him. He took on burdens that no one asked him to take upon himself more than he needed…

Daenerys meant what she said to Cersei about valuing him. Were circumstances better, she would be doing everything she could to strengthen their familial tie. But the rift between herself and Aegon only grew wider and wider.

As Daenerys and Brahzo passed through the throne room, she found her footsteps paused at the sight of Ser Loras out of his armor, speaking harshly to a handmaiden in a dress decorated in golden roses. Their voices were whispers, but Loras practically shouted his last order at her.

"Then find out now!" He hissed before realizing he was being watched, at such point he darted off in a fast pace for the main door while the handmaiden walked in the opposite direction to Maegor's Holdfast almost on the verge of tears.

Curistosity made her wonder if all was well in the Tyrell household. Despite forsaking his House, Daenerys didn't think differently of Loras for still keeping some attention and effort in it. Cersei nearly destroyed the Tyrell's for good, and with Loras being who he was, it was understandable why tensions in their family were high.

Her eyes narrowed at the Iron Throne and her thoughts retraced back to Aegon and what she overheard from his room. She took a deep breath, readying herself to finally confront him about such absurdity. She wanted no obstacles in her way for the Throne, but Aegon wasn't an obstacle to her anymore. "Brazho, you may go. I will head to the King's chambers alone." 

"Is that your decision, Khaleesi?"

" Yes. I do not believe he will harm me." There couldn't be any beating around the bush any longer. No more assuming, no more speculations, and no more secrets.

Daenerys walked fast to the King's chambers, alone. Just as she wouldn't have any guard with her, nor would she bear the presence of an advisor who might try and take the reins of her words for her. This had to be her and her alone.

"Your grace!" She knocked hard on the King's door, ignoring the golden hand raised up in front of her and the warning given. She glared at the door, resisting the urge to lock eyes with the Kingslayer. How many Lannisters did she have to deal with today?

"Did you not hear me?" Ser Jaime Lannister said, "the King is busy. Come back-"

The door opened and there stood Aegon. "Come in," He beckoned unpleasantly, holding the door open for her. He held up a hand when Ser Jaime and Ser Creighton tried to step inside as well, closing the door behind Daenerys. The two of them now were alone. "I thought you would be on your way to Dragonstone by now. But I suppose the answer why you're not is obvious. You heard me and Davos, then?"

Her brow rose. "Sansa told you?"

"More like screamed it at me." It sounded like it was supposed to be amusing, but he held pure seriousness. "Only person who could tell her is you, your Grace. What were you coming to see me for in the first place?"

Daenerys straightened. "I wanted to share some information I found with Sansa that could help you for your war. My brother had been searching for a broken sword that was engraved with the prophecy the Priestesses of the Lord of Light had spoken to me before. Somewhere, the other half has an answer to what it all truly means. I thought you might have an idea…" She shook her head, realizing that she was getting distracted from the reason she came to see him in the first place. "What game are you playing at?" Daenerys skipped straight to the point. "Was everything you argued against me just some performance so when the time came I would believe I had every right to the throne? You're tossing it aside as though it was trivial."

"It's just an ugly chair," Aegon replied.

Daenerys had half a mind to slap him across the face again. He knew what she meant. The Throne, the crown, the title, the responsibilities of it all.

He seemed to take her silence as an answer, so he gave an answer of his own. "I told you I'm only doing what is needed of me. That's all I have ever done whether I want to or not, and it's hardly ever been because I want to. I hate it all. But I can't leave it either. When you play the game of thrones, you live or you die. There is no middle ground."

The worst part was that he was right. Her nephew had clearly learned the hard way the same lessons she had. Did Daenerys regret her campaign to free the slaves? Never, but she had underestimated the length of how the Masters would go to oppose her, and the fickleness of the freedmen in their support of her. Aegon went through some hard lessons himself, she was sure of that, but…

There was more than met the eye. Daenerys heard the undercurrent of conviction. Of desperation. Of pain in his voice. Aegon played the game and played it well, but he was no liar. Perhaps it was just with her, but for what reason she didn't know. However, Daenerys could see through his detached facade.

"What did you go through to make you believe that?"

Aegon looked at her curiously. "More than enough."

Daenerys pressed her lips. "I went to see Cersei Lannister."

He snorted. "And why would you do that?"

For someone so dour, he could be amusing. Daenerys snorted, smirking a bit. "I was curious about the person I had steeled myself to fight. My council predicted a long war that would last me moons if I didn't use my dragons to torch King's Landing."

"Best that you didn't." He didn't look at her, walking to the window and looking out. "Your reputation is that of a liberator. Wouldn't help…" A hitch in his voice, however steely it was. "If you broke it."

"That's… why I wasn't going to do it." Daenerys raised a brow at him, but he still didn't budge. "In any case, it was a waste of time. She compared me to my mother, that I was as weak as her… but with my father's madness."

She noticed that Aegon's hands balled into fists. "You're not him… you don't have to be him."

"I know." Daenerys walked up beside him, looking at his face. In the sunlight, he looked his young age. Not the hard expression he'd been forced to adopt. "Children do not have to be their parents, and are not bound by their decisions or crimes… but family is family."

"You're not changing my mind," he growled.

"It would help if I truly understood your decision, Aegon. Nephew." She bit her lip, moving to touch his hand as it gripped the windowsill. He tensed, but did not withdraw. "You've refused every suggestion from both my council and yours about sharing power."

He blinked. "As I said, I'm doing what is needed of me." Aegon's eyes still stared out at the water. "I am a warrior, a commander, a killer. Even if I hate it, I'm good at it. I'm not wanted when days of peace are at sunrise."

"Peace is fickle. War can break out at any time. To have a warrior of your stature at the ready is something the realms need."

"I don't care."

"I think you do." She squeezed his hand and finally he looked at her. A man thoroughly haunted, and for the first time it made Daenerys' heart ache. "You're my nephew, Aegon. The family I never thought I had." Daenerys turned to face him. "If Rhaegar lived, we'd have grown together and I am sure we'd have been close."

Aegon's eyes fluttered shut. "I know." Emotion crossed his face. "But it's not the case… this is our reality, and I'm prepared to accept it. Growing up as Jon Snow has taught me many things."

"Your people love you, Aegon."

"No they don't. They admire and are amused. I'm just convenient to them."

"That isn't true."

He shook his head. "You know what it is to be loved by the people… I may be just a bastard to many but that shall be my legacy." Aegon opened his eyes, a momentary look of horror crossing his face before it drowned in his usual hardness.

"Aegon…"

"What would it take for you just to let go of the damned thing? Why not just let someone else have it?" The way he said that was like he was trying to assure her that she was guiltless of something. "I don't understand why anyone wants to stay in this place."

Daenerys probed a bit deeper. "You're my nephew, and I would rather rule together with you than alone. I've known what it's like to be alone, to know you're the only one left, while you at least had a family…"

"And I lost ev…!" Trembling, it was clear that the mighty Aegon VI Targaryen was struggling ever harder to maintain control of his emotions. "This is my final decision." Aegon's eyes smoldered. "Everything you were told about yourself and me were lies. I'll always be a bastard, and you're nothing but extraordinary."

Her eyes narrowed. "There is no favor in destroying our family just as I finally got it back… I'll never forgive you if you do this."

Aegon met her glare with one of his own. "A price I'll pay gladly." By the gods, she wanted to punch him for that.

He wandered over to his desk and presented a piece of parchment. "My last will. If the dead are defeated and regardless if I live or die, I am leaving. The throne will not be mine any longer." He looked at her just as she was about to inquire. "But you are not my heir."

Daenerys froze.

"The great lords of Westeros will convene together and choose who will sit upon the Throne as King or Queen." He set the will back down on the desk. "That is the only way you can be the Queen you mean to be, Daenerys. They have to choose you, otherwise, to them, you're only there because of the three dragons that will silence them if they disagree."

A dozen thoughts flooded her at once. What kind of fool would leave the throne just open for anyone? That way, all it would take was someone with enough friends to be placed where they didn't deserve.

But their conversation was cut short when Aegon suddenly winced and yelled as though he had been stabbed with a dinner fork.

Jon

'Jon!' The Raven yelled, making Jon wince from the surprise. 'Jon, there's a grave problem. The wight on its way to you has escaped into the Riverlands east of Lord Harroway's Town.'

What? No, this couldn't be right. Jon sucked in a breath and held it coldly. There were twenty men watching that wight's transport. How in Seven Hells did it get free?

Just then, a rapid knock came from the door. "Your grace," Ser Jaime called through, "a raven scroll's arrived for you. The man with it says it's urgent."

'I forged one for you. Hurry.' The Raven's presence disappeared.

Jon rushed over to the door at a fast pace, leaving Daenerys behind. 

He swung the door open and swiped the parchment from the servant's hand who brought it. He pretended to read it thoroughly, playing the act for the people around him. "No…" he breathed. "No!" He kicked the heel of his boot against his door, bashing it into the wall behind it. "Jaime! Call the other Kingsguard and the Council to the Small Council chamber, now!" He turned to Daenerys. "I'm going to need to borrow Rhaegal from you."

"What is it?" Daenerys asked, broken out of their previous conversation.

"The wight coming from Winterfell's escaped on the road and now it's in the bloody Riverlands! If that thing starts to kill then more will become like it and we're all fucked."

Daenerys trailed closely behind as Jon rushed through the castle to the small council room.

"What happened?" he hissed through his teeth, quiet enough that Daenerys could not hear him.

"The caravan was attacked by men who thought it was gold being taken to you. They killed our men and the wight fled away."

"Fled?" Jon nearly stopped in place. "It didn't fight? What about the bodies of our men?"

"No, it just ran away, Jon. I've tried to follow its path but…" the Raven's voice went silent.

"Bran?" Jon whispered, but there was no response. The Raven was probably looking for the creature now.

Jon made it to the Small Council chamber and it didn't take long for everyone else to gather.

"The wight's escaped!" Jon cut straight to the wick, not bothering with pleasantries or greetings. "It's been lost somewhere in the Riverlands!"

"What?" Sansa asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Qyburn and Sam needed another wight to study, so I sent for another from Winterfell and it broke free on the road!" Jon corrected. "Edmure," all eyes turned to the Lord of the Riverlands as a map of the lord's kingdom was produced by Ser Brynden Tully, "as far as I know, the caravan transporting it from Winterfell lost it east of Lord Harroway's Town. Are there any settlements without a proper guard it could attack?"

Instead of Edmure, Ser Brynden answered, "not likely. The roads in that region aren't traversed in the cold conditions. The people tend to stay along the coasts and the Kingsroad."

"That was before the war, Uncle," Edmure interjected and he pointed out two rivers between Riverrun and Lord Harroway's Town. "The Lannisters burned several bridges to cut off supply chains and I've tasked three crews to rebuild them. Two have been completed but one here," he dragged his finger down to the river labeled Big Willow, "I took the opportunity to have a new bridge built at the fork to save several days of travel around it. There should be one or two armed men watching over the construction, but they have none of the dragonglass."

Ser Brynden appeared impressed with his nephew as though it were the first time he ever was.

"They just need fire," Davos reminded.

"The wights won't take chances with soldiers," Jon said, "it'll look for anyone defenseless, like caravan and solitary travelers.

Lord Edmure looked skeptical. "Your grace, I doubt this creature has a lay of the land or the knowledge of travel routes-"

"Assume it does!" Jon scolded and Edmure's jaw clenched.

"Here," Edmure pointed at a road that was marked passing by Harrenhal. "Without a lord residing, the roads near Harrenhal are unguarded and often used without highwaymen collecting tax."

Jon looked at the spot on the map intensely as though he were looking at the very land itself from above on dragonback, searching for the wight.

'I can't see there…' The Raven said and Jon cocked his head, holding back any kind of response that would appear strange.

"Your grace?" Ser Brynden asked.

'Jon, I can't see there. It's like there's a fog in the sight, keeping me from seeing the forest. It's there, I know it, but I don't know where in it. You'll have to hunt it down.'

Jon tapped on the section of the map near Harrenhal marked with trees next to the God's Eye. "Here, it will come here. Out in the open, one is nothing and vulnerable. It will hide here stalking the unsuspecting."

"Then we should send ravens out at once," Beric advised, "Thoros and his men are in the Riverlands rallying men. He can take the Brotherhood and destroy it."

Jon shook his head, a burning anger growing inside of him. "We can't take any chances with this. If even once a person gets turned by that thing, then we've just about lost. We can't risk a plague of wights spreading south of the Wall and expect to face the army coming from the north as well. No chances, none." Jon's fingers curled into fists. "We burn the whole forest down."

"Your grace," Edmure objected, "The time it would take to evacuate the area and get the men needed for such a devastating task would take longer than simply gathering a small army to hunt it down."

Jon looked up at the eyes staring at him. "We don't need men when we have dragons. I'm taking Rhaegal and I'll light the largest fire the south has ever seen if it means killing it."

"What about the roads?" Ser Jaime asked, resting his good hand on the pommel of his sword and looking Jon directly in the eye. "They won't be barren. Are you just willing to kill the innocent if it means safety for the realms?"

"I didn't realize you cared so much about the innocent." Jon shot back.

Tyrion had his own remark at the ready. "And I didn't realize that you didn't care at all for them. Capturing these creatures was your idea and a necessity, but this situation is your fault. Are you ready to let others pay for your mistakes?"

"It wouldn't be the first and it won't be the last. I'm not wasting any more time with this-"

"Stay where you are, your grace," Daenerys said with a sharp tone. "You presume that I will let you take one of my dragons with you freely when you are wrong. If you are so willing to bring death to those who don't deserve it, then you may do so on the back of a horse but not my children."

"This isn't the time for this!" Jon exclaimed at her.

"This is the only time for this! We hunt the creature, not burn it. Send ravens to whoever can help and cage it in. Dragonglass and fire, that's all it takes."

The Raven's voice appeared. 'Howland Reed and some of his men are near High Heart hunting straggling Freys causing trouble. They can meet you there.'

Jon's face twisted in confusion. What was Howland doing so far south of the Neck? "Fine, but horses are too slow. With a dragon we can be there before tomorrow afternoon. Send out the ravens to Thoros and his men." Jon looked at His Kingsguard. "Beric, Wallace, Remus, and Creighton, you'll all ride with me. Jaime, Loras, and Marcus, you'll stay here and keep watch over the council."

"Wait," Daenerys pressed her hand on Jon's chest. "I'm going too."

"No," Jon said without hesitation.

"I do not care if Rhaegal allows you as his rider. Unless I go, he doesn't, do you understand?"

Jon took a deep breath. "What about your attendance on Dragonstone?"

"They can wait a few more days."

Fine, but bring a guard."

Daenerys nodded. "Ser Jorah and my Unsullied will be all I need. But we'll need new arms. Dragonglass spears at the least."

"We have plenty of weapons that haven't been sent to the North yet. Everyone better arm themselves within the hour because whether you're ready or not, I'm going."

" We ," Daenerys corrected, "will be going. You don't have to solve every problem by yourself, you know."

Jon stared her down for a second, holding back his words. Ever since he awoke from death, that's all he had ever done. "Get a move on. Half an hour, and then we're leaving."