Game of Thrones Season 7 Chapter 13
Winterfell – Jon
Jon Snow was not having fun. In fact, he could not remember the last time he had any fun, but riding a dragon by himself he would never call fun. He was terrified and he did not like the feeling at all. He would rather face the whole Bolton army again by himself.
"Just hang on," the Queen told him, as if Jon would ever dare think of letting go. The back of the white dragon named Viserion was hard and boney and hot. He grasped two of the spiny protrusions near where the neck joined the body and hung on for life. He did not know how to make it turn or go up and down but it seemed like it just wanted to follow its bigger brother Drogon that the Queen was riding. The green dragon Rhaegal was to the left of where Jon was on Viserion, the three dragons formed up like an arrowhead with Drogon at the point. Jon was fine with that as long as the dragon did not do anything too violent that could shake him off its back.
Up the Kingsroad they went, towards where Tormund had said he had seen the wights. Jon looked down and after a brief moment of dizziness he got control of himself. It was no different then looking over the edge of the Wall…well, almost no different. At least on the Wall he had his feet on something. Here he was at the mercy of the dragon's whims.
As he looked he saw nothing but trees and whiteness, no wights and Walkers anywhere. On they flew a few miles up the Kingsroad and then they circled back and finally the Queen shouted across to him.
"Nothing to see!"
He nodded once and then all three dragons headed back to Winterfell where they landed in the godswood.
"How was it?" Daenerys asked as Jon climbed off the back of Viserion.
"Fine," he lied as he tried to steady his feet and she knew it was a lie.
"I was scared my first time, too. Exhilarated and scared. It was so unexpected because it was not something I had planned, but I had to do it."
"What happened?" Jon asked.
"In Meereen I was surrounded by enemies in the great fighting pit, with no way out, and then Drogon saved me and Tyrion and many more. Drogon flew out of nowhere. I hadn't seen him in weeks…but there he was, coming to rescue me." She looked with admiration at her dragon.
"How did he know you were in danger?"
"I don't know. But you must understand there is a connection between them and our family Jon. We are bonded for life once we ride one. You and Viserion will not be parted."
"I guess that means I am a true Targaryen."
"Yes. Do not doubt it. We are of the same blood. And that brings me to another matter. The matter of being my heir."
Jon hesitated and then nodded. "As you wish. But when you have a child, I will step aside."
"Of course. If I have a child, you will be free of this obligation."
"If?"
Her cheeks seemed to redden. "Sorry. I meant 'when'. Perhaps I said 'if' because I have no husband as yet…and no suitors."
Jon now felt himself blush slightly for she was so very beautiful and now seemed so vulnerable as well. But she was also his aunt and that made it even more awkward. He covered up his unease by turning away slightly, unable to trust himself to look at her, and with some sideways flattery. "I find that hard to believe. Has no one asked for your hand?"
"They have…but it is complicated. I…I don't wish to speak on it now. Perhaps later. Let us care for the dragons first."
They chained the dragons up, Jon thinking on what the Queen's words meant but he had no idea. He knew nothing about this woman, who was his queen, and his aunt. He knew little of her life, except a bit of what she had been through as a child, running and hiding from Robert Baratheon's agents. Other than that Jon knew nothing.
After the dragons were tethered again she spoke to Drogon in High Valyrian, but Jon did not understand the words.
"I suppose I should learn High Valyrian as well," he said.
"It would be helpful. A few lessons I can give you, some simple commands they will understand."
"What about Rhaegal? Who will ride him?"
"I don't know. Three riders there should be. In the east I had a dream one night. My brother Rhaegar, your father, he came to me and told me there must be three riders for three dragons. I thought long on who the other two riders would be. I never knew of you until recently. It is certain you are the second rider now. As for the third maybe I have an idea. There is one person who might…"
But they were interrupted by Tyrion and Ser Davos and Tormund coming to meet them.
"What news, my Queen?" Tyrion asked.
"No news," she replied. "We saw nothing."
"They were there," Tormund insisted. "All my patrol saw them."
"I know you saw them," Jon said. "But we saw nothing from the air. They must be hidden in the forests. Perhaps we had better take a patrol on foot, with the Queen overhead on Drogon. Draw them out, and destroy them."
"A sound plan," said Ser Davos. "But first there is one more thing to do."
"What?" Jon asked.
Tyrion looked at him with a sense of awe. "They found the sword."
"What…you mean Lightbringer?" Jon asked in surprise.
"They found a sword," said Tormund, sounding a bit skeptical. "Young Arya thinks it is the real thing. This Lightbringer."
"Where is the sword now?" Daenerys asked.
"In the crypts, Your Grace," Davos told them. "They found a statue at the lowest levels, old, crumbling, but unlike any other king's statue. No beard, no direwolf at its feet. The sword is real, not a mark on it, no rust, after all these years. It was it the statue's hand, lying across its lap. They tried to take the sword but it would not budge. Lord Brandon says only you can lift it."
"Or it is frozen tight to the statue," Jon suggested.
"I think not," said Tyrion. "Gendry came out with the message. He said it is so very hot down there, with water knee deep and very warm. The castle rests on a pool of volcanic lava, I am guessing."
"Aye, maybe so," said Jon, though he was not certain. Winterfell had always been warm inside, even now in the coldest winter. Hot springs bubbled up from below and hot water flowed through channels in the walls of the main buildings, all designed and built many centuries ago.
They found the blacksmith Gendry outside the crypt entrance. Jon knew little of him except that he was Robert Baratheon's son and Arya and he had had some wild adventures and now she seemed to be in love with him. And he with her.
Gendry dipped his head as they approached. "Your Grace, my lords."
"What news?" the Queen asked as she stared at him.
"They are waiting for him," Gendry said as he looked at Jon with a bit of awe. Gods, not him too.
"They tell me you are Robert Baratheon's son," the Queen said suddenly, and Jon thought he heard Tyrion groan.
"Bastard son," Gendry said and then quickly added, "Your Grace."
"Quite so," said Tyrion quickly as he stepped forward. "With no claims or desire for any…"
"Relax," Daenerys said to her Hand. "I do not think he means to throw me off the Iron Throne."
"Never," said Gendry, aghast at what was being suggested.
"Your Grace," said Davos. "Gendry has proven his loyalty in many ways, and I will vouch for him if there are any doubts at all."
"I see," she said. "Tell me Ser Davos, who is leader of the Baratheon family now?"
"Ah…uncertain, Your Grace. Robert, Stannis, and Renly are all dead. With the death of Shireen and all of Cersei Lannister's children as well there is no heir. Maybe a cousin somewhere, but…oh."
Then he understood as did Tyrion. "Yes, he would do nicely," said Tyrion. "Of course, you would have to make him a true Baratheon."
"What is going on?" Gendry asked in confusion.
Jon ginned. "I think you are about to become a great lord of the realm."
"Maybe," said the Queen. "I need think on this."
Gendry stood there in shock and finally Jon broke the silence. "So, where is this sword?"
The blacksmith held a lantern as he led them deep underground, down one, two, three levels on old stone stairs. As they went deeper the air grew warmer, and then it became hot, almost like a summer day. Jon felt the sweat trickle down his back as they reached the lowest level. Water knee deep flooded the floor between rows of statues of the old kings of the North.
At the far end they saw people with more lanterns and torches, the whole long room lit up. On each side sat ten statues, each of a bearded man with a direwolf at his feet. The statues were on raised stone so the water barely lapped at their feet. On the lap of each statue was a sword, held by the right hand. As they sloshed through the water if felt warm.
The Hound, Bronn, Brienne, Podrick, Sansa, Arya, and Bran were standing by two statues that were on the far end of the cavern, facing down the length of the room, looking between the rows of statues. All were standing in the water, except Bran, who was sitting on the edge of a nearby statue, the Hound close by his side.
"Jon, we found…" Arya said and then she saw the Queen was with them. "Your Grace."
"Do not mind me," Daenerys said.
"Er, yes. So, Jon," Arya continued. "We found Lightbringer!" She could not hide her excitement.
Not everyone believed it. The Hound scoffed. "It's just a sword."
"A clean sword," said Bronn as he held a torch near the lap of the statue. Jon stepped forward and saw how the statue differed from the rest. It was of a clean shaven man, and his facial features seemed odd, smooth, with a small nose and narrow eyes, though that may have been a trick of the poor light. His clothing seemed like of the North, but he had no direwolf at his feet. And Bronn was right about the sword. It was clean, the blade shining in the light, unlike the others they had passed on the kingly statues, all rusted or caked in dust and some green growths. To the left of the statue sat another one, this one clearly of a man of the North, with a heavy beard, a direwolf at his feet, a rusted iron sword on his lap. This king seemed very old, the carved stone made to show his wrinkles and age.
Jon looked at Bran. "Is it who I think it is?"
Bran nodded. "Yes. Brandon the Builder and Azor Ahai…at least the statues look similar to the two men I saw in my vision. If it was them, then this must be his sword."
"Here all this time," Tyrion said with a sad shake of his head. "Living with history so near."
Now the others parted and Jon stepped forward and peered closely at the sword. There was nothing special about it. A plain blade, double edged, with a sharp tapering point, about three feet long, like most swords. The hilt was plain as well, nothing ornate or special at all.
"Pick it up," said Arya, almost breathless.
Jon started to move forward, but then Tyrion spoke again. "No…let the Queen try first."
"What?" said Arya in disbelief. "She can't be…sorry, Your Grace, but how can you be the Prince?"
"The legend is unclear on whether it is a man or a woman," Tyrion explained.
"Where did you hear of this legend?" Sansa asked.
"From an archmaester of Oldtown," Daenerys explained. She looked at Jon. "He was the one who told me about Sam and your true birth. He said the heir of Azor Ahai had to be one of us."
"Aye," Jon said. "Best you try first."
Everyone stepped back as she stepped forward. Jon watched Arya and saw she was mad, but said nothing. Arya wanted him to be this prince, the great hero who would save them. He believed the others felt the same, even the Hound and Bronn, the two most skeptical. They wanted someone to save them…and once more Jon felt the heavy burden of responsibility. In his heart he knew it was not the Queen, knew it had to be him, who had fought against the ancient enemy for so long. But also he secretly hoped it would be her, so he could be freed of some of his burdens. He would never speak on this to anyone, for they all saw him as a hero who could save them. To say he was just a man would shatter their hopes.
The hilt of the sword lay in the statue's right hand but the fingers did not grasp it and the hilt extended a bit beyond the hand. Daenerys reached out with her right hand and gripped the hilt end and lifted…
…and nothing happened.
She tried to put some strength into it but still it would not budge.
"Hah!" said Arya in almost triumph and then she realized how rude she had been. "Sorry, Your Grace."
Daenerys let out a breath, as if she seemed relieved. "Not at all," she said to Arya. "It seems I am not the legend reborn." Jon sensed she was not the least bit disappointed by this news.
Now all eyes were on Jon. Bran spoke. "It must be Jon."
"Or no one," said Bronn. Everyone gave him dirty looks and he just shrugged.
Davos cut through the tension. "Right. Let's get on with it then. My feet are wet and I don't fancy standing in this water much longer."
Jon took a deep breath and stepped forward. He took off the glove on his right hand and felt the heavy tension among the onlookers as he reached forward and touched the hilt of the sword.
The hilt was bare, not wrapped in leather strips as many sword hilts were. The metal felt warm at his touch, not the cold of steel he had expected. He wrapped his hands around the hilt end and gave a tug…
…and the sword came free! He held it up and it felt light, lighter than Longclaw had ever felt, and it also felt as it was alive, as if a pulse was flowing through the sword…a heartbeat.
And then the shocking thing happened. Light began to flow from the hilt to the tip, as if the sword was on fire, but it was not a fire, it was a glow, a deep glow that filled the whole cavern with light and heat.
"Gods!" Arya and Sansa gasped.
"It is him," Brienne added in an awed tone.
"The Prince!" Tyrion shouted.
"Bloody hell," said Bronn and the Hound at almost the same time.
"I knew it would be you," Bran said as he tried to shield his eyes from the light.
Daenerys touched his arm, and Jon saw the fur on the collar of her cape was smoking as if it was about to burst into flame. Now he noticed the rest were beating out little fires on their clothing and all around him the water was steaming. "Jon," the Queen said. "It's so hot, we are…"
Jon dropped the sword. Instantly the light and heat were gone…and so was the sword, in the water.
"The sword!" Arya shouted and she dove for the water. Others reached down as well and it was Gendry who picked it up…but no light and heat came from it.
He examined the sword, then shrugged. "Just a sword."
"Valyrian steel?" the Hound asked.
Gendry shook his head. "Don't think so. But…it feels…"
"Alive," Jon said and Gendry nodded.
"Yes…alive."
One by one they all held the sword and they all felt the same thing, as if a heart was beating in the sword.
"Azor Ahai's wife," said Tyrion as he grasped the hilt. "He killed her to make the sword, by driving the hot metal into her beating heart."
"A legend," said the Queen.
"Maybe," said Jon. "But we all felt it."
"But why did it only light up for Jon?" Sansa asked.
"Because he is the Prince," said Tormund from the back of the group. He had said nothing until now, and had not touched the sword. "Bloody hell, Snow. I would not kiss a king's arse, so I certainly won't kiss a prince's."
They all had a chuckle at that. Finally Tyrion held the sword out to Jon. "Your scabbard," Tyrion said. "Until we can test it and see what power it has, you should keep it out of hand."
Jon loosened Longclaw from his scabbard and handed it to Gendry. "Don't lose it," he said, very serious. He knew Longclaw could kill Walkers, but not what this new sword could do. Tyrion gently slid it into the scabbard. It did not quite fit, being a bit longer than Longclaw.
"What should we do about this news, my lords?" the Queen asked.
"Tell no one," Davos suggested. "No one can know."
"How can we hide this?" asked Sansa. "Many in the castle know we are searching for the sword."
"Tell them we found nothing," said Bronn. "Just a wild chase for a rumor."
"Aye," Jon agreed. "We don't even know if it can kill wights or Walkers."
"It must," said Bran. "How else did they defeat them eight thousand years ago?"
No one had an answer. "Well, if that is all, my lords and ladies," said Davos. "I think we had best get out of here, dry off, and discuss our next step."
"Find the enemy, and kill them," said the Hound.
"Yes," said the Queen.
But the enemy they could not find. A large patrol went out on foot, with the Queen overhead on her dragon, but no sign of the enemy did they find.
"Where did they go?" Jon asked, and no one had any answers. The war was not over yet, and until the enemy came to them, it seemed they would have to maintain a constant vigilance.
King's Landing – Samwell
The journey up the Roseroad to King's Landing took ten days, and it was not without trouble. One good thing was that they traveled in comfort, befitting the rank of Lady Olenna Tyrell. Sam and Sarella sat in a large carriage with her, despite the protest of her guards who said Sam and Sarella could not be trusted.
"I trust them more than many others," the Queen of Thorns replied to her guard captain. "Get us to King's Landing and let me worry about the rest." The guard captain obeyed but insisted that their weapons not be returned to them until they reached the capital and Lady Olenna agreed on this at least. Sarella still masqueraded as a man, and Olenna did not let on to her guards she was anything but that. Or maybe she had, and kept that news to herself.
All day they moved forward, as fast as the road and weather allowed, with Lady Olenna holding court in the carriage, telling them tales of her youth and her family, cursing Cersei Lannister and relishing her coming execution, all while trying to pry as much information out of them as she could. When pressed Sam spoke at length on his adventures north of the Wall. She was particular interested in everything about Jon that Sam could tell her, trying to take the measure of the man, as she explained to Sam. Sarella was less talkative, replying only to direct questions without offering much else, and sometimes not even to those.
"She mistrusts me," Olenna said to Sam one time when Sarella did not answer her about her relationship with Ellaria Sand.
Sarella shrugged. "There is nothing to tell."
"Surely there must be something," Olenna pressed. "She is mother to your three half sisters. She was your father's lover."
"You are mistaken," Sarella said. "My father had eight daughters, bastards all. Ellaria is mother to five of my half sisters. Obara and Nymeria are not her daughters. If you believe she is a mother to us, maybe she was in some ways. But she is not my true mother. I hardly know the woman. My father's lover, that is all she is to me, nothing more."
"I see. So you hate her."
"I did not say that," Sarella protested.
"But how do you feel about her taking over all of Dorne?"
"I don't get involved in politics."
"Surely you must be concerned. After all, she had your uncle and his son killed. Your cousin he would be, would he not?"
"Not my uncle, not my cousin," Sarella countered. "Not by the laws of Westeros at least. I am a bastard, or have you already forgotten."
"But the Dornish have never held by such laws."
"Never held to them, you say," Sarella scoffed. "How little you know of Dorne. A bastard is a bastard, anywhere in Westeros. We were loved by our father, all of us, and people were kind to our face, but only because they knew of his wrath and ours if insulted. We all knew how they really felt. None of my sisters or I was ever given a chance to wed. No noble sons came courting, though the four oldest of us are of marriage age and our father was the second most powerful man in Dorne. No one wanted a bastard in their family."
Olenna sighed. "Yes, it is true what you say. The taint of blood is a curse for many." Her eyes shifted to Sam, who had sat quietly. "And now I hear you have a bastard son from a wildling woman."
"Yes, I do," he admitted. "I love her and the boy." Sam felt the sting of her calling little Sam a bastard, but would not tell them he had recently legitimized Gilly's son. His father maybe did not know yet and Sam hoped it stayed that way when he met him.
"The Wall is no place for a family," Olenna said next.
"I know," he replied heavily. "I still haven't figured that part out yet. For now they will stay in Horn Hill."
"Complications abound," Olenna said. "For both of you. Well, not to worry. I am sure it will all work out. Let us be thankful our war with the Lannisters is over at least."
Each night they stopped at a small town or castle and found rooms and food and warmth from the cold. The snow covered the road in places, but men went ahead of them to make sure villagers and townspeople were shoveling the snow away from the road as best they could. It was in one of these towns they received the shocking news that Cersei Lannister had killed Ellaria Sand.
As they entered the town a man came to Lady Olenna's carriage. He was the local administrator. "A messenger arrived on horseback from King's Landing this morning, my lady. Said he was looking for you. Said he must speak to you in private, alone."
"What now?" she said in exasperation. "Very well, take me to him." She told the captain to take care of the horses and baggage and to find rooms for them in the biggest inn.
"The bitch has claws, even in captivity," Olenna said after she told them the surprising news that Ellaria was dead at the hands of Cersei. They were sitting at dinner in the inn's common room, their guards at all the tables around them, a portly innkeeper and his servants fussing about. The messenger had told her that birds had been sent with the news as well, but they must have already been on the road when they arrived in Highgarden.
Sarella's face paled at this news. "She is dead?" Maybe she cared for Ellaria after all, Sam thought.
"Yes," said Olenna. "Stabbed in the neck by Cersei, who screamed her daughter's name when she killed Ellaria."
"Myrcella," Sam said. "Cersei's daughter is Myrcella."
"She is dead, too," Olenna said as she sipped some wine. "Apparently killed by Ellaria Sand. Poisoned." By her tone it sounded like she disapproved.
"She was a Lannister, never a Baratheon," Sarella countered. "Her grandfather killed my father's sister and her children. If Ellaria did this she was only getting revenge for my father."
"Yes," replied Olenna. "But Myrcella did not kill them. She was not even born. Are the crimes of a family passed on to their children? Where will the bloodshed ever stop?"
Sarella was not one to back down. "You say this yet you've said it often enough that you will enjoy it when Cersei screams as she burns."
"Cersei killed many, including my son and grandchildren," Olenna shot back. "Who did Myrcella kill?"
"No one," Sam said. Sarella gave him a withering look. "Sorry, but I must agree with Lady Olenna."
Sarella was full of anger. She stood and went to the stairs and went up to their rooms.
"Sorry," Sam said to Lady Olenna.
"Stop apologizing all the time," she replied, irritated. "It makes you look weak. Well, weaker. When you see your father again please show me your have some balls."
"Sor…" Sam started and then stopped himself. "I will try harder."
"Good."
The next day Sarella refused to ride in the carriage and Sam decided he would not as well, for he owed a lot to Sarella. Lady Olenna seemed not to care and ordered them to be given horses. It was colder and less comfortable than the carriage but Sam had experienced much worse cold and conditions. Sarella hardly spoke to him from then on, only to be polite. She was deep in thought, he could see, and wondered if somehow she was planning revenge on Cersei Lannister.
Five days later they arrived at the city in the early afternoon, crossing over the ice covered Blackwater. Sam had only been nearby here once, but not in the city. On his way to the Wall he and his escorts had passed the capital but had not entered. The damage to the city was apparent as they came closer. The outer walls had gaps and the Red Keep looked scarred and burnt in places. Sarella had never been here before.
"It stinks," she said as she wrinkled her nose.
"It does," replied Sam. A unique smell, one he had not experience before, a combination of sewage, rotten food, smoke, fish, salt water…and death. That smell he knew, and the smell of burnt flesh as well, for the Watch burned its dead. Apparently they had been doing the same here. On the north bank of the Blackwater were several piles of black something, which turned out to be funeral pyres as they got closer. Bones stuck out and here and there a skull seemed to be leering or laughing at them.
"A city of death," Sarella said. "I wonder what they did with Ellaria."
"I am sure they burned her as well."
"I will know more when I talk to my sisters. There, I see the Dornish sigil." She was pointing to a large group of tents set up to the west of the city on flat ground. It must be our camp. I must say goodbye Sam, for now."
"Thank you…for saving my life."
"You're welcome," she said with a shy smile. Then she looked with worry behind Sam. "Here comes the lady's carriage. I must go Sam, before she finally decides to arrest me for killing Leo."
"Yes, go, swiftly."
A few moments later and lady Olenna alit from her carriage and Sam climbed down from his horse to speak to her. "Gods, I hate the smell of this cesspool," she complained. "Where is she going in such a hurry?"
"To her people," Sam said. "She fears you may finally decide to arrest her for Leo."
"That won't be necessary," she replied. "Her own people will deal with her."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked in worry.
"You and your friend did not hear all the news, Samwell Tarly. The messenger in that town told me more. Sarella's three older sisters are also dead."
"What?" Sam said in surprise. "How?"
"One was killed in the melee that followed Ellaria's death. The other two were killed by the Dornish later on."
"Killed? By their own people?"
"Yes. They were speaking on revenge, planning to kill Cersei and your father."
Sam felt a shock. "My father? But why?"
"Because he killed their sister. Your father killed one of Sarella's sisters in the melee."
"That's…that's terrible."
"Yes, it is. I feared what Sarella will do if she heard this news so I kept it from both of you. The Dornish will tell her…and then do what they will do."
"She doesn't know she's walking into a trap. I must stop her!" He tried to mount his horse but the captain of the guards blocked his way.
"Stand fast," the captain said in a stern tone. "They will kill you too if you interfere, and then we will have to go to war with Dorne." Apparently he had been told the whole story already.
"I must help her. She saved my life!"
"The only way you can help her Sam is to do nothing," Lady Olenna said.
"My father will help her when he knows she saved me."
"No, he will not," Olenna replied. "As I said, she may want to kill him."
But Sam was already heading for the city gates. "I must speak with him."
"Wait for me!" Olenna shouted to him.
They found Lord Tarly in the ruins of the Red Keep at a meeting of the Queen's small council. Lady Olenna was invited inside, but Sam was not, and had to cool his heels in a corridor with two large dark skinned men of the east guarding the doors to the inner chamber. Sam was nervous, as he always was when about to speak to his father. Finally, a young man wearing the sigil of a kraken on his leather armor came to the door.
"Are you Sam Tarly?"
"Yes."
"They want to speak with you," he said.
Sam suddenly knew who he was. "Theon Greyjoy?"
"Aye," he said, casting his eyes away in a nervous gesture. "You were in the Watch with Jon Snow, weren't you?"
"I was."
"I suppose he told you all about me."
"Much. He hates you," Sam blurted out before he could stop himself.
"I should not be surprised at that. Come, they are waiting."
Sam followed him into the room. There at a long table sat many people, his father included, sitting at one end with Lady Olenna next to him. Theon took a seat next to a woman who looked like him, his sister Yara, Sam guessed. He knew something of the Greyjoy family from his talks with Olenna on the road here. The bald chubby man in the center wearing lavender robes could only be the famed Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers. And there was Archmaester Marwyn, Sam was glad to see. Three others Sam did not know. One was handsome and young, dark haired and bearded, and worn strange clothing, maybe from the east. Another was blond and blue eyed, a large man who looked like a lord and warrior. The third was older, maybe a warrior as well, and he looked sort of familiar, as if Sam had met him before.
Archmaester Marwyn stood and came towards him. "Sam, I am glad you have come. We have much to discuss."
"Yes," said Lord Varys. "We wish to hear all about the Walkers and wights. Everything you know."
"Everything?" Sam said in surprise.
"Yes," said his father. "Tell them all you know, boy."
He stared at his father. "You didn't believe me. Why will they?"
His father's face began to grow red. "Boy, we have no time for this. We all know they are real now. Speak, damn you."
"No," Sam said, suddenly finding some courage from somewhere. "Not until I know what happens to Sarella."
His father was about to shout at him but Lady Olenna put a hand on his arm and he restrained himself. The blond warrior spoke. "I am Lord Anders Yronwood of Dorne, Sam. I have left orders for Sarella to be arrested if she shows up in our camp."
"You can't. She saved my life."
"She may want to kill your father," Lord Yronwood replied.
"Let her try," Lord Tarly said, as if he relished the chance to kill her.
Lady Olenna shook her head. "We will spill no more blood because of Cersei Lannister." She turned to Lord Yronwood. "Would it not serve us better to let the girl go? Send her back to Dorne."
"And what about Leo Tyrell, my lady?" Lord Tarly asked. "She did kill him. She admitted it to you."
"He was trying to kill your son," Lady Olenna said in exasperation.
"So they say," Lord Tarly shot back. "Well, boy. Is that the truth of it?"
"It is…my lord. And please do not call me 'boy' ever again…my lord. I am a man of the Watch and a maester in training." Sam found himself breathless after saying this but did not back down from his father's angry glare. Lady Olenna smiled. There, I showed you my balls, Sam thought.
Now Lord Tarly's face did grow red as Lord Varys tittered and several others chuckled. "We have no time for family squabbles," Lady Olenna said, with a look of irritation now on her face. "Sam and Sarella told me the tale and from what I heard from Oldtown it seems the truth. Archmaester, you will concur on this?"
"I will," said Marwyn. "Long they had been spying on me, not willing to believe in the Walkers or dragons or anything else. Now the truth is confronting them they are trying to hide from it. Sam was doing research on the Walkers, and they wanted it stopped. I feared they may try to do him harm. Luckily Sarella was there to save him from their assassin."
"This is all very interesting," said the man with strange clothing. "But I want to hear what he has to say about the Walkers."
"Yes," said the man who looked familiar. "I also want to know what happened to my father."
"Your father?" Sam said in surprise.
"I am Ser Jorah Mormont."
Sam suddenly knew why he knew him. He was the Old Bear's son. "I was there when your father died….was murdered, by mutineers." Strange how steady his voice sounded, as if he had no fears at all.
"Tell me it all," Ser Jorah said, his eyes intense. Now Sam felt some fear…and guilt. When the Old Bear had died he had felt enormous guilt for running from Craster's Keep, and feared what people would think of his failure to save him. But that had been so long ago, and suddenly he found himself wanting to explain it all.
"This can wait," Varys said, taking the chance away from Sam. "I am sorry, but we need first settle the matter of Oberyn Martell's daughter." He turned to Lord Yronwood. "What will become of the girl if you let her go?"
"I know not. Most of her family is dead now, so…"
"Excuse me," said Sam. "That is not correct. She has four younger half sisters, all Ellaria's children."
Now Lord Yronwood looked uneasy. "Yes. I know of the other children. Prince Oberyn had a will, and left his wealth and property to all his children to be divided equally."
"They are bastards," Lord Tarly said. "They cannot inherit." As he said this he was glaring at Sam, and Sam knew that his father had received word of what he had done.
"In Dorne such matters are overlooked if there is a proper will, and no legitimate children," said Lord Yronwood. "But all this is beside the point. Knowing her blood, there is little doubt she will seek revenge some day, on me, or Lord Tarly, on someone."
"I see," said Lord Varys. Then he looked at Sam. "I am afraid this matter is out of the council's hands. It is an internal matter for Dorne to decide. Does the council agree?"
The woman from the Iron Islands disagreed at once. "No. Let her go. She hasn't harmed any one. What makes you think she will?"
"She is a Sand Snake," Lord Yronwood said in exasperation. "She cannot be trusted."
The rest of the council except for Theon agreed with Lord Yronwood. Theon sided with his sister, but the rest cared not. Lady Olenna almost seemed to about to agree with the Greyjoys but then finally said it was a Dornish matter and therefore theirs to deal with.
"It's murder if you kill her," Sam said. Then he grasped at a straw. "What will the new Queen say about that?"
But before they could answer a messenger came with a note for Lord Yronwood. He said it was an emergency. Lord Yronwood went to the door, read it and then quickly excused himself. The rest of the councilors looked confused at this interruption, all except Lord Varys, who's mask of calm serenity seemed to be permanently etched on.
"The Queen is far away, Sam," Varys said. "She is in the North, at Winterfell, and she has won a great victory over the Walkers."
Sam felt a shock go through him. "Then…they are defeated?"
"Not yet," said Ser Jorah. "Some escaped, including their leaders. Jon Snow lives, but most of the Watch and many from the North and the Vale perished in the battles."
Sam was upset and spoke harshly. "Why are you all here sitting and doing nothing to help them?"
"There is no way to get to the North," said Ser Jorah. "We would lose many men to the cold and hunger before we even get to the Neck."
The ironborn woman scoffed. "We can go by sea and all will be well."
Varys sighed. "We have discussed this and we will not be risking our armies on the ocean in winter."
Yara snorted her disgust and then stood and left them as well, followed by her brother.
Varys shrugged. "Ironborn. To them the sea is a road. To the rest of us, a watery grave for our armies." Then he looked at Sam. "Well, if you would not mind, we need to know all you have learned."
Sam strode to the table and sat where Theon was just sitting, and Marwyn sat by his side. His father gave him another glare but said nothing. Varys smiled. "So the small council grows a bit larger. Welcome, Sam Tarly."
He spoke a length about all he knew of the White Walkers and wights, about how he killed one and what had happened to it, and everything else he could think of. When he finished they questioned him at length and then Ser Jorah asked him about his father. When Sam related the whole terrible tale, the knight thanked him, and he was finally dismissed. As he rose to leave Sam's father did as well.
"Come with me," was all his father said and they strode out the door.
In silence they walked, down a corridor and to a set of stairs. Three flights they went up and then into a large room, a solar with bedroom attached.
His father spun around and stared at him hard. "It won't stand, I tell you."
"I see mother has written you."
"She has. You are all conspiring to make your bastard my heir."
"We are, my lord."
"You have no right."
"Why do you hate me so much?"
His father was about to speak and then just shook his head. "You…you were supposed to be my heir! My blood, my first born son! But you became what you became, unworthy to bear my name, my arms, my sigil."
"I cannot help what I became," Sam said. "But I am still your blood."
"Not worthy to carry on my bloodline. Not like your brother."
"Dickon is dead."
"I know, damn you!" his father shouted, and then he gasped, and reached out a hand to steady himself on a chair's back. He was flush, his face very red. Sam stepped forward to help him but he stood straight and shook his head. "Leave off!"
Sam stood still while his father composed himself, taking several deep breaths. Finally he spoke. "Your brother is dead, killed in battle, a noble death."
"A waste," Sam said, feeling sad for Dickon's loss, but not overwhelmed like his father and mother and sister were. Sam had thought on his lack of grief for his brother and could only conclude that in part it was because of Dickon he had been sent to the Wall to die. If there had been no second son, Sam would still be Lord Tarly's heir. That was unfair to Dickon, for it was no fault of his he had been born into such a family, but Sam still could not help feel that way.
"You wouldn't understand about brave men in battle and what it all means," his father said. "Nose in a book, hiding behind your mother's skirts, a coward always."
"Not any more. I have been in battle, my lord. I understand perfectly."
"So, you think you are a man now, do you? Killed a few enemies and laid with a girl. Very well. Then understand this. Your bastard son…"
"He is not a bastard anymore. I named him as my son."
"So your mother said. That is on your head. As for the rest, your sister is my heir. Not your boy."
"She doesn't want it."
"She has no choice."
"Then Horn Hill will go to her husband if she marries and then their children."
"So be it."
Sam could not believe he wanted his line to end this way. "And what of the great Tarly name? My sister's children will not have it. But my son will."
"Your son will have your blood, and will grow to be as you. Just as unworthy."
"Maybe so. Or maybe not. Not if you are there, to raise him, and teach him to be a man."
"I tried to do that with you…and failed."
"He has more than my blood," Sam said, knowing he had to fight for little Sam and Gilly. "He has wildling blood. Tough northern blood, of a warrior people. Hardy, used to fighting for what they want. Not backing down." In fact, he was all northern wildling blood, but Sam and Gilly would never tell anyone that.
His father paused and stared at him…and a silence lingered. Sam did not want to speak, afraid he would say something to anger him again. Sam felt he was on the verge of agreeing…when the door opened.
It was Lady Olenna. "The snake has escaped!" she announced without a word of hello.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Sarella, she managed to run off before they could arrest her. Fled on her horse, they say."
Lord Tarly grunted. "You should have killed her on the road here."
"Yes, yes. I suppose I should have. But she is Dorne's problem to deal with. I want no part of this."
"I will deal with her," Lord Tarly said, reaching for his great sword Heartsbane which was leaning against a nearby stuffed chair.
"Stop, Randyll," Lady Olenna said and to Sam's surprise he did so. "We are out of it. They are running her down now. Maybe by sundown they will have her."
Sam hoped not. He hoped she got clean away.
Lady Olenna sat down and looked from father to son. "So, have you two made peace?"
"Not yet," said Lord Tarly. He looked back to Sam. "So be it. I will raise your…son…and in time if he proves his worth, he will be my heir. But not until I am satisfied he is no coward."
"Thank you…Father."
Lord Tarly grunted once more, in a dismissive tone. Sam knew that grunt, had heard it often enough when his parents argued on something. The matter was ended and he wanted no more words on it. "It is time for dinner. Where's that damn servant?" Lord Tarly said and he started for the door. No kind words Sam expected and none he got. At least he hadn't called him 'boy' again.
After he left the room Lady Olenna looked at Sam. "So, what are we to do with you?"
Sam had no idea. "I can't go back to Oldtown."
"No, you cannot."
"I guess I won't be the maester for the Watch."
"No. I have a better idea. I want you to stay here."
"Here? And do what?"
"Assist this Marwyn. Varys tells me the Queen may pick him to be Grand Maester."
"The Citadel decides that and they will never pick him."
"Well, I would not worry on that. This new Queen seems to not care much for old traditions. She will pick who she wants, she told Varys, or it will be nobody."
Sam smiled and then remembered. "I am a man of the Watch. I must return to the Wall."
"Perhaps. But no one is going to the Wall yet. Not while the demons are still out there."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Then it is settled. Now, let us have some food. And then I wish to speak to the whore who has murdered my family and has caused all this trouble. I would like her brother's head on a stake as well, but it seems the Queen has other ideas for Jaime Lannister."
Winterfell – Jaime
He left Winterfell the same way he had come, on dragon back, and he was glad to be gone. Not that Jaime had liked flying on a dragon. It was a terrifying experience, one he'd sooner not repeat. Up so high, on a strange beast, the heat of which was so uncomfortable even in the cold frigid air. Before they had left King's Landing in his mind he thought of shoving the Queen off and somehow getting his family back in power…but they had warned him about that.
"Try to kill her, and the dragons will kill you," the Tyrosh named Daario had said to him just before they took off.
"Dragons only obey one master," Jorah Mormont had added. "If she is not on it, it will make sure you aren't either. And if somehow you survive the fall, then they will bathe you in fire and chew your bones to dust."
So he hadn't pushed her off, and not just because of their warnings. He knew they needed her and her dragons. Jaime was no fool, despite the foolish things he sometimes did. He had seen what dragons could do. They would be a powerful enemy against the White Walkers, as she later proved.
The day after Baelish's execution she finally came to see him in the evening in his small prison room, with Tyrion behind her. "Good evening, Your Grace, brother," Jaime said after he stood from the bed and put down the book he had been reading. "I would offer some refreshments but my prison seems to be lacking the finer things in life."
"I'm sorry," she said and he actually believed she meant it. "We had a deal, I know."
"We did…and here I am."
"This is the Stark's home and they believe you committed a crime against the current Lord Stark."
"All lies," Jaime lied. Behind her he saw Tyrion wince as he said this. "The boy must have slipped and fallen."
Daenerys sighed. "The point is moot. They have no evidence but still want your head, but I won't allow it. I gave my word and I'll stand by it. You will go into exile. Tyrion is here to fill in the details. I will see you tomorrow." And she left without another word.
Tyrion took a seat while Jaime sat on his bed by the book. Tyrion nodded to the book. "A good read?"
Jaime shrugged. "Northern history. Quite bloody lot they are. Did you know they used to hang their enemy's guts in weirwood trees?"
"Yes, I am sure I read that somewhere," his brother replied. "Jaime…I have come not to discuss history. The Queen has agreed not to have you beheaded, as the Stark's want. If not, they want you gone from Winterfell as soon as possible. It is time to go."
"Good. Back to King's Landing, is it?"
"No…White Harbor…then across the Narrow Sea."
He was puzzled. "The war is not over yet. That was the deal."
"The deal has changed."
"Gods, I knew I could not trust her."
"Anymore than anyone trusts our family after all we have done?" Tyrion answered.
Jaime had no clever reply to that for he knew his brother was right. "Very well. It is time I was out of this stinking room. Tell the Queen I will be ready whenever she is."
"After breakfast. Meet her in the godswood. That's where the dragons are now."
"Fine. But with her gone for a few days what will happen if the wights come calling?"
"A chance we will take. Patrols have seen them earlier today, but they were few in number and disappeared when the Queen went aloft. If they do come in strength, not to worry, we still have Snow on his dragon, plus the other one."
"Snow…on his dragon? Gods, you mean he can fly one?"
"Yes. A Targaryen through and through. Actually, I am quite jealous."
"You always wanted to fly a dragon."
"Well, maybe I will get a chance soon, if Snow will agree to take me with him. But first there is more news, which you cannot tell anyone." Quickly Tyrion explained about a legend and a sword they found underground, and it all seemed like a pile of nonsense.
"You are letting your mind run riot again," Jaime said with a chuckle. "Myths and magic swords? It's preposterous."
"Many would think so, but if you had seen the sword, you would believe. Only Snow could lift it from the statue and it flooded with light and heat when he held it."
"Well then, we have no more worries. This Prince and his magic sword will save us all from our deadly foes."
"Jaime…it is true, you must believe."
"I believe you believe it, little brother. As for me, I care not. I won't be here, so…for the rest of you who are staying, I hope it is true."
"Yes. Well, to the point. The Stark's want you gone or they may change their minds on your fate. So off you go with the Queen tomorrow. Lord Manderly has written a letter to tell his people to put you on a fast ship as soon as practical. Destination, Pentos. The Queen has written another letter for you to give to Illyrio Mopatis." He took the letters from a front pocket and handed them over. "And I will have a third one for you in the morning, for the Iron Bank, to advance you a sum of money for you to live on in comfort."
"Yes…it seems you have it all settled."
Tyrion sighed. "I am sorry…but I am afraid we will not see each other for a long time to come."
"I know there are strong feelings that if you ever return I will be killed. But you could always visit."
Tyrion seemed to brighten at this. "Yes, when the chance presents itself I shall."
Suddenly Jaime had an idea forming in his mind. "Come with me, brother. Bring Bronn as well. Imagine what we three could do in the east!"
Tyrion balked, as Jaime expected. "Sorry, brother, my place is here, with the Queen."
Jaime was disappointed but shrugged it off. "I knew you loved being around power too much."
"Afraid so. What will you do in the east?"
"Do? I don't know. Bronn said I could join a free company if I get bored. They even take one handed men he said…for arrow fodder."
"He would know. Jaime…try to stay out of anything…political. Men will try to use you for their own means. Your name means something. Wealth, and a connection to me, Hand of the Queen."
"You know I hate politics. I was never much good for anything but killing men. Maybe I will join a free company."
Tyrion sighed. "Can't you just…live…and enjoy life. Find a woman, have a family."
"I had a woman…and a family," Jaime said in bitter tones. "But I could never tell anyone or show my love for them."
"No, I suppose not."
"I doubt I shall ever love another."
"Yes…I understand that all too well."
"Shae?"
"Yes."
"We found her in Father's bed."
"That's where I killed her." Tyrion's voice was almost a whisper as he spoke on her.
Jaime knew he had done it but as yet he had not admitted to it. "Why? Because she was sleeping with…"
"No," Tyrion said sharply. "Because she had betrayed me. She knew the truth. She lied on the witness stand and sealed my fate. Hers and Father's as well. Enough of the past. You leave after breakfast tomorrow. I'll have a bag packed with some extra clothing and food and wine for you."
"My sword and armor as well?"
"Yes. On the morrow."
"I would like a bath before I leave."
"You certainly need one, but I think the Starks won't like that."
"The Queen will like the smell of me less once we are side by side on her beast."
Tyrion nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
He left then, leaving Jaime with his thoughts on all that had happened and would happen. He did not look forward to going to the east, for he had never been there and knew little about it. Going to Pentos, a fine city it was said. The Queen's friend was supposed to help him. An odd choice, and he wondered what her real motives were. He'd have to be on his toes when he arrived over there…and maybe ever after. He had killed her father after all. All the while he was on her dragon he expected her to kill him in some way. But it seemed she was a woman of her word. A promise made was one to be kept. Much like her brother Rhaegar.
When they had stopped at Moat Cailin to water and feed the dragons, she had asked him about Rhaegar.
"Yes, I knew him quite well," Jaime had told her. "I believe he was all set to overthrow your father at one point. When he rode to the Trident he left me behind. He promised to make things better when he returned."
"But he never did."
"No…Robert won."
"And you joined him…after killing my father."
"You know he had to die," Jaime had replied. "He was ruining the kingdom. Everyone hated your family. When he killed Rickard and Brandon Stark that was the last straw. And then he wanted to destroy King's Landing."
"Tell me how it happened," she had asked, the eagerness in her voice clear.
Jaime obliged. "He was on his throne, screaming for his pyromancer, but he was already dead, his blood on my sword. Aerys had earlier told me to kill my father, whose army was at the gates, but that I would not do. When he saw me with my bloody sword, somehow he knew it was not my father's blood. He ran and I caught him from behind and killed him at the foot of the Iron Throne. One cut was enough. He bled to death."
By the time he had finished the tale she was glaring at him, her face a mask of anger, breathing deeply. But then she calmed herself, her will to do so strong, and in a few moments she was relaxed. "Yes," she said. "Maybe he did have to die." They spoke no more on the past after that.
Jaime was just drifting off to sleep when there was a knock. He sat up. "Come."
In came Brienne, carrying a bucket of hot water, and a small towel wrapped around a bar of soap.
"My bath I take it?"
"Yes. Sorry," she said as she placed the bucket on the floor and the towel and soap on the chair Tyrion had been sitting on earlier. "The best I can do."
"I see. Well, better than nothing." He stood and she just stood there, staring at him. "Well, would you like to watch or will you be going?"
"I came to say my goodbyes, Jaime." She had that look on her face again, as if she would do anything for him, as if she truly loved him.
He sighed heavily. "I…I cannot give you what you want."
She flushed and cast her eyes down. "I know. You love her."
"Yes. Maybe…I don't know anymore."
"Even now, after all she has done, after you ordered her to be arrested, you can still think you love her?"
"We don't choose the one we fall in love with, I once said to you. It just is. Can you understand that?"
"I can," she said and then she turned and was gone.
The next morning they prepared to leave Winterfell just after breakfast. Jaime's legs were stiff after being locked up for so many days. At least he didn't stink so much anymore. After a serving girl took his breakfast tray away Bronn showed up in Jaime's room with the promised bag of clothing and food plus his sword and armor. Jaime also still had the dagger Tyrion had given him which he now hid by the small of his back in its leather sheath, within easy reach of his good hand.
"Sure you can still swing this thing with your left arm?" Bronn asked as he handed over the sword.
"Want to find out?"
Bronn chuckled. "You know how that would end."
Jaime knew. "Yes, I suppose so. You proved that enough times."
Bronn escorted him to the godswood where the dragons were tied up. As they walked across the courtyard, many evil looks came his way. Up on a high walkway he saw the girl Arya standing with the tall blacksmith by her side, the girl glaring at him.
"Those two got the better of us both," Jaime said.
"Aye, that they did," Bronn said as he noticed them too. "She really hates you."
"I know."
"So, did you push him or not?"
"Leave it, would you please?"
"Aye. But they won't. Ever."
"Then it is best I am far away from here. I never should have come."
"That's what I said to your brother."
"I had to see him…to put the past behind us."
In the godswood Tyrion and the Queen waited, with a third person, a young man dressed all in black, with two swords, one strapped across his back and another by his side. Jaime knew it could only be one person.
"The famed Jon Snow, is it not?" Jaime asked Bronn as they approached. Jaime had not seen him the last time he was here, for Lady Catelyn had hidden her husband's bastard away from royal eyes.
"That's him all right."
"Jon Snow," Jaime said as they approached. "Ser Jaime Lannister."
"Aye, I know who you are," the man said, stern and dour like Eddard Stark had always been. Maybe he was his son after all. "I came to give you a warning, never to…"
"Yes, yes, your sister Sansa has already told me. Well, your cousin at least. My blood will spill if I ever come back to Westeros, she warned me."
"Then don't come back," Snow said. He turned to the Queen. "Don't be long, Your Grace. If they attack I don't know if I can hold them by myself."
She smiled at him. "Two days or three at most. You will be fine. Just remember what I taught you."
He dipped his head to her and was about to leave, but Jaime stopped him. "Snow. My brother loves dragons and would like a ride."
Snow looked from him to Tyrion. "So be it. When I feel more confident you shall have that ride."
Tyrion grinned. "Well, now I have something to look forward to besides Bronn's bawdy jests."
Snow left them and then the Queen climbed aboard her dragon. "It is time, my lord."
"Not a lord anymore," Jaime said. "Tyrion is lord of the Rock now."
Then he looked at Tyrion and knew he had one more thing to tell him. "Tyrion…"
But Tyrion was fiddling in his pocket and came out with a letter for him. "I almost forgot. For the Iron Bank. You must live in some style. And remember, a Lannister…"
"Always pays his debts," Jaime finished. He had one more debt to pay. "Tyrion…I….I…"
"Yes?"
He wanted to tell him, tell him it all, about how they had tricked him, how the girl he had married years ago wasn't a whore, but was a girl they met by chance, being chased by those men for real, not because Jaime had paid them to put on a mummer's show just so Tyrion could get laid. The girl had truly loved him…and then his father had ruined it all, saying she wasn't worthy enough for Tyrion, though he was the lowest of the Lannisters in their father's eyes. Making Jaime tell Tyrion he had paid the men and the girl so he could have a woman for the first time. He had to tell him the truth…but then he knew he could not, because he loved his brother, and he could not shatter him in this way. Or maybe he was just protecting himself from one more person in the world hating him. He had no family left…he could not destroy the last one who he could call brother and friend.
"I…I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from them," he said at last. "Father and Cersei. I should have done more. I should have stood up to them."
"You did all you could," Tyrion said. "When they wanted something they usually got it. Except for my death, and I cheated them of that final pleasure."
"You did. They were so horrible to you, always. Maybe Father deserved that crossbow bolt after all."
Tyrion sighed. "All I ever wanted was to please him."
"Yes…so did I. A fine job we did."
"We will talk on it all when I see you in the east," Tyrion said, blinking his eyes, on the verge of tears. "Well, brother, be safe. Keep a warm house with plenty of wine and a few ladies about and perhaps I shall never return here."
"You will. You love it too much."
"I do at that."
Jaime stooped and hugged his brother, briefly or he never would let go, and then he stood again. "It is time," Daenerys said.
"How is it?" Tyrion asked Jaime. "The dragon ride."
"Terrifying. You would love it."
"I know I will."
Jaime mounted behind the Queen, feeling the heat of the dragon again as he did so. "Goodbye, brother!" Tyrion called out as the dragon began to race across an open space between the trees. "May the gods look after you."
Jaime held on tight as they rose higher, and then the dragon circled twice over the castle, and he had one last glimpse of Tyrion waving his little hand, and Jaime fought back the tears, knowing perhaps he would never see him again.
King's Landing – Cersei
Her slight wound was healing and she was out of danger of corruption, the archmaester said, and so on the third day of her captivity she was taken to the black cells. They at least had survived her attempts to destroy the Red Keep. As the guards took her they passed piles of broken stone and knocked down doors, shattered glass and crumbled masonry.
Aptly named and aptly feared were the black cells. Complete darkness, a filthy cold stone floor, and the sound of rats scurrying about. She had been in prison before, in the sept's dungeons, but there she had light at least. Now in the darkness her mind began to go in all directions. She had to calm herself, think on airy places with plenty of light, of the good times in her life, of better days.
She had been Queen of half the world once, the most powerful person from the most powerful family in Westeros…and now it was all gone. How many had conspired against her and her family she knew not, but many who had were now dead. As she thought on all the events of the past few years, she knew one event which had led to this point...the death of Jon Arryn, and she had no one to blame for that because she didn't know who had killed him. His death had brought them to Winterfell, where Jaime had pushed the boy. His death had brought Ned Stark south, where he discovered her secret and forced her hand.
She had wanted Robert dead for years and only when he was gone had she realized she should never have wanted him dead for he was the linchpin that kept the kingdom together. Yet she also knew his death would have come eventually, for Robert would have died of drink, sloth, gluttony, and lust before long. She thought Joffrey would be able to replace him, with Cersei behind him, the real power of the throne. But Joffrey had other ideas, and Cersei knew she could never control him, and that the realm would some day loathe him as they had loathed Aerys. But once Ned Stark had discovered her terrible secret she had to act, and with Robert's death came the rest of the folly that had led to this moment.
Jon Arryn's death had precipitated all that, and now here she was, her family mostly dead, her children all gone, and she was about to be tried and executed. She had committed crimes, of that there was no doubt. But in all cases she was only trying to save her own life. Save her life from an overbearing father, a faithless husband, a treacherous brother, a domineering priest, a people who hated and had humiliated her. Was all that even a crime? Wouldn't anyone have done the same if put in the same position?
Now she was cold and alone in the dark. She wore only the linen shift she had worn when lying in her sick bed. It was thin and she was freezing and filthy after sleeping on the dirty floor of the cell. The archmaester had protested this treatment but the rest did not. Meals came, porridge and a weak soup and bread. A skin of water each time too, and she gulped it eagerly, but rationed it because she did not know when the next would come. How much time had passed she didn't know either, but she had counted eight meals before they came to take her out.
"Is it time for my trial?" she asked her guards as she blinked in the light of their torches.
"No," one said. "Someone wants to speak to you."
They put chains on her wrists and ankles and up they took her, shuffling along between them, the light growing as they emerged from underground, into upper corridors, and then a room. Here was a table, with three people behind it. Varys, Ser Jorah Mormont, and Lady Olenna Tyrell. The old hag had come for her vengeance, Cersei knew. She was put on a chair in front of them, shivering, a clatter of chains as she moved. Two guards stood by her sides and two more stood by the doors.
"She stinks," the Queen of Thorns said at once, her face curdled in disgust.
"The black cells are not a seaside villa," Varys said.
"I suppose not," Olenna replied. "Well, look at you. How far the mighty have fallen."
"Not as far as your son and grandchildren," Cersei said with a half grin. "I hope they are in some deep dark hell."
"Bitch!" Olenna retorted, full of venom. "How dare you sully their memory! I ought to have you dragged out and burnt at the stake at once!"
"That will not happen," Ser Jorah said strongly. "The Queen's orders are…"
"Yes, yes," said Olenna in irritation. "We all wait on our dear little Queen to return."
"I told you this would not be pleasant," Varys said. "She still has claws."
"Don't speak as if I am not here, you pompous ass," Cersei said to Varys. "I was once your queen, or have you forgotten all those years you spent whispering in my ear."
"How could I forget?" Varys said. "So much we shared…all gone to pieces now."
Then she remembered. "You let Jaime into the black cells that night."
"I did. His sword at my throat, mind you. He let Tyrion go, not me. And Tyrion killed your father, not me."
"You ran. Just as guilty."
"I ran because if I had not I would have been a guest of the black cells, or sitting in that chair with chains as you are now, a rope waiting for me. I also ran because it was time to bring my true queen home."
"You were always loyal to the Targaryens, even as you helped Robert."
"Always," he admitted. "With one hand I sent assassins after the Mad King's children, with the other I sent warnings. A dangerous game, but it all worked out."
"I should have had your head years ago," Cersei shot back.
"Yes, you should have."
"Enough reminiscing," Olenna said. "I want to know a thing or too."
"Am I on trial?" Cersei asked.
"Not yet," Ser Jorah said. "This is an informal hearing, to satisfy Lady Olenna's…curiosity."
Olenna barged ahead with her questions. "Why did you kill my son and grandchildren? They meant you no harm."
Cersei shrugged. "I wanted the priests gone. By chance they were in the sept that day."
"You knew they would be there, for Loras' trial. For your trial! You managed to keep your son away. Why not them as well?"
"Because they needed to die," Cersei spat. "They needed to die so I could have my son back! That little doe eyed whore had him wrapped around her finger! He was my son! They wanted me sent off to Casterly Rock, to live out my days all alone."
"Gods, woman," Olenna said with a shake of her head. "How stupid you are. That is the fate of all mothers. Their sons get married and the wives take over. In my case, I was glad of it. More time to relax and enjoy what time the gods left me. Decades, it turns out, long enough to endure this horror. You should have done the same, gone peacefully and be glad of it. How many you murdered is beyond compare. A whole city in ruins, tens of thousands dead. Your name will be cursed for all eternity."
"They deserved it, all of them," Cersei said. "I only wish you had been there as well. You had a chance to stop it all, to throw down the priests, kill them, and save my son from their claws. But no, your son was too cowardly to act. If Robert had been here, blood would have flowed in the septs. Even Joff would have killed them. If my father had been here…"
Olenna sighed loudly. "You do go on. All in the past." She stood. "I have heard enough. And the smell of her is making my stomach turn. Make sure she at least looks presentable for her trial. Good-day."
After she was gone, Varys told the guards to take Cersei back to her cell.
"Wait," Cersei said. "Daenerys, where is she?"
"Still in Winterfell," Ser Jorah said. "They won a great battle, but are uncertain what the surviving Walkers will do next."
"And Jaime?"
Varys answered. "Gone."
"Gone?" she gulped. She thought he meant he was dead.
"Across the Narrow Sea," he said. "The Queen wrote us. She flew Jaime to White Harbor and saw him leave on a ship that had orders to take him into exile to Pentos."
Cersei sighed. "I had hoped to see him one more time."
"I am afraid you will never see him again," Ser Jorah said.
She became ill after that, a fever and a bad cough, and Varys had her taken out of the black cells, bathed, and put in a proper room where a maester could care for her. She was delirious and in her state she only wanted to die, for she had nothing left to live for. They had to keep her alive for the trial after all, so the maesters went to work.
Four days later she was better. In the morning as she was sitting up in her bed came the great shock. In he walked, with Varys and Ser Jorah.
It was Jaime.
Her heat beat faster and she began to smile…but then she remembered. "GET OUT!" she screamed.
He stood fast. "How good to see you as well, sister dear." He was heavily bearded and his hair long, like when he had first escaped from the Starks.
"How could you?" she said, hurt in her tone. "You ordered them to arrest me."
"I did," Jaime said, casting his eyes down, as if ashamed.
"Why?"
"To save our army."
"They should have died first, to protect me! Their queen!"
"Nothing could have saved them or you, Cersei," he said, coming closer to her bed. "The dragons would have destroyed us all. I owed the men a chance to live. You were the price."
"Coward," she spat. "You did it to save your own skin. I heard all about your deal. Exile for you, a fire for me."
"Yes, exile…if I ever get there. A storm almost sunk us and we were blown south to here, barely limping along on one mast and some oars."
"I wish you had drowned."
"I think that is enough, Ser Jaime," said Varys. "She has just recovered from a bad illness after all."
"Can't I speak to her alone?" Jaime asked. "I promise we won't try to escape. I have one hand and you already took my armor and have my sword."
Ser Jorah nodded. "Come, he is going no where with her," he said and he and Varys left.
As soon as they were gone Jaime came to the bedside and sat on the bed right beside her. She was about to scream again when he put his left hand over her mouth. "Shsssh…there is no time. I need to explain much."
She nodded and he pulled down his hand and he began to whisper.
"They want your blood, all of them, the whole city, those that still live. They know you are here. The crowds are growing restless. Soon Varys and the rest may not be able to control them. He has sent letters to Daenerys, asking her to return as soon as possible. She is coming, her last letter said. Your trial will begin as soon as she arrives."
"When?"
"A day or two…and we both know how that will go."
"Let's run!"
He shook his head.
"Coward."
That stung, she knew it, but she had no feelings for him anymore.
"Cersei…the whole city wants your blood. If they see us outside these walls they will tear us to pieces. Even worse, after your trial the people want you to burn at the stake, burn like you burned their city and families."
"Gods," she said, feeling her heart flutter.
"Daenerys will want something less painful, but she may have to agree with them. You will die, of that there is no doubt."
Tears sprang to her eyes. "Isn't there any other way? Can't I go with you?"
He sighed. "I asked…they said no. Not after what you have done here."
"You know why I did it."
"I know. But it was wrong."
"They humiliated me!"
"Not all of them."
"We should have stayed and fought."
"We never could have won."
She sighed. "I know. If only Tommen hadn't jumped." She gasped. "If only…my poor boy…our poor boy. Our children."
She reached for him and he hugged her tight. "I won't let them burn you," he whispered in her ear and then he cried and gasped. "I love you!"
The pain came, on her right side, under the ribs, a blade entering her body, reaching up for her heart. She gasped, all the air taken from her, and she arched her back as agony spread from the dagger wound. The blade was pulled out and warmth flown down her stomach, the warmth of spilling blood, her blood, draining the last of her life away.
"Jaime!" she cried out, a scream.
There was the sound of the door slamming open and running feet. "Gods, what has he done?" Varys shouted.
"He's killed her!" Ser Jorah yelled.
She felt hands trying to pry them apart, but Jaime held on tight, would not let go.
"I love you!" he sobbed again and she could barely speak now but managed three final words.
"I love you." And she meant it, for what he had done was done from love, of a life they had shared since their birth.
Darkness crowded her eyes, and her mind drifted, back to a woods near her home, and a witch woman who said her little brother would kill her one day. She always thought it meant Tyrion, but of course Jaime was her little brother as well, being born a few moments after her.
And then came the last thought, of home, and the mother who had brought her into the world, a woman she had lost so long ago, and now she would see her once again in the afterlife. If she could have she would have thanked Jaime, for sparing her the agony of fire, and she knew in the end he did truly love her, and one day she hoped to see him again as well.
THE END
Yes, the end. This is all I can really do with the story until we see season 7 for real. I have taken it as far as it can go. If I continue from this point I will get into territory I have already covered in my fanfic Ned Stark Lives, with its grand battles and strategy and all, and I really don't want to repeat myself. If you haven't read it yet, please do, for it covers the whole war from start to finish.
I know there are some loose ends. What will happen with Sarella? (She will get away and lead a rebellion in Dorne with her little sisters. Just joking…maybe. Not even sure if she will be in the show. Most likely not.) Does Jon's new sword kill wights and Walkers? (Yes it does…more on that if I decide to write Season 8 next year…if he finds the sword in the show) What will happen with Jaime? (Hmmm, uncertain, but there will be some pissed off people. Again for the future if he still lives in season 8). Who is the third dragonrider? (I am sure you can guess. He is short and loves women and wine and…oops, I've said too much).
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and thank you to those who commented. Like you I will be eagerly anticipating next year's season of the show, and more books. (Please hurry George. I am getting older and so are you.) Bye for now.
Steve, Seoul, Korea