Rosby/King Landing 304 AC.
Olenna Tyrell.
Though the king and queen had done what they could, the needs of the North were more pressing even than those of the survivors of the destruction of King's Landing. So it had been left to Olenna, Desmera, Aurane Velaryon, and others to deal with the chaos of the South while Baelon and Daenerys dealt with the danger in the North. Olenna may have at times thought her king and queen had the easier task, but they were but fleeting thoughts.
It took weeks for the true extent of the damage to be seen and even then, it was through eyes that were forced to deal with an eternal night. The gods were not content with death, destruction, hunger, and homelessness. Not even with sending a force that Olenna could barely comprehend with but one task, to see them all dead. They wished them to face it all while denying them the sun too. Still, she forbore it because she had to. Her strength was needed and while she may bemoan that it had fallen to her as Hand, Olenna had vowed she'd prove herself up to it regardless.
At first, she'd based herself on Dragonstone, but logistics, time, and the sheer amount of work she needed to do had soon brought her to Rosby. Desmera had come too even despite Olenna wishing her far away from things. Her granddaughter proved herself to be much like Margaery was and was keen to help out where she could. Be it with a kind word, a warm meal, or an extra blanket. Even one night with a song that brought a smile to Olenna's face and made her forget just how very tired she truly was.
"You should rest, grandmother."
"I'll be dead soon enough girl, I'll rest then." she replied and then moved to offer comfort to Desmera who looked worried at the idea of her time coming to an end "But not yet," she said simply, to a nod of Desmera's head.
The sheer scale of loss was something that Olenna couldn't believe possible and yet they'd been lucky too. Close to 50,000 people were dead or unaccounted for and mayhap half that again wouldn't make it through the winter, mild though it seemed to be for now. Among them were some important people, some who'd be considered very much not, and some that Olenna would almost name as friends. Ellaria Sand's body had not been found, but her jewelry had. Burned, and melted, the blackened rings and locket told the story of the woman's fate most clearly.
To her surprise, Varys still lived. His little birds had sought her out after the king and queen had left to go North and Olenna had been taken to him. He had been badly burned and was almost unrecognizable, yet somehow he had survived. While he was yet to wake from whatever sleep held him, a part of her believed that he may very well do. If it was up to his little birds he certainly would as they were most diligent with his care. Each of them helped to clean him, feed him and keep him as comfortable as any man in his condition could be.
Olenna had sent a raven to Winterfell telling the king and queen of both his survival and Ellaria's loss. Then she had gotten back to work. The Kingswood's trees had provided wood for temporary and not-so-temporary accommodation. Keeps, towns, villages, and holdfasts had taken in refugees that were able to travel and both Dragonstone and Driftmark were as full as they had ever been. Her Goodson had recovered from his injuries and his fleet had been sent far and wide in search of food and supplies. Both to purchase and to capture as some of the ships of the Arbor were, for now, little more than fishing vessels.
Her days had become a routine. She'd wake, go over the lists of the supplies that they had, that were needed, and where they may be obtained from. Then she'd break her fast with her granddaughter and her betrothed, Ser Humfrey proving himself both a capable man and one who was enamored with Desmera at the same time. Desmera and she would tour the camps, and speak to mothers, fathers, and even children, though mainly to the healers. They'd eat their luncheon with those with nowhere else to go, showing them that they too ate little better than they did. Then she'd visit Varys' tent and after leaving, she'd then spend the end of her day going over her correspondence. She was doing so when Erryk entered her solar. Olenna sitting alone and taken aback by the sight of her giant guard walking towards her unannounced. Her heart thumped in her chest as she awaited what she feared was bad news, only to find it was very much not.
"He's truly awake?" she asked Desmera as she met up with her granddaughter in the courtyard of Rosby.
"He is, grandmother, he's asking for you."
It happened as they traveled in the carriage. One moment it was night and the next the sun shined and it was now day once more. Sitting inside the carriage in the darkness, it took the excited voices from outside to alert Olenna and Desmera to it and when her granddaughter opened the shade, they both had to shield their eyes from the first daylight they'd seen in weeks.
"They did it. He did it," she said happily as she willed her eyes to readjust to the light.
"Did what? Who? The king?"
"The prince that was promised will bring the dawn," Olenna said in reply to Desmera's questions.
As they neared where Varys was being treated, the sounds of cheering and singing grew louder. Climbing out of the carriage, Olenna squinted and yet could see the happy faces all around her. The children's expressions alone were enough to fight away any tiredness she was feeling. Despite wishing to stand and enjoy the moment, something made her hurry to Varys' tent and she arrived with little time to spare. Awake though he was, it was clear he was not long for this world, and taking her place beside him, Olenna tried not to grimace when she felt his burned hand reach out for her.
"I… The King, the Queen?" Varys coughed.
"Have done it, Varys. They've beaten the army of dead men and Baelon and Daenerys have brought the dawn."
"They live? They…" he coughed again.
"They live, Varys." Olenna lied as she shook her head at Desmera and bid her to remain silent. She believed they did, hoped they did, but until she actually received news from them, she couldn't be sure. Still, if these were to be Varys' last moments, then he deserved some comfort in them.
"It was…." Varys coughed even louder and one of the little birds handed her a mug filled with water, Desmera holding Varys' burned head as Olenna placed the mug at his lips.
It took all she had not to turn away from the sight of him drinking it down. The true extent of his injuries was finally shown and laid bare and never would she have wished them on her worst enemy. After he'd quenched his thirst, he coughed once more and then fell silent and Olenna worried that he'd passed, only for him to grip her hand tightly and speak once more, this time for the last time.
"Tyrion, Olenna, it was Tyrion. He set the Wildfire alight and…."
"How can you be sure?"
"Tell my king and queen I'm sorry I failed them….Tell them….."
"You didn't fail them Varys, they and I know this to be true."
He smiled a gruesome smile and then she felt his hand loosen its grip on her own. Desmera looked at her and laid his head back on the pillow and around them, his little birds wept silently. Olenna bid a grave be dug for him and found one on a hill that overlooked King's Landing somewhat. Wasting no time to bury him, she said some words over his grave herself, and by the time night fell once more, she was back in Rosby at her desk once again.
When she woke the next morning, she, like everyone else she wagered, immediately moved to see if the sun shone still and was greatly relieved to find it did. It would make things easier and allow them to see even more the extent of the damage and of the rebuilding that would be required. More than anything though, it would mean that they'd soon be joined by the king and queen, or so she hoped. Before breaking her fast, she wrote out the note and it was sent by a raven that night. How Tyrion Lannister had managed to destroy most of a city and kill so many people, she knew not, but the truth of him would soon be known to one and all. She prayed she'd see him suffer for his crimes and then readied to begin her day for true once more.
A week later.
The arrival of the raven had been most welcome, especially given the news it carried. Though the note spoke of losses, the two she most wished for had survived and were now traveling south once more. Olenna was both greatly relieved that the king and queen had come through the battle unscathed and eager to see them both again. Keen too to see Tyrion Lannister pay for what he'd done. Unlike Olenna though it may have been, she'd spoken the words as she stood over Varys' grave. Telling him wherever he was that he'd not died in vain and that the dynasty he sought to see rise high would do so out of the ashes of the city he'd died in.
It wasn't just the arrival of a raven that focussed Olenna's attention, as three days after it had arrived, the ships from Meereen did too. Olenna was asleep in Rosby when they did so. Her granddaughter woke her with the news and despite the tiredness she felt, she dressed quickly and broke her fast in the carriage that took her to the docks.
They'd cleared the debris and had torn down any buildings that were no longer safe. So the ride to the docks was one done almost out in the open. Close to a third of the city was uninhabitable. Nearly a quarter of it had been destroyed outright, while a little more was damaged too severely to do anything but remove the rubble and start anew. Yet, in the cold light of day, things had been shown to be not as bad as they could have been. Flea Bottom was destroyed, though not from the initial blast, and in truth that was a good thing. For when they rebuilt, and rebuild they would, those poor wretches would be given a much better future than the past they'd known.
As the carriage finally made it to the docks, Olenna steadied herself and readied to meet the captains of the ships that had arrived. Desmera helped her from the carriage and Erryk and Arryk took up their positions to both her and her granddaughter's sides. No sooner had she stepped away from the carriage than she saw Aurane Velaryon move her way.
"Lady Hand." Aurane said with a small bow of his head as he did so.
"Lord Velaryon. The ships?"
"A dozen, my lady. Bearing supplies of coin and food for her grace from the city of Meereen." Aurane said as he moved even closer "Their captain is the commander of said city, a Daario Naharis I believe he named himself." Aurane then said more quietly.
Olenna knew the name. While the queen had spoken little of her time in Essos other than in generalities, Missandei had been more forthcoming. The young woman was most proud of Daenerys' achievements and the taking of the city of Meereen was but one of them. Daario Naharis to the best of Olenna's recollection had been a sellsword who had joined the queen's service. There may have been more to their relationship than that, or that was at least the impression that Olenna had been given, yet it had never been stated outright.
"He says he bears other gifts for his queen too, my lady." Aurane said, his tone showing he liked the man not.
Olenna looked to her guards and then bid Aurane to take her to this sellsword. She was led to one of the buildings that still stood, the docks having taken some damage but not as much as elsewhere. The building served as sort of a gathering place for the captains of the ships to meet and contained a tavern that was supplied by the ships themselves. Entering it, Olenna was stunned to see that there was only Essosi in the large open room. As she turned to Aurane, he pointed out the sellsword and Olenna made her way to where Daario sat.
Daario was a relatively handsome man, though his arrogance and cockiness were clear to see in how he lounged in his seat. The look he gave her was dismissive, while the look he gave Desmera was anything but. His lust for her granddaughter was all too clear to see as he practically undressed her with his eyes. It made Olenna glad that Ser Humfrey was elsewhere as the last thing she needed was a pissing contest between two men over a woman that only had eyes for one of them. The thought then came to her head that if indeed there had been something between this man and her queen, she may find herself witnessing such a thing soon enough regardless.
"My name is Olenna Tyrell, I'm Hand to their graces King Baelon and Queen Daenerys Targaryen," Olenna stated.
"Daario Naharis, Commander of the Second Sons and Protector of the Great City of Meereen and the Bay of Dragons," Daario said without moving from his seat.
"You bring supplies for your queen?" she asked to a nod of the man's head "I'll see you're given the men to help them be unloaded."
"The food only," Daario said and though he irked her with his look and tone, for now, she cared not for what coin he may have brought and food was a far more pressing concern.
"Food only." she agreed.
"My queen, where is she?" Daario asked, still lounging as casually as he'd been since she first entered the large open room.
"She and his grace led their armies North where they've won the world the greatest victory it's ever known." Olenna said, her words for those others present as much as they were for the man she spoke them to "They now make their way back and should return within the moon."
"I look most forward to seeing her, for I've brought my queen other gifts that will please her greatly."
Had those gifts not been brought out and shown to her then Olenna would have worried about how Daario spoke those words. She'd have concentrated on that and only that, were it not for the two heads that were placed on the table in front of the sellsword. While she may have only met Euron Greyjoy once, she recognized him easily and even more so by the head that was next to him. Without thought and quicker than she normally was able, Olenna moved to the table and picked up Cersei Lannister's severed head in her hands.
The spit was unbidden and landed right between the green eyes that Olenna hated with all she was. Salt or something else, Olenna cared not how the head had been preserved and to her, it looked as if it had just been severed. Though that was clearly not true. This was the woman who'd cost her almost all she loved in the world, the woman she wished dead more than any other living being. She'd wished it to be at her own hands and yet as she looked at what seemed to be Cersei's terror-stricken expression, she cared not. Only the fact that she was dead truly mattered in the end. That and she died before Olenna herself breathed her last and shuffled from this mortal coil.
"How?" she asked. Her words were barely a whisper.
"She and the pirate with her believed they could take my queen's city with a handful of men. You Westerosi truly believe yourselves to be better than us all." Daario said with a chuckle "As you can see, they found they were very much not."
Hands shaking, she placed the severed head back on the table and composed herself. Olenna repeated that the king and queen would be here within the moon and noticed how Daario bristled over the first of those words. She would speak to Baelon about the man and advise him to be wary around him, for it was clear that it wasn't just gifts that Daario wished to give to the queen. Bidding the man farewell for now and offering him all the hospitality that they could offer, she, Desmera, Aurane, and her guards walked from the building and made their way back to the docks.
"That was truly Cersei Lannister and the Crow's Eye?" Aurane asked as they did so.
"It was them."
"Their graces will be most pleased, grandmother." Desmera said.
"Keep a close eye on that man, Lord Aurane, I trust him not."
"Of course my lady. I'll see the ships are unloaded quickly and the food is added to our stores."
"Get me a tally of it too, Lord Aurane. I'd like to know just how much he's brought with him. See too if you can find out what he's brought in terms of coin, but do so without making it seem that's what you're doing."
"It will be done, my lady."
She and Desmera climbed back into the carriage. Once it started to move, Olenna asked her granddaughter what she made of Daario Naharis. It pleased her greatly that Desmera had noticed his looks at her and liked them not and even more that she said she'd have naught to do with the man while here. For even while a lady may not wish to be seduced or to lay with a man, that did not mean that said man would simply take no for an answer. When Desmera said that she believed that Daario wished to lay with the queen, Olenna smirked. Her granddaughter had just shown that she was just as astute as Olenna wished her to be.
"He'll find himself at the end of Longclaw's blade or falling prey to Ghost should he dare to dream of such," Olenna said.
Later that night, she handed the note to one of Varys' little birds and hoped that even with the man himself now gone, the network he'd created still functioned. In time, they'd appoint someone else to serve as the eunuch. For now, Olenna just wished the man was here to see this task done and to offer his own counsel when required.
"Hurry back my king and queen," Olenna said as the little bird left her room and ran to see the song was sung far from the south.
Winterfell 304 AC.
Rickon Stark.
The rays of the sun warmed his cold and tired body, letting him know that the Night King had been defeated, yet he couldn't bring himself to feel any joy at the moment. Not when he could still hear the desperate screams of the person who was once his brother. He needed to get away from him, from his voice, from what he had been forced to do, and he had to face his family and his people, the people that still lived.
" You must do it, Rickon. It is the only way to protect the pack." Nan had told him.
" Would that make me a kinslayer?"
" He will live, condemned to relive the horror and death of the person he wronged the most, unable to get out of the prison of his own mind until the end of his time."
" A fate worse than death itself." Rickon sighed.
" It is what he deserves, for all the lives he has ended before their time. For my kin and for yours."
"Aye, for Arya."
Rickon had placed Arya's body on Nymeria, who had joined him to see Bran's demise, with the utmost care. All while bidding his sister's forgiveness for what he had been forced to do to her. How he'd managed not to cry, or just to walk, he had no idea. He knew that both Sansa and Jon were safe, he could feel it through their bond, but he wanted to see them, to make sure they were for real.
As he exited the Godswood, he welcomed Sansa's hug as much as he felt he didn't deserve it. He had failed Arya, they had all failed her as they kept giving Bran the benefit of the doubt. They should have exiled him the moment they felt he wasn't part of the pack.
"What happened, Rickon? Why is Bran behaving like Hodor?" his sister asked and Rickon shook his head, feeling the shame of what he did come to him once more.
He could still hear Bran crying out, pleading for him to come back.
Please Rickon! It hurts! It hurts so much!
Do not leave me this way!
The pain… It's too much!
Please! I learned my lesson!
You're the strongest of us all, I understand that now!
If you have to, kill me, but do not leave me this way!
This was not how it was supposed to be!
End me! End me now!
Kill me you coward! Kill me or open the door!
He understood perfectly every word that the former Three-Eyed Raven uttered, as he shared a mind with him, whilst for everyone else Bran was only saying a word.
"Rickon! What happened?"
He shook his head and let go of Sansa, unable to speak the truth to her. How could he? How could he explain that their brother was responsible for the death of their sister and that Rickon had to be the one to seal his fate so no one else would die because of Bran?
Because of him.
"Give him time, little wolf. We've all been through a lot." he heard the Hound say and nodded with gratitude.
Come back!
Do not leave me here!
Save me, Rickon! Please! I beg you!
Open this fucking door!
He needed to leave, to shut Bran's voice out of his head, but he was too weak to do so. His exhaustion and mental state made him unable to control his power. Rickon was overwhelmed by all the emotions he could feel coming from his surroundings. Through Nymeria, he felt the pain, sadness, and anger of her and her whole pack. They had lost a third of their kin but Arya's loss was felt by all of them as one of their own. Through Sansa, Rickon knew their uncle Edmure had not survived. While he did not know the whole story, he could feel her guilt radiating from her.
Each and every familiar face he saw made him both relieved and sad, especially seeing the flicker of sadness as they spotted his sister's lifeless body being carried away. He nodded to each man and woman he saw to express his relief at seeing them safe. The wounded were being settled on the sides, beside the walls, while the wights and those who had lost their lives were rounded up in the yard. Cheers started to mount in the ranks of the living when they saw him walk physically unharmed, all of them unaware of how destroyed he was on the inside.
"The King in the North!"
"The Rickon lives!"
"The Long Night is Over!"
"House Stark!"
His heart skipped a beat when he saw Lyanna Mormont rushing toward him, bloody and limping, and he managed to smile when she stopped herself short from hugging him.
"Thanks be to the Old Gods!" she whispered while scanning his body. "Are you hurt? Are you…"
"Are you?" he asked back.
"Nothing much. I… I'm good."
"The others?" he said and she shook her head.
"Ned… He saved my life," she answered, looking away in shame before gasping loudly as her eyes fell on Nymeria. "No… Rickon… Is she…"
He couldn't say the words. The images of her death would haunt him forever, as would the thing he had to do to her so she would not come back as a wight.
Rickon could still see the tear falling from her eye when he plunged the Dragonglass dagger into her heart. It had felt to him as if he had killed her just as much as Bran.
In a way, he had.
Lyanna's embrace hurt him as much as it appeased him. He almost broke down at this point, but he could feel the gaze of his people upon him.
You're still a king. You still have a duty to them.
"We all lost someone we care about." He painfully said while stepping away from Lyanna. "Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, children. Family, friends… We have paid a heavy cost to bring the Dawn, all of us."
"Is… Is it truly over, Your Grace?" a soldier asked him and he nodded.
"Where is King Baelon?"
"And Queen Daenerys?"
"The dragons?"
"Should we send help to them?"
"The sun shines anew. The fight is over, aye, but lots of lives have been lost behind the walls of Winterfell. As we mend our wounds, so too are the knights, soldiers, and Free Folk outside of Winterfell. So too do the king and the queen. They will come to us when the time is right. Meanwhile, there is much work still to do. We have to make sure those who fell will be treated with the respect they deserve. We have to honor them. I… I want you to care for every one of the fallen as if they were your family, for you are alive thanks to them. Then and only then will we celebrate."
"It will be done, Your Grace." Talia Forrester said and he was glad to see her breathing.
"What of Lord Brandon, Your Grace. Is he -" Lyanna's words made Rickon shiver, as the mention of his brother made his mind travel to the Godswood.
Let me out!
We're brothers!
You can't do this to me!
"Lock him in the crypts for now," he said, trying to ignore the voice in his head. "Do not be surprised if he behaves differently. There are things I need to discuss with the remnants of my family first, but in time you will all learn about his fate."
"I'm on it, Your Grace." Lyanna's determined voice made Rickon grateful for his friends and her propensity not to push to know things.
"Sansa."
"I'm here, brother. I'm here," she replied, pressing her hand to his.
"I know you must be tired and overwhelmed, but I need you to be the Lady of the Keep. I can't… I don't feel…"
Rickon!
Open the door! Please!
I know now I was in the wrong!
"You need… To be there for the people while I shut down the voices for good." Rickon managed to say.
"The voices? You're scaring me, brother."
"Just… Take care of our sister for me, will you?"
The last thing he saw as he lost consciousness was the worried face of Sansa looming over him. He could hear them talk about having him see a maester, and he was glad his sister suggested bringing him to his rooms so he could rest before being surrounded by darkness.
He couldn't feel anything. Not his body, nor his mind and he embraced the silence. For a moment he wondered if he was dead. For a fleeting moment, he wished he was until he remembered what he saw in Bran's mind. He couldn't, wouldn't do that to Jon and Sansa.
Not when they already lost Arya.
Still, he longed for this sensation for a little while longer, until he felt a brush over his mind and tensed.
It's me, little brother. I'm with him .
Rickon felt drawn to Ghost's mind as if he had no choice but to be there. The lack of control over his power worried him greatly, but he was glad to be in the direwolf's body and not somewhere else.
He could see Baelon looking at the horizon, the walls of Winterfell not too far from where he was standing. Around him, hundreds of bodies lay on the ground as soldiers gathered them as they did in Winterfell.
"Shouldn't the dragon burn them, Your Grace?" Ned Dayne, who looked injured, asked.
"We should honor them first, Ned. We may not have the names of all of those who fell to the Night King and his minions, but the North remembers and Westeros should too. We should do all we can to report to their families, to their loved ones, that they gave their lives so others could breathe."
Rickon was happy to see Baelon on his feet, but he knew what effect Arya's death would have on him. He tried to feel and seek out more of the people he knew and cared about. Tormund, Brienne, Nessa, and even the Red Woman, but were either too exhausted or too overwhelmed by the constant voice in his head to manage to find them. The dragons however were safe, though as exhausted as Ghost and he himself was. After a short while, he could see Daenerys immersing herself in her queenly duties and he was relieved at the sight of his goodsister unharmed.
Ghost's body brushed against Baelon's side and both of them welcomed the soft stroking of the white fur.
"I am glad that you're well, brothers. I am well too," he reassured them and Rickon felt the dread of what he was about to announce to his older brother.
"I can't. I can't do it," he whined, catching Baelon's full attention now. "I can't tell him. Not like that."
"Rickon? Is everything well?" Baelon's worried voice made his anguish grow.
"Go, little brother. I will be with him when the time is right. You have another thing to settle before our brother's arrival. Go." Ghost dismissed him, and Rickon complied, but not without sending Baelon a sad glance before going back to his body.
He felt more exhausted than before he'd collapsed as he struggled to get out of the bed. Rickon had tried warging once more, into one of the mice of the keep that he'd already shared a body with, only to find out he couldn't.
Was something wrong with him?
Were the Gods punishing him for going into Bran's mind?
Was he bound to lose his mind just as he forced his former brother to?
He couldn't dwell on his fears, not when Bran's voice kept ringing in his head and prevented him from thinking straight. Rickon knew it was mostly guilt that allowed him to be consumed by this feeling of inadequacy. He had closed the door on Bran's mind to prevent any more unnecessary deaths. To avenge Arya and stop a monster from destroying all that he held dear.
He had to, to protect the pack he had to act. Bran said more than once that they weren't brothers anymore. Rickon himself had felt that he hadn't been part of the pack for a long time.
Rickon just hoped his family would forgive him for not acting sooner.
Winterfell 304 AC.
Dany.
It took some time for her eyes to adapt to the sun once more. Dany now reveled in its light and what it meant. As did Drogon beneath her. Once her eyes had adjusted, she turned to look at her other two children more closely. While she'd seen them flying close by her and was sure they'd not been injured, seeing them in the light of day was something she welcomed greatly. To be able to look at them and see they were unharmed was a boon to her spirit and once she was certain of their well-being, she then sought out her husband to make sure of his.
Leaving Winterfell behind and happy enough to see so many people were still standing as she did so, Dany bid Drogon to take her to where they'd last seen Baelon. Rhaegal flew ahead of them and far more quickly than either Drogon or Viserion did. Her son's eagerness to see Baelon almost matched her own. As she watched him fly and then land, Dany closed her eyes and tried to feel through her bond with Drogon if he felt any worries or sadness come from his brother. Relieved that he did not, she looked beneath her and almost laughed at the sight of Ghost as he raced across the snow-covered ground. The white wolf's own eagerness to see Baelon was very clear by just how easily had moved on the ice and through the snow.
She felt him long before she actually saw him for true. A piece of her heart clicked into place and then she was looking down on her husband. Rhaegal had landed and Baelon was speaking to him as Dany bid Drogon to join them. No sooner had they landed than she was off the dragon's back and though she wished to praise her son and her other children for all they'd done, she believed that Drogon understood why it was Baelon she moved to first.
"You're unharmed?" she asked breathlessly when she reached her husband's side.
"I am. You are well? The dragons?"
It was her lips she answered with, not words. The kiss was a needy one and one that Baelon returned just as hungrily. The feel of his arms as they wrapped around her was a most welcome one. As were the words he spoke to her once they moved apart.
"It's over, Dany. it's done. I love you….I love you so much."
"I love you too, Baelon," she said as this time she was kissed.
How long they stayed locked in an embrace she knew or cared not. They deserved this and so much more time together. Given what they'd done, they deserved a lifetime of knowing such peace and comfort. Unfortunately, they would have to wait a little longer today to be alone and she felt it when Baelon stiffened against her. Dany then giggled at the words he spoke softly to her before moving from her arms.
"Ghost, it seems he's most eager to make sure I'm unharmed. The white wolf and the Dragonqueen have much in common it would seem."
Allowing her husband to move to Ghost, Dany walked over to the dragons. She leaned her head firstly against Drogon's own. Speaking softly to her son, she told him how very proud she was of all he'd done. That he'd shown that he was as mighty as any dragon who'd come before him. Dany told him how happy she was that he was unharmed and then chuckled when he snorted warm air at her. Drogon's pride was on full display as he basically said, "Who could harm him" .
She moved from Drogon to Viserion and offered him up the very same warm words she'd given to his brother. Dany told him that he'd not played a lesser part than Drogon had, even though she'd not been on his back. Her gentle son trilled under her touch and her words and once she was done talking to him, she then moved to Rhaegal. With him, it was more talk of Baelon than anything else she engaged in. While she praised him as much as she had any of his brothers, it was her words that they and Baelon would fly together soon enough that Rhaegal most welcomed.
By the time she was finished speaking to Rhaegal, Baelon had spoken to Ghost. So Dany moved over to where Ned Dayne was standing over the fallen figure of Jaime Lannister. She was joined by Baelon and Ghost as she did so.
"Your injury is not severe?" she asked Ned who shook his head and looked sadly at Jaime Lannister who almost looked to be sleeping.
"He…"
"He saved me, Dany." Baelon said when Ned stuttered "The Night King would have killed me were it not for Jaime Lannister. He deserves to be honored greatly for what he did."
"Then we shall see he receives it, Baelon," she said determinedly.
While she wished for them to fly together, Baelon begged off for now. Dany knew much of warriors and their ways and yet she knew little of them too. Rather than take Jaime's body atop Rhaegal, Baelon wished it carried and to be among those who did so himself. So Dany would not deny him leave to do as he wished.
"You fly, Dany. Go and make sure that those you care about are unharmed. I'll join you soon enough."
"You're sure?" she asked.
"Aye, I'll not be long," Baelon said before kissing her softly.
Reluctantly though it was, Dany made her way back to Drogon and she was unsurprised when it was only Viserion who joined her. They flew the short distance from what had been behind the Night King's Army's lines to where their own army was. Flying over their heads, Dany was greatly relieved to see just how many of them were still living. They'd suffered losses no doubt, but her Khalasar seemed almost intact and she could see many Unsullied still standing.
Once she was happy enough that she'd seen most of her men and more importantly that they'd seen her, she then turned to find a place to land. The loud cheers from the Dothraki as they flew over them were more than enough to show their own joy at their victory. Dany bid Drogon land and no sooner had she done so than she was joined by those she'd truly been seeking out.
"Khaleesi, you are unharmed, the Khal?" Qhono asked and Dany embraced her Bloodrider before telling him that she and Baelon both took no wounds this day.
"A great victory, Khaleesi. The Great Stallion will be most happy to be honored so."
"The Khalasar deserve to be honored by the Great Stallion, Qhono," she said to a broad smile from the larger man.
Seeing Jorah and Grey Worm move to her almost brought a tear to her eye.
"My queen." Grey Worm said, his voice far less stoic than usual.
"It pleases me to see you, Torgho Nudho. The Unsullied?"
"Few have fallen, my queen."
"Then we shall mourn those who have and honor them and those who won the day."
"We will, my queen."
"Khaleesi," Jorah said, relieved.
"You're hurt, Jorah, I…."
"A flesh wound, Khaleesi. One I'll wear with honor. You are well? The King?"
"Killed the Night King and is unharmed, Jorah," she said proudly.
More and more faces she recognized were seen and she was pleased to see Benjen Stark among them. Meera Reed too was unharmed and some of the Northmen who fought for Baelon in the Battle of the Bastards had come through this one too. Dany smiled when she saw Eddison Tollet. The dour Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was one of her husband's true friends and it put her in mind of his truest of all.
"Where's Tormund?" she asked to no reply.
They found him before Baelon arrived back. He and Brienne were laying together wrapped in an embrace. At first glance, you'd not even know that either had been harmed, but soon enough it would become clear that they had both lost their lives. Were it not for the cheers that rang out, Dany would have seen them moved elsewhere. Instead, she turned to see Baelon, Ned Dayne, and some other men she knew not, had now arrived.
Moving to her husband, she watched as he embraced his uncle and then Eddison Tollet before he bid everyone to quieten down.
"The Night King has fallen. Though it was not without its cost. While it was my blade that took him from this world, it was many others that gave me the chance to do so. Some of those have paid the ultimate price here today. Ser Jaime Lannister gave his life to protect mine own and was it not for him then I'd not be here to speak these words. I name him a Hero of the Dawn. As I name each and every single one of you.
This was not my victory, nor my wife's or our dragons. This was not a victory that belongs only to the North, West, Reach, Dorne, Riverlands, Stormlands, or the Vale. Not one that belongs only to the Dothraki, the Unsullied, or the Free Folk. It belongs to each of us, to Westerosi and Essosi alike. Not a single one of us played a bigger role than any other. To the brave fallen, I say thank you for all you've done so that we can see another Dawn and know a future. To those who live I name you all as the true heroes and heroines of this day. Together we brought the Dawn, let no man or woman ever forget that."
Baelon's words were stirring and Dany saw how much they meant to each of those who listened to them. She waited until he'd thanked as many people as he could and then she saw that look in his eyes.
Seeing him as he moved to her, her expression spoke the words before she did. Reaching out her hand, she led him to where Tormund and Brienne lay and it broke her heart to see and hear him weep so truly.
"He… I never deserved such a friend as him. All I brought to him was death. Ygritte, Mance, his people, all I brought to him was death…."
"Baelon…."
"How can they be so cruel, Dany? What gives them the right to take so much from us… he….they….they'd only just found each other….."
"Oh my love, my poor love," she said as she grabbed her husband and pulled him against her.
Baelon stayed on his knees, the shaking of his body as he cried against her white coat was the only sound she heard. Seeing his uncle and others move towards them, Dany shook her head and was grateful that they left them alone. It was close to an hour later that she watched as Baelon placed a kiss on Tormund's forehead and when he bid her to give him a moment alone, she did so only at his behest.
She wished to go to Winterfell then and there. Dany believed that her husband needed to see his family was safe and well, he needed good news, and yet it was not to be. They had dead to mourn and living to honor and so it was not until long after night had fallen that they even began to speak of moving from where they were. In the end, tiredness forced them to get some rest, and more than once, Dany woke to find Baelon up and about with tears streaming down his cheeks. Her words of comfort were listened to and accepted, she believed. Enough to get him to come back to bed and while they didn't lay together, eventually Baelon slept some.
They flew to Winterfell the next morning. Baelon had left orders that the bodies of their fallen were to be taken to Winterfell where they would all be burned or buried together. Ghost had run back to the keep at Baelon's request and Jorah, Grey Worm, Benjen Stark, Meera Reed, and Ned Dayne joined them on their flight. She felt it when they arrived and it was only the sight of Lyanna Mormont and Sansa Stark that forced the feeling away. Temporarily thought it was to be.
"Sansa," Baelon said happily and Dany saw it even more clearly when they embraced.
She feared it was Rickon who'd fallen, only to catch a sight of him through one of the windows in the keep. Baelon's eyes had found him long before her own did. Looking around. Dany saw Davos walk their way and the look on the older man's face was one she'd remember for many years to come. The sound of her husband calling out for his sister was one she'd remember for the rest of her life. As was the sight of Baelon as he raced through the courtyard to find Arya Stark. A search that would only lead to even more heartache.
"Oh my love, my poor love," she said as she hurried after him, hoping to be there when he found what it was she believed he would soon find.
Winterfell 304 AC.
Sansa.
Sansa had not truly had time to mourn her sister, other than when she was alone in her room that was. A few moons together were all she and Arya really had, a few moons in which they were finally the sisters they should have always been. It was nowhere near enough and each day her duties were done with, Sansa sobbed and gave in to her grief. Only for the morning to arrive and she was once again forced to put that all to one side for the good of the North.
Both Rickon and Jon needed her to be who she was pretending to be. They needed her to show a strength that, for now, neither of them possessed. An ability to do what was needed not for their family, but for their House and for the good of the people who relied on them. As for what her other brother needed, Sansa cared not. Bran was truly broken now. He barely acknowledged anyone's presence and though he ate and slept far more than he once had, Sansa bore no concerns for him whatsoever. Not even hearing him speak the one word that he did over and over was enough to move her heart but a little. Given what he'd done, Sansa believed he'd gotten off easy and each morning she awoke a part of her hoped to find that he had not.
Rickon worried far too much over what he'd done. He too hadn't truly mourned their sister and was far more concerned with their brother than anything else. All his duties as King In the North and Lord of Winterfell were irrelevant to him compared to the need to offer some comfort to Jon. Sansa blamed him not and was glad that someone was able to. For never had she seen a man so lost as her oldest brother. She'd offered her own comfort when she could and Jon had Daenerys by his side almost constantly. Ghost and Rhaegal too. Yet Sansa believed that it would take some time for him to get over the losses he'd suffered and one in particular.
Turning her thoughts from her brothers, for now, Sansa readied for her day. She walked from her room and was immediately joined by Sandor. Though she'd not asked him as of yet, he'd pretty much appointed himself as her sworn shield. It was something she was most grateful for. As she was for the others who helped her deal with the duties that had fallen to her. Lord Davos, Princess Sarella, and others had all offered her advice and help when she'd requested it. Soon enough there would be others who'd do so too, as Lord Manderly, Lady Dustin, and more of those who'd traveled south away from the battle would arrive within a day or two.
"My brothers?" she asked Sandor as they walked through the halls of Winterfell.
"The Godswood."
"Very Well. Have you eaten?"
The lack of a reply almost made her chuckle. While he may or may not have already broken his fast, Sansa knew that Sandor would eat with her now too. So it proved to be as they took their seat in the Great Hall and she broke her fast on warm porridge and some warmed milk. Sandor enjoyed far meatier fare as he ate the bacon and sausage hungrily. Looking around the Great Hall, Sansa soon found her eyes drawn to Tyrion Lannister. He too mourned someone and yet there was something in his expression at times that Sansa liked not.
Princess Sarella broke her fast with her sister and Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. The latter had covered himself in glory somewhat by saving both women from Wights during the Battle of Winterfell. Sansa offered a polite bow of her head to Lord Howland Reed who sat with his daughter Meera. Before then offering a sad smile to the men of the Riverlands who'd soon be departing and would bear her uncle's body back to Riverrun. She'd already sent a raven naming Edmure as a hero and offering her Goodaunt her condolence. Before they left she'd write Roslin a letter too. One that named his acts even more true.
Hearing the hall hush, Sansa turned to see Daenerys, Rickon, Lyanna Mormont, Lord Davos and Jon enter and take their seats. Only one of her brothers acknowledged her as they did so. Though given Jon barely acknowledged anyone, Sansa would not hold it against him. She looked at him with great sympathy as he went through the motions of breaking his fast. Jon only ate when prompted to by either Rickon or Daenerys and even then, he did so without any great gusto.
"He needs to shake himself out of his moods," Sandor said.
"He needs time," she replied firmly.
Rising to her feet, she offered both her brothers her warmest smile, and then along with Sandor, Sansa walked out from the Great Hall and out into the courtyard. While she may not have done so with a direction in mind, she was not surprised by where her feet carried her. Standing at the Crypts doors, she sighed and steadied herself before walking in through them. Soon enough she was passing by the statues of her grandfather, uncle, aunt, and father. The space beside them was empty and yet ready to accept Arya's body when it was interred there and Sansa stood in front of it silently. Only to be almost scared witless when the shape moved out of the shadows.
"Uncle Benjen, you scared me," she said reproachfully.
"Forgive me, niece. I find myself lost at times when I'm here."
"I know the feeling."
Sansa had no true understanding of her uncle's condition. By all rights he should be dead and yet he stood and moved as if he was not. Whether he breathed or his heart beat, she knew not. But he was not a Wight and Benjen himself could offer up no true explanation as to why he still lived. If that was what it was he actually did. All he'd been able to say was that he'd expected to fall when the Night King did, yet for some reason, he did not.
"How's Jon?" her uncle asked, taking her from her thoughts.
"The same. He's not ready to say goodbye yet," she said looking at the ground that Arya would soon name her final resting place.
"None of us are."
"Have you decided upon your future, uncle?"
"Aye. I'll travel back beyond the Wall. Go back and make sure there is no sign of the dead anywhere and mayhap help the Free Folk rebuild."
"Will you return?" she asked worriedly.
"Aye, if the gods will it so."
"You'll not leave until after….." she said looking back to the disturbed ground in front of her.
"No. Nor until Jon heads back south."
Though it somewhat discomforted her to do so, Sansa embraced Benjen and felt his coldness as she did so. Walking out of the Crypts, it was to Bran's room that she next went and though she didn't stay there long, she found no change. Sansa closed the door behind her to the sound of Bran's voice ringing in her ears.
"Hodor."
She made her way to Rickon's solar and spent the rest of the day going over papers and making plans for the North. The war was won but the battle with winter could still cost them much. Daenerys had promised that food would arrive from Essos to help them and there would be coin made available to them from her own coffers too. Though whether or not that was a loan or something else, Sansa still hadn't been told.
They needed to appoint new lords and replace some of those who'd been lost. Young Ned Umber had fought valiantly and lost his life and with him, the Umbers, were now no more. So someone would need to be appointed as Lord of Last Hearth. There was the matter of the Dreadfort too and while she had a claim to it, given her forced marriage, it would not be one she'd be pursuing.
After a long day, Sansa ate her nightly meal in the Great Hall and did so while sitting in Rickon's seat at the High Table. Neither of her brothers had attended nor had Daenerys while Bran would be fed in his own rooms and far from anyone's sight. Sansa did her best to act as the hostess she was meant to be. She spoke to everyone she could. Offered up smiles and words of gratitude to different people over the course of the night and even danced with more than one man though she wished not to. Before heading to her bed, she spoke briefly to Lord Davos about things they needed to make ready for the funeral services and other plans they needed to come together on. Then she bid everyone a good night and along with Sandor made her way to her room.
"Thank you, Sandor," she said as she entered the room, his mumbled response going unheard.
Tonight it was as she was getting into her bed that the tears came. Sansa sobbed herself to sleep as she held her pillow tightly to her chest. Her dreams when she did sleep were of days long passed. Memories that she'd forgotten about and adventures that at the time had annoyed her greatly. Being hit with mud as she wore her new dress and walked through the courtyard. getting spattered with food at the feast when Robert Baratheon had come to Winterfell. Mainly though it was laughter and being held in her sister's arms after what had happened with Littlefinger. That and Arya's smiling face when she pulled some prank on her.
Waking the next morning, Sansa rose and made ready for another day as the Lady of Winterfell. Those who had traveled south would be returning and she had much she needed to discuss. The funerals and her final goodbye to her sister would soon be occurring and though inside her heart was as broken as Jon's or Rickon's was, for now, she once again forewent her own mourning and concentrated on her duties once more.
Winterfell 304 AC.
Lord Davos Seaworth.
Winter might have left the North with the end of the Night King, yet for Davos, it seemed Winterfell had lost all of its warmth. Most of the people who'd survived the Long Night were grieving the loss of their loved ones. Yet while the new Lord of Storm's End mourned some of the people he had fought with, it was the Starks, most precisely Baelon Targaryen who made him curse the Gods more than once.
Davos had tried to forget the man's distraught face as he raced around with the cold body of his sister in his arms. He had tried to forget the unsettling feeling of dread as Baelon's cries rang out through the yard.
" Where is she? Where is Melisandre? Has someone seen the Red Woman?"
Davos had wanted to run, to deny the truth, and to run far from the man. For how could he face him, knowing what had happened?
He had wished with all he was not to be the one to crush the man's hope. He couldn't talk, couldn't say out loud that she was gone for the life of him and he was ashamed of what he would have to admit to.
I'm sorry, lad. She saved me and she died for it.
" Ser Davos? Have you…"
He didn't get to say anything in the end, as the necklace he held in his hand had answered for him. Davos remembered the changing expression on Baelon's face, from shock, disbelief, and denial and finally to utter despair. He didn't think his heart could break any more after losing Mathos. Then he had been proven wrong and thought he had hit the lowest point of his life when he heard about Shireen's demise. Seeing the spark of life leave Baelon Targaryen's eyes as the latter realized his little sister wouldn't be brought back, had destroyed Davos almost completely.
Even more so since he was the cause of the lad's suffering.
Davos hated this, hated to be alive while Arya was dead, and he hated, even more, himself for the fact that part of him felt happy for not inflicting the same pain upon his family.
The conflicting emotions had prevented him from falling asleep, so he took it upon himself to help out around the keep as much as he could. Queen Daenerys was juggling between her role as queen and her husband, and Davos felt the least he could do was to alleviate her duties. He had sent a message to Lady Dustin to confirm the end of the Long Night and to urge the evacuees to return to their homes. With the Maester and Lady Sansa, who too had buried herself into work around Winterfell to ease her grief, they were waiting for them to arrive that day and also prepared to see to the men of the West and the Riverlands' departure.
"Ser Devan suggested that Ser Jaime be brought to Casterly Rock, so he would be treated with the honors he deserves for saving the Seven Kingdom and its king. Queen Daenerys has answered favorably to his request," he explained to them.
"Has Tyrion said anything about leaving with them?" Sansa inquired.
"Lord Tyrion doesn't seem too keen on leaving for now. He and his cousin are not on speaking terms and Ser Devan has expressed his… reluctance at traveling in his company." Maester Wolkan said, making Davos chuckle despite his mood.
"Meaning we will have to host him a little while longer, I imagine?" Sansa sighed at the maester's nod.
"I had thought that honoring his brother would take precedence over everything else, given how the man reacted to his death, but it seems that I had been mistaken," Davos answered, thinking back to the moment he had to announce Jaime Lannister's fate to the Queen's former's Hand.
Tyrion had stood vigil next to Jaime's body, crying and saying out loud how life was unfair, unaware of the eyes and ears of those standing beside him.
" They treated you like dirt. Said you were no knight. And you give your life for them. Why? Why would you do such folly for people who despise you?"
" Because that is what a true knight does, my lord." Davos had intervened. "He has redeemed his honor, and is a true hero."
" What good does being a hero do when you do not breathe anymore?" Tyrion had said bitterly. "Was the sacrifice worth it, truly? To get his name restored?"
" He protected his king, Lord Tyrion. He saved his life."
" Indeed. After planting his sword on Aerys' back, he dies the same way protecting his grandson. The irony is not lost on me, Lord Davos."
" I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."
" No offense taken. 'Tis the way of life. What goes around comes around." Tyrion said bitterly before exiting the room, leaving Davos perplexed by their exchange.
"He has insisted on accompanying the Queen back to King's Landing, to help out with the aftermath of the destruction caused by his family." Maester Wolkan stated and Davos was glad to see Sansa react as he did.
"What do you make of his proposal, Lady Sansa?" he asked the young woman.
"I doubt he is doing it from the goodness of his heart. He may hope to get in the Queen's good graces by being close to the people."
"I think so too. I find it very strange that instead of sending help to King's Landing, he decided to come to Winterfell in the first place."
"You and I both, my Lord… Now that the war has ended, we should watch him closely. My brother will soon be alone in King's Landing and I would rather not have Tyrion Lannister standing next to him."
"Baelon will never be alone, Sansa," Davos said, the way he spoke conveying the silent promise he had made ever since he came back from the dead.
They will need you both in the years to come… Melisandre's feeble voice rang through his mind.
"I know you'll be by Baelon's side and protect him to the utmost of your ability, and it gladdens me to be able to count you as one of my brother's closest friends. He has lost so much already…"
"And so have you, Sansa."
"Any word from the Iron Islands?" she asked shakily.
"Not yet. I suppose Queen Yara too needs time to mourn."
Davos had been the one to send the message about Theon's death. What he had learned through Rickon's last council had shaken him to the core. Had he not seen people coming back to life and other miracles through the last years of his life, then the fact that a Faceless Man had used the opportunity of the war to exert his vengeance on Arya Stark would have shocked him.
Bran Stark's involvement, though, truly had. Davos remembered feeling as much rage against the crippled boy as he had for the Red Woman when he'd heard about Shireen.
" He should die for his crimes." Sansa had spat while Baelon remained apathetic.
" We are not kinslayers, sister." Rickon had intervened.
" He… He let Theon die, and then… Arya…"
" And I did what I had to do to see him punished for his crimes."
" What do we say to Theon's family? That someone took his face to kill our sister?" Sansa insisted, her anger for once getting the best of her.
" From what I'd heard about the Faceless Men, we cannot know for sure when Theon died. He could have been in King's Landing when it happened. Or even before."
" Queen Yara will probably wage war on the North if she knew that her brother died just to get to Arya." Sansa retorted. "She already hates the Starks and she will want to have justice."
" This is why we cannot tell her what happened." Queen Daenerys intervened, to everyone's surprise. "We should send her a message, telling her that her brother died a hero, as we did for the others we lost. That is all she needs to know."
" The Queen is right," Davos added. "Yara Greyjoy might not like it, but she will accept the fact that her brother sacrificed himself for the North. She will not, however, accept that he would be killed for a senseless reason. She might call for Bran's head and…"
" She can have it."
Silence fell as Baelon stood up and walked away, everyone looking around in shock as the king's last word seemed to reverberate in the room until Rickon broke it.
" Killing Bran would be a mercy for him. After all that he provoked, all that he did, he deserves to suffer until the Gods decide otherwise."