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Chapter Text

JON

Jon braced himself on the wall that overlooked the now full grounds outside of Winterfell. Snow fell on the newly erected tents and fires could be seen along the pathways. The Dothraki and Unsullied had settled in, and as far as he could tell, only Rhaegal was flying overhead. Since the loss of his brother, Viserion, even Daenerys had a difficult time bringing him to rest.  

But even as they seemed to finally be on a proper footing, his brother had all but yanked the stone from beneath his feet. Not his brother. Cousin. He hadn’t seen the queen since she’d heard the confession and, to be truthful, he didn’t know what he would say to her when they saw one another.  

Bran’s delivery of the news couldn’t have been more shocking, the flat affect of his voice as he told them, with, of all people, Samwell Tarly to back up the news. Bran had changed, no longer the little boy who wanted their father’s praise, but now an all-seeing being able to tell even the most private of moments between people. He knew of his time with Ygritte and even his conversation with Stannis to make him a full-fledged Stark but also informed Dany that he witnessed her putting her husband out of his misery with a pillow. The queen had been taken aback by this declaration, as had Jon. He had known she’d lost a husband, he hadn't known of the circumstance.  

He didn’t know what she would do now that she had heard that he, the bastard of Winterfell, was actually the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. His hands actually shook when he considered it. As he pieced in moments from his past, questions he had asked his father, or even Ser Rodrik, no one ever gave him a satisfactory answer. In fact, his father always avoided the discussion. He had always assumed it was to not upset Catelyn, now he knew that it was because of a promise to his dying sister, and to protect he himself. He hung his head and stared at the snow, actually wishing for the times when he believed that he hadn’t been wanted because he was a bastard. It was easier to be a Snow. It was easier to believe that you were unwanted.  

Bran had destroyed all such illusions.  

Daenerys was technically his aunt, which was its own set of problems. The truth was, cousins often married and even the Starks had an avuncular marriage in the not so distant past. The Targaryens were notorious for marrying siblings in order to keep the lines pure. That’s where the madness had come from, he thought, but now, faced with all he knew, he felt dizzy and even more out of place than usual.

“Your home is beautiful.” The sound of her voice actually soothed him a bit. He glanced to his right and could see her, wrapped in the black fur cloak that Sansa had made for her. There were small traces of red that lay within the fur, and he had to hand it to his sister...cousin: she did fine work.

“Thank you,” he said as he watched Rhaegal finally settle near a sleeping Drogon. “He’s lost without his brother.”

She nodded. “I felt that way for a bit after Viserys sold me to the Khal. I felt like he had betrayed me, simply for his own ambition.”

“Hadn’t he?”

She looked over at him, her violet eyes staring into his grey ones. “Yes. I suppose he had. Had he not, however, I don’t think I would be standing here, today.” He frowned and looked back out at the two dragons. “Where would you be, Jon, had your father told you all that you learned today? Would you even be alive? Had Robert Baratheon received the smallest hint that you weren’t who Ned Stark said you were...would you have lived?”

“No,” he answered. “Father always said that it was Robert’s mission to rid the world of Targaryens.”

She smiled a bit at him. “I’m very glad he failed. On both of our accounts.”

He straightened and then faced her fully. “This makes you my aunt,” he declared.

She shrugged a shoulder. “Obviously that bothers you.”

He was still unsure how he felt about it.  He certainly didn’t feel like she was any relation to him.  It did nothing to diminish the longing he felt for her. The love that had been blossoming between them since their time on the ship. If he was honest, it was before that. The cave, maybe? “It doesn’t you?” He needed to know how she felt. He needed to know if he was alone in his feelings, and if all of this was some sick plot by the Gods to dangle something so sweet in front of him only to rip it away.

She shook her head. “I know you as Jon Snow, King of the North, and defier of my will,” she responded. “The fact that you are now a long-lost nephew has little weight with me.” He sighed and looked to the ground. “You feel differently? Do you want me less?”

His head shot up and looked at her, his eyes fixated to hers. “No.”

She stepped forward and pressed her hand over his heart. “I know you, Jon. Whether your name is Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen, it changes nothing in how I feel for you. The man in front of me leads his people with a single-minded determination that I adore. A name change does not change that for me.”

His hands captured her elbows and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Leave you to be the one to make all of this seem less immediate.”

She burrowed her face into his neck and her arms moved to his back beneath his cloak.  “Maybe what you should be considering is how you and I were on opposite sides of the world, separated by politics, marriages, vows, and a great sea. Yet, here we stand on the walls of Winterfell staring out at the army to take on the coming night. Of all the people that you could have sent to me in your place,” she paused, “a raven, a messenger, something in place of you; you rowed to my shores and openly defied me in my own throne room,” she said before she pulled her head away and looked up at him.  “You even used family history against me. We were meant to find one another. We were meant to unite against whatever is coming for us. We were meant to do it together,” she whispered.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his, pulling her to him tighter. She whimpered when he released her. “You’re right,” he answered.

“I do like it when you agree with me,” she said before she leaned up and kissed him briefly.  “I think I like it better, though, when we argue.” He rubbed his nose against hers and then pulled away from her as Rhaegal let out a screech. Dany turned to the wall and watched him thrash on the ground, and then go still again. “Come with me to settle him?” she questioned.

“Should I bring guards?”

She shook her head. “Why do I need them when I have you?”

He escorted her down the stairs and out of the doors of the keep, nodding to soldiers as they passed. As they made their way over to the dragons, Rhaegal crawled on his belly closer to them, Drogon only lifting his head at their approach and then settling down once more. She moved her fingers over the scales of his snout and over his brow, Rhaegal preening under her caress. “There now,” she whispered. “I’m here.” She took a seat on the snow, and the large dragon dropped his head beside her, allowing her to coax him to sleep with her voice and soft caress.  Jon continued to look around, his eyes sharp for anyone who would harm her, but he felt she was probably safer here than anywhere else. The dragons would die before they allowed anything to happen to her. Rhaegal nudged him with his tail and huffed out smoke at the ground beside Dany. “I believe he’s insisting that you sit.”

“It’s safer if I stand.”

The dragon snarled and Dany looked up at him, a smile playing at her lips. “You don’t tell a dragon ‘no’.”

He noticed that Rhaegal was staring directly at him, and until he relented, he didn’t lower his head back to Dany. He felt something behind him and turned to see that it was Rhaegal’s tail as the large dragon seemed to be curling around them.  “He mourns,” Jon said softly, feeling Dany move closer to him.

“He lost his brother,” she whispered. “I think both of us can understand the pain that comes with that.”

He cautiously moved his hand to Rhaegal’s snout and the dragon allowed him to pet him too, though it was short. “Drogon doesn’t seem...”

“Drogon wasn’t locked away with them. He’s...smart. Smarter than some people. He knew I was going to imprison them, and he left. Rhaegal and Viserion were locked away together for a long time. They were as close as any two brothers.”

“And you’re their mother.”

“Mother of Dragons,” she said as she looked over at him. “Never of man.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I have the three most powerful sons in all of history. Don’t pity me.” The words were without malice but instead were wistful. He could tell when Rhaegal was finally asleep as the dragon seemed to almost roll onto his side and Dany smiled over at Jon who returned it.  

“I’m not trying to be insulting, but they remind me of wolves.”

She stood and brushed the snow from her backside and then offered a hand out to Jon.  “I take no insult to that, knowing how much you love wolves.” Her breath mingled with his and he was struck once more by her beauty. The sun had set and left out in the darkness, the moonlight shining on her skin, she looked ethereally beautiful, something not of this world, or too good for it.

“Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

She nodded and looped her arm through his. “I think I’d like to have a bath,” she declared as she glanced at Jon.

“I’ll make sure you have warm water,” he responded as they walked back through the gates which were closed behind them.

“Is that all?”

Jon looked up at the castle, trying to control what appeared to be uncontrollable.  His lust for her was something that seemed to rage like one of Drogon’s fires, but they were in Winterfell, and he knew from experience that voices sometimes carried over the thick stone. “What else would you like, your grace?”

She stopped outside the door to the tower and chewed on her bottom lip. “I’d like to negotiate the terms of your surrender.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “My surrender?”

“Yes.  It seems only fitting that you surrender to me.”

“Fitting how?” he questioned, aghast at the suggestion.

She smiled but said nothing.  The comment hung heavily between them and his brow was now furrowed as he stared at her. Suddenly, realization struck him and he felt his face flush. “Oh.”

“Indeed.”

He sighed. “You’ll still need hot water to be drawn,” he answered. “For my surrender.”

“I’ll leave that to your capable hands,” she said as she turned and entered the tower.  He found a servant and requested for water to be taken to the queen’s chamber, and waited until the last bit had been taken into her room before he raced up the stairs.

Chapter Text

JAIME

The snow continued to fall, making the road harder and harder to navigate.  The swirl of it around him gave him pause. He stopped for a moment, trying to get a better view of the road ahead of him, he stopped at seeing what looked to be Lannister forces standing along the road.  A panic filled him as he wondered if Cersei really would have him killed. She had every opportunity when he was in front her. All it would have taken was one word from her and the Mountain would have struck him down.  Maybe she couldn’t see him killed in front of her, despite her anger and feelings of betrayal. He was the one who should feel betrayed.

He stopped as a figure in dark gray suddenly moved onto the path and he was actually terrified for a moment that she had sent Bronn to kill him.  

“Right fucking mess you’ve got yourself in,” Bronn said to him, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Jaime nodded.  “Seems to be the pattern.”

“I was sent to kill you.  Promised a castle, again. No high-born beauty this time.”

Jaime frowned as he looked at his one-time partner in battle.  “So, am I actually allowed to get off my horse to fight for my life or are you not even going to give me the chance?”

“We both know I can take you on or off a horse.”  He looked back at the men standing behind him and frowned.  “But I’m not actually going to kill you. See, these lads were in the dragon pit and saw whatever that thing was.  They’re insistent that those things never make it south to King’s Landing and their families. They’re here to fight alongside you.”

Jaime furrowed his brow, amazed at the cutthroat in front of him.  “And you?”

“I told you.  No one gets to kill you but me, so I figure I should go with you on this stupid fucking mission you’ve assigned to yourself.  You promised me a woman.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep that promise,” he answered honestly, wondering if that would cause Bronn to change his mind about sparing his life.

“No, but your brother would,” he said with a slight smile.  “I think I’ll take my chances with the two Lannisters who don’t already see me as a traitor.” Bronn moved over to his horse and climbed on.  “Long way to Winterfell. That’s the direction the Dothraki were heading from Dragonstone, at least.”

“That’s where we need to go.  We'll need to inform them that Cersei isn't keeping her word.”

"Don't know that any of them will be surprised by that information," Bronn said, reminding Jaime once more that everyone else saw his sister for exactly who she was. Jaime was the only one who had functioned under the illusion that there might be some part of Cersei that could see reason.  Unfortunately, Jaime had learned that lesson the hard way. Bronn followed alongside him as the rest of the men circled around behind them. “What are the chances we actually make it out of this alive?”

“Not good,” Jaime remembered all too clearly the monster that had come screaming out of that box towards Cersei.  It was one of the most terrifying things he'd ever seen in his life. The dead were walking and their sole purpose was killing the living.  Why couldn't Cersei see that nothing mattered but this war? If they lost here, there would be nothing to protect her, not even the Mountain.  Their child would never be born, their legacy truly dead. It seemed such a waste to simply take the Golden Company and use them to reclaim lands.  Land didn't matter. Houses and loyalty didn't matter. In some ways, though he thought it was the most ridiculous thing he could do, he respected Jon Snow for being a man of his word, even though everything hung on him telling a simple lie. No one had ever questioned Jon Snow's honor.  He envied him for that. The irony of envying a bastard was not lost on him.

Bronn sighed and leaned back on his saddle.  “Wonderful. There’s a nice brothel in Wintertown.  There's that, at least.”

Jaime smiled and then felt it leave his face.  He’d just left behind the woman he loved and their unborn child to fight for a war she didn’t believe in.  “How far ahead of us are the Dothraki?”

“A day and a half,” Bronn answered.

Jaime nodded, wondering how long Bronn had been waiting for him and if Cersei had known the entire time that he would leave her.  He didn't know her anymore, that was for sure. He hadn't always been a man of his word, but something had changed over the last few years.  Something in him wanted to be a man of his word, a man of honor. A man like Ser Arthur Dayne, who had knighted him and who he had looked up to more than anyone before Aerys and life jaded him.  He'd always been that way with his family, but too many people saw him as the Kingslayer and nothing else. He hoped, if nothing else, that he could make others see that there was one Lannister who kept his word, despite the danger he was now faced with. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Bronn nodded.  “I agree.”

Chapter Text

SANSA

Since Bran had informed all of them about Jon’s true parentage, it was the one thought which had consumed Sansa’s mind. Though it was earth-shattering news, especially to Jon who had left the room quickly, and even to Daenerys Targaryen who appeared to be in a state of shock, Sansa thought that much of it made sense. She’d been replaying scenes over from her childhood, how they would ask about their Aunt Lyanna and their father would get a strange look in his eye and avoid the conversation. They had always assumed that the loss was something that he wasn’t able to reconcile in his mind, everything that had happened, the war, all of it, had been started with his sister being taken.

But now, knowing what they knew, Sansa realized that her father had taken the secret of Jon with him to his grave. She felt for her brother. And she did still think of him that way. He rode south to Winterfell to help take back their home. He’d nearly lost in the effort, had it not been for the Knights of the Vale, but he had ridden south, taken up arms against Ramsey, and ultimately allowed her to kill him. It always brought a sense of peace to Sansa to remember how Ramsey had screamed when his dogs had finally bitten into him. When she would have memories of the torture she suffered at his hands, she would take a breath and remember the fear on his face as that great hound stood in front of him. It was the first time she had ever seen him so unsettled.  

As she sat in the family solar, she was confronted with the fact that Jon was named King of the North because he was a Stark. She supposed that he still was a Stark. But he was also a Targaryen. She wondered if the Northern Lords would still hold him as their King. She knew that it was pointless to even wonder. Jon had bent the knee to Daenerys. He was loyal to her, obviously. She’d only seen them together for a few moments, but even she could see that there was nothing innocent in how they looked at one another. If Jon was trying to hide how he felt, he was doing a lousy job at it. The same could be said for the Queen.

Sansa looked at the stack of scrolls in front of her and pondered the implications that Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. He was the true heir to the Iron Throne, though Jon lacked any sort of ambition to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Anyone, at this point, was better than Cersei. Tyrion had informed her that Cersei had planned to march her armies north to help with the fight. She’d never known her former husband to believe in his sister, she didn’t know why he did now. She thought of it as if she were Cersei. There was no reason to help them. She fully expected it all to be a lie. It would be just like her to tell everyone to expect help only to send her forces to kill them in the dark. The Lannisters send their regards.  

She felt the tears build at hearing Bran speak those words. When he had explained the purpose of them, when Roose Bolton had killed her brother, Robb, she felt a chill move down her spine. Lannisters had caused so much death and destruction in this world, and the worst one was currently calling herself Queen.  

“You’re crying,” Arya said as she moved into the room with her sister and sat beside her. Sansa took a shaky breath and tried to control her emotions, especially in front of someone like her sister who could so easily read her.  

“Thinking about Robb and Mother.”

Arya frowned and sat across the table from Sansa. Her sister was unreadable and she kept herself so closed off from everyone. The first real smile she’d seen from the girl had been when Jon had arrived. She had been right, Jon was thrilled to see her. Hugged her, swung her around, his normally stoic countenance replaced by a wide smile she didn’t know he was capable of. She ached a bit, knowing that she would never have that sort of relationship with any of her siblings.  

Her eyes met the gray of her sister’s and Arya looked at her hands. “I was there,” she whispered. “The Hound was taking me to the Twins to sell me to Robb. I escaped from him and watched as the Freys came out and began butchering Robb’s men. Greywind.” She shook her head and it was sorrow she heard in her sister’s voice. “I was going to run in, but the Hound stopped me, took me away.” Her voice shook as she said the next part. “What they did to his body...I killed them. The ones that hurt our family. All the Freys,” she told Sansa. Though she knew she should be appalled that her sister admitted to the mass murder that took place at the Twins, she was relieved. Someone had taken revenge against them for their betrayal.

“Did they suffer?” Sansa asked, her voice low.

“All of them,” she responded. It was one of the few times she hadn’t been afraid of Arya.  

Sansa leaned back in her chair and gave a simple nod. “Good.”

Arya looked at the dark window and heaved a sigh. “About what Bran told us. About Jon. How do you feel about that?”

Sansa took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, “Are we playing the game of faces or are you asking me as my sister?”

“I hardly feel like there’s a difference anymore. But fine, I’m asking as your sister.”

“Jon’s the true heir to the Iron Throne,” she said after a moment of silence. “The Seven Kingdoms are his to claim, not Daenerys Targaryen. His. He could be the ruler that this world needs.”

“Do you think Daenerys would allow him to claim it?”

At that, she wasn’t sure. She knew there was something between him and the Dragon Queen, but she didn’t know how deep it ran. Sansa stood, walked to the window and looked out at the dark sky, snow falling to the ground below. “She certainly has the army to oppose him if she so desired.”

“I think she desires Jon. That changes things,” Arya answered.

Sansa turned to Arya, a smirk on her face. “You caught that, too?”

Arya chuckled. “They were eye fucking each other in front of everyone. Yes, I caught it.”

She shook her head at Arya’s statement. “Do you have to say things like that?”

She nodded. “Yes. It irritates you when I don’t act or speak like a lady.”

“And you must irritate your sister?”

“One of the few joys I still get out of life,” Arya answered with a smile. But the conversation died away and Sansa watched as Arya stared into the fire. Her sister’s expression was of one deep in thought. She still didn’t know the girl in front of her. She wasn’t a girl any longer, Sansa chided herself. She was a woman grown and an accomplished killer. To think, weeks ago she even contemplated that Arya wanted anything to do with being the Lady of Winterfell. All she really wanted was to fight.

“They’re lucky,” Sansa said finally, referring to Jon and Daenerys. “As you said, women so rarely get to choose what we do in life. I feel like Daenerys can do whatever she pleases.”

“And that seems to be Jon,” she said with a smirk. “He’s still our brother,” Arya said calmly, but Sansa knew she was telling her how she should feel about Bran’s revelation. “His name doesn’t change who he is to us.”

“No, it doesn’t. He’s still Jon, still our brother. Could you imagine calling him Aegon?” Sansa said with a roll of her eyes and moved back to her chair. “I think he’d rather eat his boots.”

Arya chuckled at that. “Probably. I know why Father did what he did.” Arya looked up at Sansa and she was startled by Arya’s declaration.  “Imagine finding out that the entire war that you fought in, the war that caused you to lose your brother and your father, was built on a lie.  Lyanna left with Rhaegar. She loved him. She couldn’t have told anyone about it. They would never have allowed her to leave.”

“She was reckless,” Sansa answered.

“Love makes people reckless,” Arya answered and heaved a sigh. “Love makes people do and say stupid things because it clouds your mind.”

Sansa eyed Arya as she stared into the fire. “Had much experience with love?”

Arya looked at her from the corner of her eye. “Not since I was a girl.” She shook her head. “I hardly remember what that time was like. Constantly on the run, not knowing who I was going to be or who was going to try to sell me back to my family first. Would I even make it to them?”

“Who was he?” Sansa asked, curious about this person that her normally wary sister loved.  

Arya turned back to the fire. “A stupid bull,” she shook her head. “I wanted him to come with me to Robb. I wanted him to be my family,” she said sadly. “He turned me down, chose to stay with the Brotherhood, and then they sold him to a red witch.” Sansa was surprised by the shift in Arya’s tone from wistful to cold in the span of a single word. “Anyway, he’s probably dead now.”

“What was his name?”

Arya glanced at her sister and sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to you,” Sansa said softly. A part of her was so thankful to have this glimpse into Arya. She kept herself so closed off, so remote to everyone around her. To learn that Arya had loved someone gave her a bit of hope. She had been convinced that Arya felt next to nothing anymore. But now she could see that her sister still held onto the memory of and love for a boy that she believed to be dead.  

The brown haired girl pulled her knees to her chest as she stared at the fire. “You’re right. It does to me. I thought I was beyond that.”

“You still feel things, Arya. That’s not bad.”

“It is if you’re a killer,” she said as she looked at Sansa and she nearly shivered. “Feelings are a weakness.”  Sansa nodded and stared into the flames herself, realizing that she was right. Feelings, emotions could all be used against you. If Lord Baelish had taught her anything that was it.  Arya stood then and gripped her shoulder as she passed. “Good night, Sansa.”

“Good night, Arya.”

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Her attendant’s left her after the ornate braids had been undone and she was left with nothing but her robe. The bath had been filled and the steam from the hot water rose into the air. She ran her fingers through her hair once, waiting for Jon to arrive. She smiled to herself as she thought of him, amazed at how earnest he was in almost everything he did. Her heart fluttered a bit as she thought of the way his hands felt on her skin, causing her to shiver even as she stood in front of the vanity.

The door behind her opened and she turned to see that it was Jon. He latched the door behind him as she stood and made her way to him. Her hands grasped the belt at his hips and brought his body to hers. He leaned down and kissed her, his hands cupping her face, the leather of his gloves a stark contrast to the softness of his lips. His clothes still held the chill of the winter outside, and she longed to warm him. She broke the kiss and helped him undo the sword belt at his waist and leaned it against the wall. She pulled his gloves from each hand and then helped with the straps of his heavy cloak. She could feel his eyes scanning her face as she concentrated on the important task of removing his clothes. He tried to capture her in a kiss once more, but she avoided him.  

This was what she loved. The intimacy of them and their connection. His doublet soon joined his cloak in the growing pile by the door. His tunic was next, leaving his chest bare to her gaze. As always, her eyes went to the angry red marks on his skin. How someone could do such a thing to this man made her angry. His sole drive in this world was to protect people, and they had killed him for it. He deserved better. She placed a kiss above the angry red mark over his heart and he heaved a heavy sigh. She wished she could kiss it away, to make the pain less for him. She was powerless to keep the memory from hurting, but she would always try.  

This time when he attempted to kiss her, she let him, feeling the insistent heat of his tongue against hers.  His hands slid over her waist, her hips and began sliding up to her breasts. She broke away from him though, moving her lips over his shoulder and moved behind him. The muscles in his back moved with every breath and she was stirred by him.  She moved her hands over his sides down to his hips. She trailed her lips over his skin while her hands slid over the front of his leathers and smiled. The growl she received from him let her know that he was very close to pressing her to the door. However, she stayed behind him and untied his breeches then slipped her hand inside. He leaned his head back and hissed as she stroked over the hard length of him. “Daenerys,” he groaned as she pressed completely against him. She released him and moved her hands to the V of his abdomen, trailing her fingers through the crease. She smiled again as she felt him shiver beneath her hands and lips.  

Daenerys moved to stand in front of him once more and he was unleashed, pulling her against him roughly. His kiss scorched as it moved down her throat and his hands undid the tie of her robe. He fumbled to rid himself of his boots and she giggled as he seemed torn between holding her against him or removing them. He grunted as she took several steps back from him and crooked her finger at him before removing her robe completely and stepping into the steaming water. The needy look in his eyes and the frantic motion of him removing the rest of his clothes had her aching for him. He stepped into the water, unaffected by the heat. She wondered if he even noticed. Seems he’s more of a dragon than he believed.

The thought quickly left her as he pulled her into his lap and sheathed himself inside her. She gasped, gripping his shoulders as he guided her movements over him. She reached behind him and removed the tie holding his hair. She took handfuls of it, holding him against her as he captured her breast in his mouth, his eyes finding hers while his teeth nipped at the stiff peak. She shivered in his arms, rolling her hips against his. This was something she would never give up, never stop fighting to have. He was worth it. When his calloused thumb grazed over her clit, she was undone, throwing her head back. His name echoed off the walls, unable to control the sound. Her body clenched around him and he nearly growled her name against her breast as she milked him of his release.

The steam from the bath caused the black curls to look even wilder, helped by her hands raking through them. She loved when he lost control of himself. She loved that she could make him lose that control. He continued to pant against her skin as her hands moved over his neck and shoulders down his back. Jon was strong beneath her and the feel of him gave her a peace she didn’t know she was missing. His hands cupped her face and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, a languid smile on his face. She couldn’t help but kiss him at that point and he nibbled along her bottom lip and then her jaw.  

She glanced at the floor and realized that much of the water in the tub had sloshed out and his eyes followed hers, a smile on his face. “Best bath I’ve ever had,” she said into the silence of the room and he chuckled against her skin.

“I think there’s more water on the floor than in here.” Her thumbs traced over his jaw and she leaned down to kiss him once more.  

“Are you complaining?”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. “Let’s stay here the rest of the night.”

She smiled as she began placing kisses along his throat. “Do you think anyone is missing you?”

He smiled and opened his eyes to look at her. “I think I’m done entertaining people for the day.”

Her lips found him and he hugged her closer. When she broke the kiss, she moved along his jaw to his neck. “You’re an impressive man, Jon.”

“Am I?”

“Mmmm,” she hummed. “Not just in bed,” she chuckled. “Do you remember when you told me that you didn’t like doing what you were good at?”

He nodded. “Vaguely. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“It was,” she moved back, feeling him withdraw from her as she rested on his thighs. “I didn’t know what you meant. After watching you fight, I realized that was to what you referred. But, I’ve found another thing you’re good at that you don’t like. You’re good at ruling,” she said softly. “Your men respect you. They look to you to lead them, trust in you to protect them. But you hate it. You hate the politics that go along with it. You hate the fighting.”

He frowned. “Aye. I don’t like distrusting people. My fath...Ned Stark was an honorable man. I suppose it makes me stupid to believe that others should be as well.”

She traced over the scar above his brow and then beneath his eye. She took a deep breath and said what was on her mind. “It’s not stupid. Naive, maybe. Not stupid.” She hesitated to bring up the subject, but it seemed to be hanging between them and she decided that men did tend to listen better when they were prone beneath a naked woman. “Your father, Ned Stark, was an honorable man. Nothing he did should bring that into question.”

“Except that he’s not my father.”

She smiled weakly. “He is in the ways that matter,” she said softly. “Consider what could have happened, Jon. He could have left you, allowed Robert to have you killed.” She shook her head. “Instead, he brought you into his home and raised you alongside his children. Yes, Catelyn Stark treated you poorly.” At his questioning look as to how she knew that she smiled. “Tyrion,” she answered and he rolled his eyes. “Did you doubt that he loved you?”

He hesitated for a moment and then sighed. “No.  I never doubted that, actually.”

She entwined their fingers and tilted her head as she watched him. “It’s difficult to get older and watch families have what you long for, the purpose and belonging that goes with being a family. Viserys and I ran for so long that we never had peace. Every time I started to feel like I was in a place I could call home, we found out that they knew where we were and we had to move again. It was never safe, we never had the family that you have here with your siblings. And they are your siblings. You love them like that and they love you.”

He closed his eyes and seemed to be deep in thought when he spoke his statement caught her off guard. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“What if this does change how they see me? What if they no longer think of me as their brother but an outsider? What if they don’t love me enough to look past this?”

She caught his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking and she wished she could soothe him. Daenerys knew she couldn’t quell the ache, though. Only those he loved as brother and sisters could calm him and make him realize that this revelation only meant that his sire was different, not his father. “I’ve only just met your family, but I can’t imagine, after your reunion this morning, that it changes how they feel about you. I’ve not known you even a fraction as long as they have and it doesn’t change how I feel. It’s you they love, not your name.” She moved off his lap and stood in front of him. “You should talk to them,” she said as she climbed from the bath and felt his eyes on her as she reached for her robe and turned to find him watching her. He gave her the half-smile she had grown so accustomed to and she held out her hand to him. “We should retire to my chambers.”

He gave a faint nod and took her hand. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had since you suggested a bath.”

*~*

Daenerys awoke the next morning to find her bed already empty and the sheets beside her cold. He’d been gone for some time as the fire in the hearth had died as well. A knock on her door sounded and she climbed from the bed and donned her robe to open the door to Missandei. “Your grace,” she said with a soft smile. “Lord Snow has requested that you join him in the hall this morning to break your fast.”

She nodded as she moved to the vanity and Missandei allowed the attendant in to braid her hair. Her friend moved about the room and laid out the white coat that she hadn’t worn since she’d gone beyond the wall with her dragons. It pained her a bit to see it, remembering all that had happened. The loss of Viserion still fell so heavy on her heart that she tried to avoid thinking of it. It was like losing Rhaego again, the ache inside her feeling as if it could never be soothed. Her dragons were what made her extraordinary. At least she felt that way.

“How are you feeling this morning, Your Grace?”

She thought back on the night before and met her friend’s eye, a slight blush tingeing her cheeks. “Well rested, Missandei.  And you?”

Missandei’s cheeks colored pink as well and Daenerys realized she probably had a similar evening. “Same.”

She prized the woman’s friendship very much. She was her true confidant. She knew she could tell Tyrion anything, but he would often be quick to offer his opinion, whether it was wanted or not. Missandei, on the other hand, kept her confidence and seemed to feel the same about her. The attendant fitted the dragon pendant into her hair and then stepped back, allowing Daenerys to examine the intricate pattern of braids and gave her a nod as she stood. She bid the other woman leave and left Daenerys alone with Missandei.  “How is Greyworm?”

She nodded. “He is well, though, he doesn’t much care for the cold.”

Daenerys heaved a sigh. “It is much harsher than I had imagined.”

“You should allow them to come in and make sure the fire is stoked during the night. It would be terrible for you to fall ill.”

Daenerys smiled. “I was plenty warm,” she said as Missandei helped her lace the dress she was to wear beneath the white coat. She and Missandei shared a smile. “What do you think of him?”

“Jon Snow? He’s very...broody.”

She laughed. “He is. Not without reason.”

“He appears to be an honorable man and he seems to make you happy.”

Daenerys pulled on her boots and then looked at her friend and couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she thought of Jon. Even though he was possibly the most stubborn person she had met in a very long time, she actually admired that about him. “He does.” But that thought caused a moment of panic and she looked up at Missandei. “It’s dangerous how I feel for him.”

“Dangerous?” she questioned. “How so?”

She frowned. “Having these feelings for him, for anyone really, is a danger to me. Someone could try to use him against me for their own nefarious purposes.”

“Would it work?”

Daenerys sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. The last man I loved died, tragically. I already lost a dragon to save Jon. What else would I risk?”

Missandei was silent for a moment and then looked to the queen. “This is a cold and cruel world, Your Grace. You know that as well as anyone." She looked to her hands and Daenerys could see she was speaking from her heart and it warmed her to know that Missandei cared for her as she did. “But there are moments where we get true happiness. I think those are the moments where we’re living. Everything else is just one bad thing leading to some sort of good.” She looked at Daenerys with a smile. “At least, that’s what I hope.”

Daenerys stood and took her friend’s hands and gave her a smile. “So do I.”

“Then we should grasp that which brings us happiness. Hold on to it as long as we can. Otherwise, what are we fighting for?”

Daenerys nodded. “Indeed. Let’s not keep them waiting,” she said as Missandei turned to the door and opened it.  

*~*

Tyrion was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps and bowed his head to her. “Your Grace,” he said. His tone was odd, even for Tyrion.  

“What’s happened?” she had an uneasy feeling at her Hand’s demeanor and tone, and the last few times she’d felt uneasy around him it had ended with them in heated disagreements.

Tyrion shook his head. “It was a long night. I spent much of it trying to figure out our strategy after the revelation of Jon Snow’s true parentage.”

Daenerys frowned at Missandei and then back at her hand. “Strategy?”

Tyrion’s shoulders sagged and he seemed reluctant to speak. “Your grace, I realize there may be feelings on your side for Jon Snow. I told you there were on his side but you scoffed at the idea,” he reminded her. She did scoff. It seemed ridiculous to her that it was even possible for someone to fall for someone so quickly. And yet, she had, he had. “However, this revelation changes things.” His voice lowered. “This no longer makes you the heir to the Throne. He’s the son of the Crown Prince. There’s documentation to support his claim.”

The room spun and she put a hand on the stone wall, never having considered the truth to that statement. Her entire life, the entire purpose and driving force for her since Viserys died was to claim the Throne to which only she had a right. But now, Jon Snow was the rightful heir. Not Jon Snow. Aegon Targaryen. He would hate it if he knew she had thought of him that way. But still, she felt like the world was spinning and wanted it to stop. Tyrion didn’t look at her but Missandei steadied her at her elbow.

“I hadn’t...considered...” she admitted.

“I understand, Your Grace. That’s why I’m your Hand. I have considered it and what it means.”

Daenerys frowned. Was all of it for nothing? If she had no right to the Throne, what was the purpose of it all? “What have you considered?”

“There are several approaches. Some I know you will vehemently hate. Others, I think you would be much more open to.”

“The ones I’ll hate?”

“Kill him and his family,” he said with a weak smile, but the look on his face told her that he had no intention of allowing her to do anything of the sort. “The second option also involves death, but seeing as I don’t feel like being roasted alive today by a dragon, I’ll keep that one to myself. However, the most logical option, the one I encourage you to use your sway with him to cultivate, would be marriage.”

Missandei looked at Daenerys and she was glad the woman was there. It was frustrating to know that Jon Snow had already eased his way into her heart. When she’d heard the news of his parentage, she hadn’t considered the political implications, only that the man she loved was in pain and she wanted to soothe him. But now, faced with the reality of it all, she felt completely out of sorts.  

“Then I’m only the Queen to his King. A secondary ruler, never with real power to create change.”

Tyrion shook his head. “You want to build a new world. I think he would encourage the one you want. Speak to one another, lay out what it is you want to him. Tell him of your plans to break the wheel. Allow him to see the true and just ruler that you are and that should you marry it would be a marriage of equals set on the same path, the same world.”

Daenerys took in what he said and nodded. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I’ll let you know my decision by the end of the day.”

Tyrion seemed appeased with this answer and he followed her into the hall where Jon was seated at the head table, his sister, Arya to his left. She didn’t know what it was about the girl, but when she looked at her, she felt as if she was weighing her very soul. It made her uneasy. Her eyes met Jon’s and he gave her a slight smile as she sat beside him.  “Your Grace.”

“Your Grace,” she whispered back. “So formal,” she said as she lifted her goblet to her lips but smiled despite herself. His dark eyes watched her and she contemplated what Tyrion had suggested. She couldn’t imagine Jon would have many issues with helping to build a new world, one in which common people had a voice, a way to implicate to their betters the sort of trials and tribulations they suffered. They needed people to advocate for them and a ruler, or rulers, in this case, to listen and help. That’s what she truly wanted. She hated suffering and she wanted it to end. It would never be gone completely, not while men with ambition for power still roamed the world. Their vile hatred for other people and belief that they, themselves were worthy of more, would always work for their own means and motivations. But she wanted to believe that they could break the wheel to keep it from trampling on anyone else.

“Did you sleep well, Your Grace?” Arya asked and Daenerys wasn’t sure if she liked that this girl had already sussed out that she’d slept with Jon. She could feel several sets of eyes on her, none of which were Jon’s who kept his eyes on his plate.

“Yes. The North’s hospitality is unrivaled,” she said before she took a sip from her goblet.

She thought that Tyrion’s efforts to not smirk would break his face, however, he hid it behind a bite of food.

The awkward moment was broken by a guard entering the room and standing before them. “Your Grace,” he said to Jon. News had spread that Jon had bent the knee to Daenerys, but the North didn’t treat him as if he had submitted. “A rider has arrived. A Gendry Waters.”

The clang of metal hit the table beside Jon and everyone turned to look at Arya. Jon turned back to the guard and nodded for him to allow him in. “How do you know him?” Arya questioned and Daenerys looked at the young girl with interest.  The better question was, how did she know him?

“He went with us beyond the wall to get wight. He’s the one that ran back to get a raven to Daenerys. Gendry didn’t travel with us to King’s Landing, but rode to the other castles ahead of Winterfell from the wall to warn them that the dead forces weren’t that far away and that preparations should be made to shore up defenses.” He paused. “I would have thought he’d be here before us.”

Chapter Text

ARYA

Her heart was racing.  It only ever did that when she was fighting.  But now, about to come face to face with her past she couldn’t help the shaking in her hands and the way her heart nearly leaped from her chest.  Not since she last saw him had she actually felt this way.  Not since he’d called her M'lady.  She stood abruptly and turned to leave the hall, aware that everyone was watching her go even as she heard the door on the far side of the room open once more.  She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wood, waiting to hear if it was really him.

“Your grace,” she heard echo into the hall and the scraping of a chair.  

“I’m glad to see you made it to Winterfell alive,” Jon, ever the capable leader, greeted him.  “Won’t you join us?”

“I don’t wanna intrude,” he said finally, a tinge of something different to his voice this time.  But she listened as Jon insisted that he join them and wondered exactly what his relationship with Jon was.  Were they friends?  Was Jon aware they knew one another?  Did he know any of it?

“What are you doing?”

She looked up to see Sansa and Brienne both looking at her oddly and she pushed away from the door.  “Nothing.  I’m going to the Godswood.”

“Not for prayer,” Sansa said as she walked past them. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.  I just want to be alone, to practice with my sword.  Seems that’s the only place one gets peace around here anymore.”

She didn’t meet her sister’s eyes but left the castle as quickly as she could and into the canopy of trees.  Of course, not even here was alone as Bran sat at the base of the tree and he looked over at her as she approached.  “I haven’t seen you run away from something in a very long time,” he remarked.

“I wasn’t running away.”

Bran simply looked over at her, his expression the same.  No emotion, hardly any recognition of the boy he’d once been.  “Jon doesn’t know you knew each other,” he says finally.  “Gendry didn’t tell him.”

“Shut up, Bran,” she said as she sat on the bench facing him.  “There are some things you can leave out and not say.”  This seemed to be a new concept for Bran as he tilted his head and examined her.  

They both grew silent and she watched as his eyes grew white.  It unnerved her to see him do this, as he had only done it a handful of times in front of her. His gasp filled the air and his eyes turned to her and it frightened her that there was raging emotion there.  His expression was grave as he spoke.  “You need to take me inside.  I need to speak with Jon.  Now,” he said, and the tone of his voice left little room for her to argue.  She marched behind him and began pushing him to the hall.  As they entered, she glanced at the table and could feel his eyes on her.  

“They’re coming,” Bran said aloud to the room.  “Eastwatch has fallen, the wall has fallen.  The dead march towards us.”

The room was silent and Arya looked at Jon and could see the panic in his eyes.  He stood suddenly and leaned over the table.  “How far?”

“They’re five days.  There’s more.  The Night King...he’s on a dragon.”

At this, Daenerys stood, her pale skin growing even more so with the news.  “My dragon?” she questioned and Arya knew the answer before Bran even spoke.

Bran nodded.  “He's fast.  Faster than yours.  I think it's the magic.  He breathes blue flame.”

Daenerys leaned over the table, the usually straight faced queen looked on the verge of a meltdown and Arya actually felt bad for her.  She's heard that Daenerys considered the dragons her children.  But this was worse than losing a child.  This was learning your child was being used as an instrument of evil.

Arya could feel eyes on her and realized that Gendry was staring at her and it actually made her skin itch.  She was elated he was alive, obviously, but he made her feel things that she wasn't prepared to feel.  And after what Bran had just told them, it seemed a cruel twist of fate to bring him back into her life to destroy everything and not give her the chance to be different.  Gendry made her feel different.

But all her training had told her that emotions were dangerous.  Feeling things for people could lead to bad decisions.  It made a person unfocused.  That's what was happening to her now.  Only when Daenerys stormed from the hall, Jon and Tyrion on her heels did she realize others were leaving. One of the men came to take Bran back to the Godswood while everyone else but Gendry and Arya left the room.  

“I'm...glad you're alive.  I thought you might have been killed by the red witch.”

He continued to stare at her and though she wanted to look away, she couldn’t break her eyes from his.  “It wasn't because she didn’t try.”

“How did you escape?”

“Ser Davos released me.”

She stepped forward and tilted her head as she examined him.  His hair was shorter, he looked thinner, but he was still the stubborn bull she remembered so fondly.  “I suppose that's a long story.”

“Probably as long as the one regarding how you got your sword back.”

Needle.  He would remember. She looked down at the hilt of her sword and then back at him. She noted the hammer that leaned against the table and nodded at it. “Took your love of hammers to new heights.”

Gendry reached back and lifted it.  She could tell it was heavy but he lifted it with ease and practice.  She stepped forward and held her hand out and he handed it over willingly.  It was heavier than she expected, but she could feel that it was weighted well and knew that if someone swung it at an enemy and they were hit they would not get up easily.  She noted the stag on the pommel near the head and furrowed her brow.  “A stag?  Not a bull?”

“In honor of my father,” he said softly.

She raised an eyebrow.  “Have a reunion with the man?”

He frowned and shook his head.  “No. He's dead. But I know who he is and who I am.”

“Who are you?”

“The son of Robert Baratheon.  That's why the red witch wanted me. King’s blood.” He sighed and looked at the floor then back at her. “That's why when Davos found me in King's Landing again and took me to meet Jon, I went without question.  It's why I wanted to fight with him.”

Arya felt a war within herself as she looked down at the hammer. She was so happy to see him, but for some reason, she also wanted to use his hammer to sweep his legs and pounce on top of him with her knife to his throat. Especially when faced with how quickly he ran to join Jon. “Why Jon and not Robb?”

Chapter Text

GENDRY

Because Jon knows what it's like to be a bastard.   “I didn't go with you to your brother Robb because I didn't want to serve any king.  I thought the Brotherhood was the solution to that.” She frowned and her expressive eyes made him feel raw and exposed.  He'd hope to see her again but never trusted in the hope that swelled in his chest when he met Jon.  “That didn't work out well.”

“Not for anyone.” She heaved a sigh. “I'm glad you're alive.”

“You too. I never doubted that you were,” he said softly but regretted it as he watched her expression change. “You were always going to survive.”

“I suppose we're similar in that way.”

She handed him his hammer and he held it at his side.  “Are you any good?”

He smiled. “Decent.”

“Care to show me?”

He shook his head.  “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don't want to hurt you.”

She smirked.  “It's a nice sentiment. That you think you could.”

“A hammer is different than a sword. More force than finesse.”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

“And what if I actually hit you? Your brother has me killed?”

Arya smiled. “Again, it's nice that you think you'll get a hit.”

He shook his head.  “I don't want to fight you.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Years, Arya. I haven't seen you in years. The last thing I want to do is fight with you, of all people.”

She was silent for a moment. “Maybe I want to fight you. Maybe I want to hurt you for choosing the Brotherhood over me.”

“I didn't choose them over you.”

“I wanted you to go with us. I wanted you to help Robb and you...”

He stepped forward, frustrated that she didn't understand.  “I said ‘no’ because I didn't want to intrude on your family. I didn't want to watch you eventually become a true Stark lady and marry some high-born Lord who would never appreciate you.” He turned his eyes from her and hoped she understood without him having to say it. “You offered to be my family but we both know that wasn't realistic.  I was a bastard and you were a high-born out of reach.”

She shook her head.  “You're so stupid,” she said frustrated.  “I'm never going to be a lady like Sansa.  I don't want that. I've never wanted that.”

“It was different then.  You were going to be reunited with your family and I would have been the bastard smith that was reaching for something he could never have. And there was the small fact that you were still quite young...”

“What's your excuse now?”

“I don't have one.”

She hesitated for a moment and then did something truly unexpected, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.  “You don't get to choose my path for me,” she whispered.  He dropped the hammer to the ground beside him and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You don't get to leave me again.”

He closed his eyes and breathed her in.  “As M'lady commands.”

She turned her head towards his ear.  “Call me that again and I'll gled you and you can join the Unsullied.”

He squeezed her a bit tighter and smiled against her shoulder. “A tragic end that would be.”

She pulled away from him but didn't release him. “You didn't tell Jon you knew me.”

He furrowed his brow and voiced the question now roaming through him. “How did you know that?”

“Bran.  He told me.  He can see...everything. Why didn't you tell him?”

“Because I couldn't tell him what happened to you,” he explained. “I knew you were alive, I just didn't know where to find you.  The Boltons had Winterfell...”

“I was in Braavos.”

He shook his head. “A long story?”

“Very.”

“You'll tell me?”

“We'll have time. You're not leaving me again.”

He shook his head. “No, I'm not.”

She shrugged and released him. “Then I'm in no hurry to tell you.”

He smirked. “Until then?”

“You're going to show me what you can do with your hammer.”

His eyes met hers again and the look she gave him was challenging.  She wasn't the little girl he'd known and had confusing feelings about. She was a woman and one who seemed to know what she wanted without hesitation. “I'm not fighting you.”

She nodded.  “You made that clear. But you can still show me the balance and form.”

He lifted the hammer and followed her out of the hall and into the courtyard.  They came upon Brienne and Poddrick sparring and Pod once again ended up lying face down on the ground as Brienne had tripped him and tagged his back with her sword.  Gendry stared at the largest woman he'd ever seen and watched as she repeatedly bested the squire.

Arya sighed. “Widen your stance,” she instructed.

It was only a few moments that Arya and Gendry were watching when he felt the presence of two others standing behind them. Arya turned and faced them, her expression grave. “Jaime Lannister.”

Pod managed to get a hit on Brienne as she turned to look at Jaime, and he took three huge steps back and dropped his sword, realizing that the woman would put him into the snow again.  Instead, she moved over to Jaime.  “Ser Jaime.”

“I need to speak to the Queen,” Jaime insisted and Gendry watched as something passed between the large woman and the famed knight.  

The man beside Jaime moved over to the squire and smiled. “Are you ever not getting your ass kicked?”

“Squires life.”

“The Queen isn't here,” Brienne announced, and all eyes were on her once more.

Arya frowned. “What do you mean?”

Brienne frowned. “After what Bran told them about the dragon, she climbed on the great black one and flew over the wood.”

“And Lord Snow?” Jaime asked.

At this Brienne straightened and glanced at Arya. “He took the green one and went after her.”

*~*

Chapter Text

JON

Panic threatened to sweep through his entire body at hearing the Night King had a dragon. The army of the dead was a scary enough prospect, but with a dragon in his guard, it made the whole thing seem even more impossible. He looked to Daenerys and she was on the verge of both fury and sorrow. And when she stormed from the room he and Tyrion went after her.  He saw her run through the courtyard and gates and he kept up with her though when she stepped up to Drogon and climbed onto his back he felt lost. “DAENERYS!” he shouted. He and Tyrion watched her soar into the air and go west over the wood.

“You have to talk to her and get her to calm down,” Tyrion demanded.

“She's on her dragon! What am I supposed to do?” He felt despair at the entire thing. The same feeling that Tyrion's face showed.

“There's another dragon. And you're a Targaryen. Go fucking get her!”

Jon looked over at Rhaegal who was staring at Jon as if he understood their conversation.

“I've never been on a dragon.”

Tyrion seemed close to trying to throttle Jon. “If you love her, bring her back where she’s safe!”

Jon looked at the green dragon that now had his enormous snout in his face. He extended his hand and hoped that the reaction was friendly, as it had been the night before when he'd been with Daenerys. The dragon allowed him to pet him and made the decision that he would try. At this point, he wasn't sure what else he had to lose. He moved to his side and stepped foot on his wing then hoisted himself in place. He held on as Rhaegal ran over the ground and the flew into the air over the trees.  

It was a thrilling experience at the same time it was terrifying. The wind blew into his face but he could make out the faint outline of Drogon circling a field and then land. He didn't know how to command Rhaegal to do the same but he soon landed near Drogon, and Jon thought that maybe the dragons had a sense about their mother and when she needed them. He found her on the ground, leaning against the black dragon with her knees pulled to her chest and her head buried. He heard her sniffle and realized she was crying.

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he got closer and moved to kneel in front of her. She lifted her head and his heart broke for her as tears slid over her face openly. “Daenerys,” he said softly.  

“Viscerion. My child. He's using my child,” her voice broke.

He swiped at her tears and pulled her into his arms to let her cry. He held her against him and never shushed her. She clung to him, allowing her pain, anger, and frustration to flow out freely. He knew why she left. She was a queen. To cry or lose her composure in front of others would be viewed as a weakness. Jon appreciated that she allowed him to see it and allowed him to comfort her. “We’ll defeat him,” he said after a while. He moved to sit beside her as they leaned against Drogon, shielded from the wind by his large body.“You and I. Together.”

“How?” the sound was weak and lacked motivation.

He took a shaky breath himself and laced his fingers with hers. “I don't know. But we’ll think of something.”

They were both silent and he wished the world could stay like this: softly falling snow, his family safe at Winterfell, and the woman he had fallen in love with at his side. Life was too fucked up to stay this nice for too long, which made him want to fight for it more.

“Three heads of the dragon,” she said finally. “It's complete.”

“What do you mean?”

“Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viscerion. Drogon is mine. The Night King...he's on the other,” she said, her voice breaking at the words, “and you ride Rhaegal.”

Jon looked over at the green dragon, wondering what at the implication of her words. Would he be able to ride Rhaegal all the time? He still felt like a Stark. Nothing revealed had made him feel like a Targaryen as the only stories he knew of his...sire were horrible tales that all seemed to not be true. “I think that might have been a one-time thing.”

“Dragons don't make exceptions.” She explained further, “They are finite. He let you ride him alone, without me. They sense dragon's blood. You're the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.” She paused and then looked up at him, a bit of awe in her eyes. “It makes sense that Rhaegal would allow you...”

“None of this makes sense,” he sighed out in frustration.

“It's said that every dragon has a rider. I thought that because they were my children they wouldn't need them. But they do.” She looked up at him and his eyes met hers. “Rhaegal needs you.”

He leaned his head back against the black dragon and closed his eyes, truly feeling as if the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders and was crushing him one agonizing moment at a time.  But she was beside him and though she was in pain, she was still strong and resolute in her mission. If ever anyone deserved to be called a queen it was Daenerys Targaryen. “I need you. I need you to help me lead and plan. We have to figure out a way to protect our people.”

She smirked. “Our people? Your people,” she said finally. “You're the true heir to the Iron Throne.”

He shook his head. “None of that matters, now.”

“It's always mattered. You are the one that could truly unite the realm of men. We have five days. We could send ravens asking for everyone, serve Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen. King.”

“I don't want to be king,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be King of the North. They named me King. I don’t want the title.”

“Maybe not. But maybe you're the king we choose.”

Ever since he’d known her, she’d been so determined and certain that it was her divine right to be the queen of Westeros. She’d conquered the slave cities, made allies with impossible allies, had three living dragons, and never questioned her ability and right to it all. It made him uneasy that she seemed to be stepping away from it only because of the revelation of his parentage. “You're giving up your claim?”

She shook her head. “No. I want it a different way.”

“How?”

“Rule by your side as an equal,” she answered, then turned on her knees and faced him. “I want to break the wheel that crushes over everyone. The one that cycles rulers and families, putting someone on top at all times but destroying those who depend on their leadership. It's all I've thought about the last few years. Help those who would never be able to help themselves. Allow people to have a voice.”

She had once told him that they both wanted to help people and it could only be done from a position of strength. He’d seen her strength, her power, and knew that the people who followed her believed in her. He believed in her. And her idea of giving power to people to help themselves out of the current system seemed an idea he had never considered. Then, she’d been wielding power and directing others for far longer than he had. “How do  you propose we do this?”

“Everyone has their way of choosing leaders. We would rule together, be the king and queen who advocates for their people. Allow them to address grievances. No longer need spiders and whisperers.  Be open with the people. Allow them to select people to represent them...”

“Why tell me this?” he asked.

“Because this is the world I want to build,” she said as she took his face between her hands and stroked her gloved thumb over his bottom lip. “Like it or not, you're the heir. I can't do it without you, and to be honest...I don't want to.”

He frowned. “But none of this matters if we don't defeat the Night King.”

She sighed. “How do we do that? Even with Cersei’s army, how do we defeat them?”

He held her within the circle of his arms and tried to block out the world.  It was nearly more than he could take.  Giants, wights, the Night King, and now a dragon faster than the two she had. “We’ll consult our counsels.  Maybe someone has an idea,” he said as he pulled back and stood then held his hand out to help her to her feet. “We’ll find a way to win this war.”

She stared at his hand for a moment, then placed hers in his and stood to her feet once more, determination in her gaze. “And if not, we’ll make it such a fight that no one will ever forget it.”

Chapter Text

SANSA

Brienne and Arya walked into the family solar, causing Sansa to look up in question at the two imposing women.  The look on their faces was grave and she wondered what else could possibly go wrong. She’d been examining the scrolls for houses that were declared to the Starks, trying to calculate how many people they were going to be responsible for housing.  Ravens had already been sent, urging everyone to come immediately to Winterfell.  The first groups would arrive the following day and she was certain a steady influx would continue until it all started.

“Jon’s rode off on a dragon to chase Daenerys,” Arya stated and Sansa’s eyes widened a bit.

“He’s riding dragons now?” Sansa questioned.

“Least of our worries,” Arya stated. “Jaime Lannister has arrived and has asked to speak to the person in charge while Jon is out. That leaves you.”

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment. She respected Tyrion because he had always been respectful to her. Jaime, she had no respect for considering how he nearly fell over himself to protect his wicked sister. She often wondered how much agony the world might have avoided had he possessed a spine in order to stand up to his sister. Would Margaery still be alive? Loras? Would Tyrell House still exist?

But he hadn’t fought Cersei on anything she did.  Instead, he’d been complicit. She folded her hands in her lap and nodded at them and Brienne moved to the door to escort Jaime and Bronn into the room.  Arya had moved around the desk, her hand on her sword as they stood before her. “Welcome to Winterfell. Different than when you were last here, isn’t it? After all, most of my family is dead. Thanks to yours.”

She saw Brienne straighten behind Jaime, but the man kept his eyes firmly on Sansa and didn’t waiver. “A lot has happened.”

“It has. Jon told me you would eventually make your way here with Cersei’s army. I’m surprised she held true to her word.”

Bronn turned his head to look at Jaime then the floor.  Jaime, however, glanced down and then back at her. “She didn’t.”

Arya spoke before she did. “What? What do you mean?”

Jaime sighed. “She lied. She has no intention of sending anyone to help in this fight.”

“And she wants you dead?” Sansa questioned. “Otherwise, why would she send you to relay her treachery?”

He hesitated for a moment and then took a deep breath before he answered her, “She didn’t send me. I came of my own accord because I made a promise.”

“Lannisters don’t keep promises they make unless they’re promises of death. Why are you here?”

“I brought a small contingent of men with me. We intend to help in this fight.”

“How small?” Brienne questioned.

Jaime heaved a sigh and answered his eyes meeting Sansa’s once more and she wished she could have him killed and send his head back to his sister. How would the queen of the south handle that? Would she seek vengeance? “Twelve. Including Bronn and myself.”

“Twelve?” Sansa scoffed.

“What do you expect Jon to do with twelve?” Arya asked.

“They’re willing to fight. So are we,” Jaime said, though she wondered how willing Bronn was to enter the fray?

“And we welcome you, brother,” Tyrion’s voice sounded behind Jaime and Bronn and he walked to Sansa, his eyes pleading. “At this point, we need everyone we can get.”

“We don’t need traitors,” she answered. “Why should we trust you?”

“He’s here,” Tyrion answered. “That’s all we need.”

“That’s all you need,” Sansa responded. “He’s your brother and you love him. But he’s been part of schemes that have caused several of my family members to die. We’ve already killed one traitor in Winterfell. Lord Baelish begged for his life at the end. Would you beg as well?”

Sansa could feel Arya step closer to her, prepared to strike if needed, but Brienne spoke up.  “Lady Sansa, may I have a word?”

“I’d like one as well,” Tyrion insisted.

Sansa glanced at Arya who shrugged a shoulder, letting her know that it was her decision.  “Very well.  Guard,” she called and one of the guards from outside the room stood in the doorway.  “Escort Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn to rooms. They must be exhausted after their journey from King’s Landing. Make sure they’re fed as well. I’d hate for anyone to die on an empty stomach,” she threatened.

Jaime looked close to rage, however, he followed the guard out of the room and Bronn stepped to the door. “I really just wanted to speak to Tyrion, if I could before I’m executed.”

“Eat well, Ser Bronn,” Sansa said and he made a face letting her know his displeasure before the guard escorted him out of the room. “Close the door, Brienne.”

She did as asked and Tyrion turned his attention to Sansa. “You can’t kill him or have him killed.”

“Can’t I? He admitted that his sister, your sister, lied to Jon and the queen about sending forces to our aid.”

“But he is here, my lady,” Brienne pleaded. “He could have left us here hoping for them to come. He was true to his word.”

“With the exception of Tyrion, a Lannister’s word doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“At least wait until your brother and Daenerys return,” Brienne pleaded.

“I beseech you, my lady,” Tyrion urged. “He’s come here because he knows what it is we face. I saw that dead thing at the meeting.  Brienne saw it,” he said as he looked to the larger woman to agree.  She nodded as well, her expression grave. “If this has pushed Jaime to come help us, maybe he’s the ally we need.”

Sansa weighed his words carefully. She knew Tyrion loved his brother, to a fault. He’d always believed in Jaime even when it wasn’t warranted. She never understood Tyrion’s loyalty to Jaime. He allowed his sister and father to treat Tyrion badly and claimed he loved him all the same. A part of her, a tiny voice inside her, argued that she had done the same with Jon until she needed him.

She looked at Arya. “What do you think?”

Arya frowned. “He’s telling the truth.”

Tyrion and Brienne both seemed to sag in relief, hoping that would be enough to keep Sansa from carrying out an execution.  “How can you tell?” Sansa asked, not willing to give either of them too much hope.

“The same way I can tell that Tyrion is near to collapsing on the floor and Brienne from flinging herself in front of Jaime to protect him.”  At their looks, Arya continued, her eyes meeting those of her sister. “He’s also not wearing the Lannister armor I saw him in at the Twins, and he only brought twelve men, hardly enough to lead a coup against us. If he did come here, maybe it was against Cersei’s orders.”

Sansa frowned.  “Do you trust him?”

At that, she scoffed.  “No. But then I don’t trust most people,” she answered. “Whatever you decide, I’ll back you,” Arya said finally.  “However, I would caution doing anything before Jon or Daenerys come back.”

“Then the decision will be taken out of my hands.” Tyrion made a sound and she looked over at him.  She almost felt bad.  She did know how the two brothers felt for one another.  It was probably Jaime’s only redeeming feature that he had loved Tyrion despite everyone around him telling him he shouldn’t. At least some part of his small heart still beat for a reason besides his own self-preservation.

Arya shrugged.  “Maybe that’s for the best if you can’t be impartial. I can’t either. Jon and Daenerys are not us, though,” she said softly.

Sansa looked to the pleading face of Tyrion and even Brienne and felt for them. Their care for Jaime Lannister was evident. She wondered if they would think her a monster if she sent Arya to kill him? Would they insist she be killed for not allowing him to defend himself?

“Arya,” she said finally.  “Come with me to the Godswood,” she said as she stood and walked to the door.

“And Jaime?” Tyrion questioned and she turned to face her former husband.

“He’ll stay alive.  For now,” she said as she led the way out of the room.

*~*

Bran was exactly where she wanted him to be. She suspected that Brienne and Tyrion would be with Jaime and Bronn.  The sellsword meant little to her and if she killed Jaime she would allow him to live. She knew he had been loyal to Tyrion and that might be a factor that would keep him from trying to kill her in her sleep. She didn’t want to fight with the Hand to the queen, but she felt strongly about the Lannister family, even if she didn’t count him amongst their most treacherous.

Arya was at her side as Sansa moved to stand in front of Bran who didn’t even react to her presence. “Ser Jamie is here,” Bran said and looked up at Sansa. “And you want to know what to do?”

“I want to know several things,” she said. “Is Jaime here because Cersei sent him?”

He shook his head. “She’s told Euron Greyjoy that if he brings her his head, she’ll marry him.”

Arya shifted at this news. “She cares so little for him? Why?”

“She’s pregnant with his child. She doesn’t need him anymore,” Bran answered.

Sansa frowned and cursed Jaime.  How could he be so stupid? Cersei was pregnant again, and given what Joffrey was, even with the influence of his father, legitimate or otherwise, the child could be worse than his older brother. “Can we trust him?”

Bran nodded. “We can now.”

Arya furrowed her brow and shifted in her stance. “What do you mean, now ?”

At that moment, Jon came into the Godswood, looking as if he had run. He was panting heavily as he moved to stand beside Bran. “What do you mean having Jaime locked away?”

“He’s in a room. Not a cell,” Sansa clarified. “Tyrion meet you as you came into the gate?”

“Brienne,” he answered. “He came to aid us, Sansa.”

“With twelve men.”

This caused Jon to pause, but he looked at his sister with a resolute determination. “Twelve more than we had,” he insisted.

Arya looked back to Bran and frowned. “What did you mean we can trust him now?”

Bran looked at each of them and answered. “I never remembered who did it before I became the three-eyed raven. Once I had the full power, it was one of the first things I watched.”

“What?” Sansa questioned.

“I was shoved from the tower. I had climbed up and found Jaime and Cersei having sex. Cersei kept saying that I saw them and Jaime asked how old I was, and I told him. He looked at her and said ‘The things I do for love’ and he shoved me out of the window.”  Sansa could see Arya grip the hilt of her knife and she hoped that her sister stormed back to the castle and slit his throat.  However, she didn’t. Neither did Jon, but they both looked to the verge of committing murder. “But you can trust him now,” Bran answered. “He argued with Cersei about betraying Jon and Daenerys. He fought for bringing their men North to fight. She nearly had him killed by the Mountain and sent Bronn to kill him on the road here. Bronn is loyal to both Lannister men. They don’t have the army you need,” he said to Jon, “but Jaime is a commander on the battlefield, and you need him.”

She turned her blue eyes to Jon who was staring at Bran, a look between confusion and anger warring over his features. She realized, with some horror, that Jon was considering not having him executed. “You can’t be seriously considering allowing him to live?” But at Arya and Jon’s exchanged look, Sansa was ready to kill him herself. “He nearly killed our brother.”

Jon withdrew Longclaw and knelt before Bran. “It’s your life he nearly took. If you tell me to trust him, to allow him to live and help us, I will.  My word as a Stark, I would avenge you if you say the words.”

“I didn’t die. Had he not taken my legs, I might not be the three-eyed raven now. I’m more than I ever would have been if I was simply Lord Stark.” Bran shook his head. “You need him to help you. He and Bronn know of a weapon to use to take down dragons,” Jon’s shoulders eased at that, and he stood and sheathed Longclaw. “You can trust him.” He looked at the three of them and his eyes met Sansa’s. “He’s not what he once was. He’s here to help. You need help,” Bran said finally, looking at Jon. “Tyrion is advocating to Daenerys, now, to keep Jaime alive.”

Sansa felt rage building in her chest as she watched Jon lower his head then turn his dark eyes to hers. “Don’t.”

“Sansa...you don’t know what’s coming for us.”

“He started all of this when he shoved Bran from that window! Mother went south and told them about what she found. They suspected Tyrion.”

“But all of that was actually started by Littlefinger,” Arya argued.  “The letter to Mother from Lyssa. Jon Arryn’s poisoning.  All of it was because...”

“He nearly killed you!” She practically screamed at Bran, but the younger boy had no reaction to his sister’s rage and hurt. “Am I the only one who thinks that a man who tries to kill a little boy is not a man worth trusting?” How could they not see?

Arya spoke first and looked to Jon. “I...agree with Sansa,” she said softly and Sansa felt relief. If Jon wouldn’t listen to her, he would most assuredly listen to Arya. “But I also agree with Bran.”

“What?” Sansa questioned.

Arya frowned. “He did almost kill Bran. He should be killed for that,” she agreed. “But...the dead are coming and we need someone with skills in planning for battles. Jon and Jaime together could give us a chance...”

“So, his sins against our family mean nothing?”

“They don’t mean...I need him alive, Sansa,” Jon said finally.

“This is like with Ramsay all over again. You didn’t listen to me then and you nearly lost that battle.”

He turned to face her fully, fury on his features and it was the first time that she realized he was more than a Stark. The cold and calculated words he said next cut her as if he’d used his own blade, “The last I checked, I was king in the north,” he said coldly. “Not you. We need every advantage and if that is Jaime fucking Lannister alive to help us plan, then I’ll wait until after we’ve won to dole out justice.”

Sansa’s back straightened, her eyes narrowing at Jon. “Is that your order as a king? Because the last I checked , you bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Aye, I did. Because she was a person willing to fight. She gave up one of her dragons to save my pathetic life after going on a mission that was flawed from the beginning. It was dangerous, she was advised not to, but she took her dragons beyond the wall and saved our lives while losing one of her children.” His eyes never met hers, hard and unyielding, but she didn’t back or look away. “I would bend the knee to that person every day if it meant I had her fighting with me.”

“With you? Or you for her?”

Jon straightened his shoulders and looked down at his hands.  “I asked you once to trust me. That we had to trust one another. I will not hear any more about this, Sansa. I don’t care if you don’t like my decision; it is final,” he said as he began walking away and then turned. “Arya,” he said as he faced them again. “You’re not to kill him, either.”

Arya raised an eyebrow and nodded.  “I won’t.”

Jon gave a final nod and left the Godswood. Sansa looked at Bran who appeared to have something close to sympathy on his face, but it was only a ghost of an emotion before he was back to being strange. He turned his eyes back to the heart tree and Sansa looked at Arya. “I’ve always known that you loved Jon more than me...”

Arya frowned. “That has nothing to do with it,” she said softly. “I’m insulted that you would think that colored my decision in any way.”

“Didn’t it?”

“No. We’re fighting a war, Sansa. War creates strange allies.” She sighed. “I don’t trust Jaime Lannister. I don’t trust any Lannister, not even your former husband. But, I trust Bran, Jon, and you. He heard you and what you had to say. You want us to value your opinion, and I do. But battles are different than politics. Someone with battlefield experience is something we need.”

“And if he betrays us?”

“He’ll die a painful death. You have my word as a Stark,” she said softly.

Sansa frowned and began walking out of the Godswood, Arya beside her. “I suppose that will have to keep me warm at night.”

Arya smirked. “You’ve changed, sister. Used to be thoughts of marrying a prince and having babies that kept you warm.”

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head as it began to snow.  “Now, the only thing that gives me comfort is knowing that eventually, everyone who ever wronged our family will die.”

“I’m not going to kill Jaime Lannister for you,” she said after they made it to outside the doors to the hall. “I told Jon I wouldn’t and I won’t.”

Sansa looked over at her and stopped walking. “I’m not asking you to. The battle will be long and hard. What are the chances a man with one hand makes it out of that alive?”

Arya frowned. “Let’s hope he’s a better war strategist than a swordsman,” she said as she led the way into the hall and back to the solar where Jon was seated behind the desk as Tyrion was speaking to him. They all stopped as Sansa entered, Tyrion looking close to throttling her himself.

“If you’ve come to take my brother’s head, it appears you’ll have to wait,” he said after a moment.

Sansa moved to sit in a chair beside the fire. “I’ll wait to have his head. After he proves himself of some use maybe I won’t take it,” she said as she leveled a look at her former husband and brother. Daenerys entered the room, accompanied by Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, and Bronn. Jaime’s eyes moved to Sansa, and they narrowed at her. Her gaze didn’t waver from his but he eventually turned his attention back to Jon.

“You nearly killed my brother, Bran,” Jon stated evenly.

Tyrion looked over at Jaime and then back at the desk.  Daenerys, however, turned her attention to Jaime. “Is that true?”

Sansa hoped he would lie to prove what an untrustworthy person he was. Then Jon would see that he should die. “I did. An action I deeply regret to this day.”

“My sister has advocated for killing you,” he said, gesturing to Sansa. She felt several people looking at her, but her eyes never wavered from the man who had nearly killed her brother.

Daenerys moved around the desk and took the chair beside Jon. Sansa wondered how much influence she had over Jon. Did he listen to her about strategy? Did she have his complete trust while he still questioned hers? “Your grace,” Tyrion started to interject and Daenerys held up her hand to silence him.

“I believe your brother is fully capable of speaking for himself, Tyrion. Why should we trust you?” Daenerys asked.

“If I was you, I probably wouldn’t. It would be easier to kill me rather than wonder what my true motives are.”

“And I suppose asking you to be honest for the first time in your life would be asking too much?” Sansa inwardly smiled as Daenerys didn’t seem so willing to back down. She was starting to like the dragon queen more than she originally thought. “Ser Jaime, you’ve come to Winterfell to tell us that your sister has broken her word and has no intention of helping us but is doing the very thing she swore she wouldn’t do. Why should we believe that you are here out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I saw that thing,” Jaime said as he stepped forward. “That dead thing that tried to kill my sister. I believed you when you said you went beyond the wall. I believed you when you told me how many. I tried to get Cersei to see reason...”

“But not even you can get through to her. Why shouldn’t I fly my dragon to the Red Keep and roast her alive inside? Take her army from her?”

“A lot of people, innocent people would die if that happened,” Jaime said and Sansa could see that he was trying to get them to see reason.  “I did something horrible years ago, something I’ve lived to regret. A lot of things, actually. But I’m here because I’m trying to keep all of those innocent people, and countless others, from dying as well. Kill me if that’s what you want,” at Tyrion’s attempted protest, Jaime shook his head. “But I’m here to help you.”

Daenerys lowered her head and then looked over at Jon who hadn’t taken his eyes off Jaime. “I spoke with Bran. He says I should trust you now.”  Jaime remained silent, but Sansa felt a sense of panic that he may have talked himself out of being killed. There was a growl behind Jaime and Sansa could see fear race across his face as they all turned slowly, one by one to see the large direwolf, Ghost. The red eyes in his face glowed ominously and Sansa hoped that the wolf would kill him simply because it was feeding off Jon’s anger. Jon shifted in his seat, his eyes locked on the wolf. “I won’t take your head, Ser Jaime. But should you give me a reason not to trust you, you needn’t worry about Arya and her knife, Daenerys or her dragons, or Dothraki screamers.  You should worry that my direwolf will devour you before you can so much as scream.”  The wolf continued to growl and reared back on its haunches, prepared to strike.  “Ghost,” he called and the wolf stopped, righted himself then moved through the room and around to perch beside Jon, towering over him even as he sat down.

Sansa watched Daenerys as she stared at the wolf, that while sitting, was nearly as tall as she was standing. Ghost came and went from the keep as he pleased. He was a direwolf and not all that beholden to command. It made her miss Lady and the bond they could have had. Joffrey and Cersei had robbed her of that. Justice for an injustice. The only injustice was that her sweet pup had to die. One of another long list of reasons she hated Cersei Lannister.

Daenerys turned her attention back to Jaime and resumed her seat beside Jon. Her countenance never changed as she regarded the man who had slain her father. Maybe that was a way to get her to side with Sansa. She knew that if she had Joffrey here she’d want to watch him die a thousand deaths, each more painful than the one before. But her father was very different from Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King. Eddard Stark was honorable, more so than they ever thought, but King Aerys had been mad and threatened to kill everyone in King’s Landing, simply to keep out his enemies. He deserved to die. She would never say that to Daenerys, but the woman had proven to be level-headed enough that she assumed she knew that the Mad King had earned his name. And the murderer was standing before them, offering his help.

Jon stood then and sighed. “I’ll let you keep your life if you tell me how to build the weapon your sister has that can kill a dragon.”

Jaime looked over at Bronn and then back at Jon.  “I can do that,” he said finally.

Sansa looked down at her hands, wishing there was something she could do or say to make all of them change their minds, but when she realized there wasn’t, she stormed from the room.

Chapter Text

JAIME

He felt a bit of smug satisfaction that Sansa didn’t get what she wanted. Part of the smugness was because he got to keep his life. He didn’t know exactly how they knew what he’d done, what role he played in the near death of their brother, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Jaime was only so happy that Jon and Daenerys seemed to be reasonable, though he was curious if it would be his last day alive. It probably would have been had they not arrived when they had.

“Guard,” Jon called and one of the many guards appeared in the doorway. “I need Greyworm of the Unsullied, Ser Jorah Mormont, Sandor Clegane, and the Lords of each house in the hall within the hour. I need a map of the North. A recent one,” he said and Daenerys stood as well, her shoulders back, ready to face the coming battle as well. Jaime watched as the guard left and then turned back to Jon.

Daenerys looked at Bronn and spoke, “Tell me about his weapon.”

Jaime walked over to the wall and removed a crossbow, showing the center arm of the bow.  “There is a metal piece, like that of a hip joint, that gives it free movement and allows it to rotate in all directions. There’s a mechanism that you crank to pull the string tight.”

“How heavy is the weapon?” Jon questioned.

“A spear as large as I am only pierced the black dragon...”

“Not from lack of trying,” Bronn added and Jaime noticed the cold look Daenerys gave him. “No offense.”

An hour later found them in the great hall, a large map spread out on a table and held down with various knives. Tyrion had placed a bag on the table and removed several pieces taken from Daenerys’ painted table at Dragonstone.  Three dragons, two of which were placed over Winterfell and the other at the Wall.  Jaime felt his heart sink.  Cersei had been right, she had lost a dragon.  “You don’t have all three?” he questioned.

She shook her head.  “The Night King has it,” she answered, her tone cold.

We’re fucked. “Which is why you need the weapon,” Jaime realized and shook his head.  “How?”

“In an effort to bring your sister a wight,” Daenerys replied, and her tone was cold and accusing. “I went to the capture party beyond the wall.  The Night King threw an ice spear and killed Viscerion. He’s apparently resurrected him and that’s what they used to bring down the wall.”

Jaime’s head was spinning.  Not only did the Night King have a dragon but the wall was down.  “When did the wall come down?”

Jon frowned.  “A few days ago.  They’ll be here in five days.”

“How do you know that?” Bronn questioned.

Jon furrowed his brow. “We have a greenseer amongst us.”

He took in that information and regarded the King in the North.  “Anything else I should know?”

Jon shook his head, but Daenerys nodded.  “Jon is the true heir to the Iron Throne.  He is the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.  There is a Maester’s record that shows his marriage to Elia Martell was annulled while at the same time he married Lyanna.”

Jaime looked to Daenerys. “And you still fight beside the man who will replace you on the throne?”

Jon looked over at her and then back at Jaime. “I’m not replacing her.  We’ll take the throne from your sister together. After we defeat the dead.”

Jaime frowned and realized they’d been honest with him when they didn’t have to be.  He hated that he felt obligated to do the same. “Cersei has purchased the Gold Company. She’ll be using Euron’s ships to bring them to King’s Landing.”

“He might have a bit of a fight from some of the Iron Fleet,” Jon responded. “Theon has gone to get his sister.”

“And you expect him to win?” Jaime scoffed.

“I expect that Theon will not come back empty handed,” he answered. “Seeking revenge for your family can be a powerful motivator.”

*~*

Two hours later found Jaime, Bronn, Sandor Clegane, Tyrion Lannister, Ser Davos Seaworth, Brienne of Tarth, Lord Glover, Jorah, Lady Mormont and the rest of the North’s bannermen all gathered around the table.  The pieces had been laid out and Lord Glover was currently arguing with Tyrion about the use of the Northron forces and how he was uncertain that a Lannister should dictate his troops' movements.

Daenerys spoke up.  “Enough.  Lord Glover, Tyrion Lannister is my hand.  Jaime Lannister is a tried and tested battle commander who even had the misfortune of facing off against one of my dragons.  You’re part of our army as we’re willing to sacrifice our lives to try to save those of your people. All people.  Allow yourself to listen.”

Lyanna Mormont stepped forward and turned to the Queen.  “Where would you like the soldiers of Bear Island?”

Jaime nearly smiled at the fight in the little girl.  “Bear Island will be well represented closest to the wall.  I don’t know what your weapon specialty is, my lady...”

“I’m best with a bow,” she answered. “I can use a sword, but I prefer the bow.”

“How many people do you have, Lady Mormont?”

“One hundred thirty-four. Twenty-three tested soldiers that fought with King Snow at the Battle of the Bastards.  The others have been training since we were asked to do so.  Seventy archers, fifteen with spears, but most are good with the use of a sword.”

Jaime smiled at the little bear and nodded, taking the figure and setting it on the wall.  “I would have your archers on the wall, you as well, to help lead them.  Since the dead can be killed by fire, we’ll have it beside you, ready to light your arrows.”

“Fire,” Daenerys said at looked around at the group.  “That’s the key to protecting the keep.  What if we were to dig trenches and cover that with pitch?  Only light a level once the group has had to retreat.  It buys us time and allows us to regroup, but keeps the dead at bay for a bit.”

“Where, my queen?” Jorah asked.  Daenerys looked at the map.

“Moats of fire.  The Unsullied,” she said as she looked at Greyworm, “our first line.  Skilled warriors to fight and finish off as much of the dead as they can.  The dead army has giants, so those will need to be eliminated first.  Cut them off at the knees and use the dragon glass to kill them.”

Jon moved over beside her and looked at the loop she’d drawn around the northern side of the castle.  “Should the Unsullied have to retreat, the next phase will be the remaining Unsullied and the Dothraki.  We’ll keep as many of their archers on the wall as we can, but their horses and skills mounted will help us,” he said, seeing Daenerys’ plan and realizing that it could work.  “Then another moat of fire,” he said.  We’ll leave this the widest berth closest to the castle.  We need four of those...Scorpions,” he looked to Jaime who nodded at the use of the name, “on the wall.  If that dragon gets close to our troops, it’s to be shot down.  We need spears forged of dragonglass.”

“We have a skilled blacksmith in our service,” Davos responded. “I believe Gendry could make what you’re asking. He was trained by one of the best in King’s Landing.”

“Gendry says he’s a fighter,” Jon reminded.

“He was a smith, first,” Arya answered.  “He could forge them,” she said as she moved over to the table.  “Who is defending the wall?”

Daenerys used the sigils of House Glover, Manderly, Stark, and the rest of the Northern banners against the wall then placed the lion of the Lannisters.  “We’ll have a contingent inside the walls should anything get through.  But this is the hold for the North.  This is where The North will make its stand.”

“And what of the dragons?” Davos asked.  “We’re fighting one, yes, but what of the other two?”

Jon and Daenerys looked at one another and it was then Jaime realized they were more than just allies.  When had the King in the North, now proclaimed to be the heir of the Seven Kingdoms, bed the Mother of Dragons?  Jon didn’t strike him as a man capable of seducing a woman, he lacked the overall confidence needed.  That left the dragon queen, who seemed to ooze confidence in her every movement.  It explained why they proclaimed they were going to rule together, take the kingdom from Cersei together.

Love always seemed to play a part, despite how the foundation of it all seemed to be at complete odds with wars that were raged.  “Daenerys will be on Drogon, the winged shadow,” Jon said.  “Making sweeps towards the back.  I think we should aim for the White Walkers, as we know when one falls that those they turned fall as well.”

“And the green dragon?” Jorah questioned.

“Jon will ride Rhaegal until which time it falls back to the third line.  He’s then on the ground with you,” Daenerys answered.  “And I’ll continue with Drogon and Rhaegal to make sweeps.  Ser Jorah, Bronn, and Clegane, I would request that the three of you use your skills to defend the walls.  Ser Davos, I would put you on the wall with Lady Mormont.”

“And Brienne?” Jaime asked.  “Where will she be?”

“Protecting Sansa.”

“And me?” Arya asked.  “And Gendry?”

Jon sighed as he looked over at his younger sister. Jaime could see that Jon didn’t want to entertain the thought of her on the battlefield, but from what he’d seen of the young Stark girl, no one would tell her shouldn’t do something, even if that person was her brother and king.  “You’ll be inside the courtyard,” he finally settled. “No one will defend it better than a Stark.” He turned to Bronn.  “Since you know how to shoot the Scorpion, I need you to show others.  Make sure they work and how to aim and shoot them.”

Bronn nodded.  Jaime looked to Jon.  “And me?”

“You’ll be leading the troops on the ground,” Lord Glover stood straighter and Jaime looked to him in frustration.  But Jon spoke first.  “Jaime has experience with battles, even against a dragon.  We need him.  I ask that you put the same faith in him that you have in me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lord Glover nodded.  Jaime felt a bit better that the hard-nosed men of the North saw that it was better he was with them than against them.  Jaime looked at the map of Winterfell and the North wall in particular.  “We need the Scorpions on these towers.  They’ll have a full range of motion, able to swivel from side-to-side and up and down.”

“We need Dragon glass spears.  And we need to know of all the Valyrian steel at our disposal.  Who has swords made of it?  Valyrian steel can kill the Walkers.”

“Brienne and I both have it,” Jaime said softly, not telling Jon or the others that their swords were made from Ned Stark’s blade, Ice. Jaime shared a look with the lady and she frowned sadly.  She wasn’t in much of a hurry to tell them either, it seemed.  He wondered how Jon and Arya would react to knowing their father’s sword had been melted down to make two new ones.  Would they demand they turn them over? Would they use his sword to remove his head?

“Samwell Tarly has one as well.”

“Samwell Tarly?” Jaime questioned.  “Son of Randall Tarly?”

“Yes. He was my brother at the Night’s Watch. He’s been here for several weeks.”

Jaime’s eyes turned to Daenerys and her eyes met his, unwavering. “Does he know you roasted his father and brother alive?”

Everyone turned to Daenerys who appeared unmoved. “It’s common knowledge they died on the field,” she answered.

“They survived the battle. It's after you'd won they lost their lives.”

Daenerys seemed unmoved by this fact. “They were given a choice: bend the knee or die.”

“Not much of a choice, was it?”

“And what would your sister have done? Would she have let them choose?” Jaime thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I was true to my word. Two died to show one hundred not to be equally stupid. Those men are here amongst my fighting force.”

“Again, that doesn't sound like much of a choice.”

Daenerys settled into her stance and tilted her head at him as if he was a small child and she had to indulge him. “You're right. It's not. I didn't choose any of this. I didn't choose to be exiled from my home as a baby. I didn't choose to marry a Khal who raped me. I didn't choose for my son to die. I didn’t choose to be the Mother of Dragons.” She paused for a moment and her face grew stern. “I did choose to free the slave cities. I did choose to take the Unsullied and free them. I chose to kill the Khals and lead the Dothraki. I chose to bring my ships to Westeros. I chose not to fly to the Red Keep and kill all of you while you slept.” She tilted her head. “I chose to side against Sansa Stark in wanting you dead even though you killed my father. I've had a lot of choices taken out of my hands. It's more than I can say for the Tarlys.”

The tension was broken by a guard who didn't realize he was interrupting a very tense moment. “Your grace, Tormund Giantsbane and Beric Dondarrion have arrived and are with Lady Sansa.”

Jon nodded.  “My Lords, you are dismissed.  Queen Daenerys, Arya, Ser Jaime, Ser Bronn, Ser Jorah, and Lady Brienne please stay.” Jaime took the opportunity to look around the room and his eyes fell to the large white wolf sleeping in front of the hearth. He remembered seeing the pups for the first time, years ago. They could still be referred to as pups. But now, the great wolf was as large as his horse and seemed to be possessive of his master.  Bronn moved over to Jaime while the room was quiet and whispered, “You couldn’t fucking tell me you tried to murder the little boy before we got here?”

Jaime scowled at Bronn. “How was I supposed to know that now would be the time that this was brought up?”

He narrowed his eyes at Jaime. “Anything else you’ve done to this family they don’t know about? Sansa Stark was trying to separate you from your head.”

He shook his head. “Nothing they don’t know about.”

Bronn nodded. “Good. I fucking hate surprises,” he said as the doors opened and two large men entered the room. The large wildling that was kissed by fire, eyed Brienne. The Wildling obviously had some sort of attraction to her and he was unsure how he felt about it.

“Lady Brienne, you look as...fearsome as always,” he greeted, his voice rough and his accent distinctly Northorn.  Bronn started laughing from beside him and everyone turned to look at the man that was nearly doubled over with it, however, Tormund never tore his eyes Brienne, giving her a cheeky smile when she looked back at him.

“I’m glad to see you both survived Eastwatch,” Daenerys said, trying to draw attention away from Bronn.

Beric gave her a nod. “It was thanks to you we made it back there in the first place, your grace.”

Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what happened beyond the wall, but he knew that Beric Dondarrion was said to be the leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners. He’d just called Daenerys Targaryen ‘your grace’. The day had been incredibly strange. An hour ago he wasn’t sure if he would be food for a direwolf and now he was going to help lead the charge against the dead when they marched on Winterfell.  Incredibly strange day.

“Better she came than the one that fucks her brother,” Tormund said, to which Jon hid a smile behind a cough. Brienne looked over at Jaime and he felt the sting of it. This Wildling thought little of him, apparently. “Dragons are much more useful in situations like that.”

“Tell us about the wall,” Daenerys interjected, probably to keep the Wildling from saying anything else to unknowingly bring shame to the commander of their army.

Chapter Text

ARYA

Two hours later found the group on horses riding away from Winterfell. They came to the tree line and Jon climbed from his horse, the rest of the group following suit. Arya stayed close to her brother, not trusting one of them to not try to kill him.

“We’ll stagger the Unsullied,” Jaime started and looked at one of the builders responsible for shoring up the defenses of Winterfell. He walked several paces away from the treeline and looked to Jon and Daenerys. “The first moat of fire should be far enough from the trees, so we don’t ignite the forest but far enough from the keep to allow those that are mounted to be better able to move.”  He took the shovel the builder had in his hand, “Start here,” he said and plunged the Shovel into the nearly frozen ground. “You’ll probably need more than shovels to dig. Axes to break the frozen ground.”

Jon moved twenty feet closer to the keep and looked back at them. “This wide,” he said and another shovel was plunged into the ground where he stood. “We need men working day and night.”

“How much pitch do we have?” Jaime asked.

“Bear Island has stores of it, your grace. I can have a raven sent to bring all we can,” Lyanna Mormont offered. Arya liked this little girl. She saw much of herself in the determined gleam in her eyes and smiled.

Jon nodded at her and Lord Manderly then, “I’ll have my men bring our stores as well.”

“How many barrels?”

Lyanna’s advisor whispered into her ear and she announced, “Eighty from Bear Island.”

“Fifty from White Harbor.”

Sansa tilted her head and looked around at the group and spoke next. “We have our own stores as well. Thirty-seven was the last count done,” she offered.

Jaime frowned. “That’s not enough.”

“No, but it’s a start. Can we have more of it made in that time?” Jon questioned.

“With the right amount of manpower and materials, that should be easily accomplished,” Davos offered. “With the stores that we have and the ones we have five days to make?” He looked to Jon, questioning the number of days. Off Jon’s nod, he continued, “We should be able to double the amount we have now.”

Tyrion spoke up then and turned to the Queen. “Your dragons will be the ones that will have to light the fires.”

“My dragons are well up to the task,” she answered. At that moment, Rhaegal flew overhead followed by Drogon.  They landed near them, causing the group to duck at the large shadows that fell to the ground. Daenerys walked towards them and Arya followed her.

“How do you command them?” Arya asked as they grew closer to the two beasts.  The black one was considerably larger than the other. Their scales almost seemed to shine in the sunlight.

Daenerys looked over at her and back to the dragons. “It depends. They’re easier to control if they’d eaten recently. They only respond to High Valyrian.”

Arya scoffed. “Jon does not speak High Valyrian.”

She looked over at Arya. “Yes, I gathered that.”

“I’m sorry about your other dragon,” Arya said softly. “I’ve lost family as well.”

Daenerys frowned. “Both of us have lost brothers, our mothers, and our fathers. Let’s hope we don’t lose anyone else.”

“This is war, your grace. Loss is expected.”  She saw Daenerys stop as the black dragon moved closer and nuzzled her with his snout.  She smoothed her hand over him and he eyed Arya. She turned her eyes from the dragon and to the dragon queen who was actually watching Jon. “Jon said you’re going to take the Iron Throne together. How is that going to work, exactly?”

Daenerys sighed and dropped her hand from the dragon. “Not that I’ve discussed it with him at length, simply a mutual understanding that we want to be at one another's side as equals.”

“So, marriage, then?”

Daenerys nodded and smiled at Arya. “Yes.”

“Why do you have to get married?” she questioned. “If you’re going to make a new world, don’t you make the rules?”

Arya watched the surprised expression on the other woman’s face, but then her smile. “I suppose we do. However, considering my claim on the throne and Jon’s, it would be easier for loyalties to us not to be divided.”

She watched the Dragon Queen as she moved over to the green dragon and pet him in the same way did the first. She moved closer and sighed. “You love him. Jon, that is.”

Daenerys seemed interested in her hand moving over the scales of her dragon and then turned to Arya. “I do. I haven’t said as much to him, though, I think he knows.”

“That’s why you went after him North,” Arya said with an understanding tilt of her head. “But you weren’t together.”

“No,” Daenerys admitted. “I don’t think even I realized I loved him. At least not then.”

“When?”

Daenerys frowned and she looked over at Jon who was speaking with Lord Manderly and Lord Glover. Arya glanced at her brother and then back at the dragon queen. “When I saw what he would do to protect people. What he would give up.”

“His life,” Arya said softly. “He’s always been destructive, that way.”

Daenerys chuckled and nodded. “His men killed him, his bannermen turned their backs on him when he needed them to take Winterfell, and he came south to see a Dragon Queen to make her understand that they needed to join forces.” She looked over at Arya and smiled. “How could I not fall in love with that man?”

“Sansa accused me of loving Jon more than her,” she rolled her eyes. “My sister has a flair for the dramatic sometimes. But I’ve felt an affinity for Jon because I felt like an outcast, too. I never thought there would be anyone who would deserve him. But I suppose if there had to be someone, it would be the Mother of Dragons.”

Daenerys smiled and looked at Arya. “Thank you. And since you’ve been very honest and open with me, let me ask you a question.” Arya nodded. “What is your relationship with Gendry?”

Arya turned her eyes from Daenerys to the dragon. “There is no relationship. We knew one another years ago.”

“There’s more to it than that, though,” Daenerys said with a smile. “At least, on your part.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s my job as a queen to notice these things. You also quickly left the room when he arrived.”

She sighed and frowned. “He didn’t tell Jon we knew one another. I needed time to process that he was alive. For years I thought he was dead and I simply needed to get over him.”

Daenerys tilted her head at the younger girl and frowned. “It’s easier to say than to do; get over someone you love. I didn’t think after the Khal I would ever find someone I could love again.”

Arya was confused. She had heard Daenerys say that the Khal had hurt her, raped her. Yet she loved him? Sansa had been raped as well, but she fed Ramsay Bolton to his own dogs. “He raped you, though.”

She nodded. “He did. But...it's more complicated than that. It was difficult for me when I was sold off by my brother to Drogo. Viserys wanted Drogo’s army, a full Khalasar. He would do anything to get his army and he didn’t care how much it hurt me or what I wanted.” She paused for a moment, her silver hair whipping in the wind and looked at the tents that sat on the land of the North. Dothraki tents. “I don’t think Drogo was ever cruel to me on purpose. Dothraki don’t know another way other than to mount women like animals. I had a decision to make as to whether I was going to be a victim or I was going to rule, be the Khaleesi I was meant to be. I got some helpful advice on how to tame my husband and I fell in love with him in the process.” She looked at Arya then. “And a witch killed him.”

“What did you do?”

“I burned her alive,” she answered. “I put my dragon eggs into his funeral pyre, tied her to it, and I walked into the fire with my husband. When it all burned away, she and he were gone, but in their place, I had my children. Drogon, Rhaegal and Viscerion.”

“Why would you name one of your dragons after your brother that sold you?”

She hesitated for a moment and then sighed. “For so long it was just Viserys and I. And as much as I hated him, I loved him, too. He was my brother and for a very long time, the only family I had.”

“Now you have Jon.”

She smiled and looked over at the King in the North who was approaching them. “And now I have Jon,” she agreed.

“Davos spoke with Gendry. He’s recruited men to help him build the Scorpions based on the drawings Bronn and Jaime provided.”

“Do you think he could have four of them built in that amount of time?” Daenerys asked.

Jon smiled weakly. “If he can run back to Eastwatch and get word to you, I’m willing to give him some faith.” He turned and looked at Arya. “A word?” Jon asked and Arya followed him away from Daenerys who moved back to Tyrion and Jaime as they stood to examine the landscape of where the battle would take place.

“How do you know Gendry?”

Arya rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious that I did.”

“When you left this morning, I didn’t think anything of it. But the look on his face when he saw you enter with Bran, and the one on yours, told me you knew one another.”

“A long time ago.”

He looked uncomfortable with the conversation and Arya almost laughed at how it seemed to pain Jon to ask a question. “In what...way?”

She smiled then, unable to control it. “Gendry never touched me. Do you think he would have hands if he did?”

Jon nodded and smiled. “I hear you’re formidable with your sword.”

Arya shrugged. “I hear you came back from the dead. How true is that?”

“True,” he said and looked at the ground.

“I hope you killed the traitors.”

He nodded and whispered. “I did. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

She nodded and looked at Daenerys. “Yes, we do. How is it that the former bastard of Winterfell not only became King in the North but also the lover of the Queen of Dragons?”

“I didn’t realize it was so obvious that I was,” he parroted back.

She smirked. “You’re terrible at hiding it. Both of you. Chasing after her when she learned of her dragons fate, you’re going to rule the Seven Kingdoms together, and the longing looks you keep giving one another are a dead give away. I’m sure anyone who has been around the two of you for longer than a few minutes has sussed it out. Sansa and I did when you first arrived.”

He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with my sisters discussing my love life behind my back.”

Arya’s smile turned wicked. “We can discuss it in front of you if you like.”

He paused and chuckled. “Behind my back is fine. What of Gendry?”

She asked defensively, “What of him?”

“You want him guarding your back in the courtyard. You trust him and I get the feeling that you don’t trust anyone anymore.”

She shrugged. “He earned my trust a long time ago.”

“How did he do that?”

“He saved my life a time or two. Protected me when I didn’t think I needed protecting.”

He furrowed his brow. “He seems to be a good man.”

“He is. Second to only one I know,” she answered.

Jon and Arya began walking back to the group, allowing the moment to hang between them. Her affection for Jon had been clear throughout the years they grew up together. He was always the one to treat her with respect and knew of her longing to be a knight. It’s why he had Needle made for her, always encouraging her to pursue what made her happy and not allow the fact that she was a girl to hinder her. Arya didn’t think he ever thought she would become the faceless man that she was, but she also didn’t see him questioning it.

“Queen Daenerys is going to ask the Dothraki to help dig the trenches,” Tyrion told Jon as he and Arya joined them.

Jon nodded. “Do you think they will?”

Jorah smiled. “Dothraki will do as their Khaleesi commands.”

They all began walking back to their horses and Jaime looked at Daenerys. “How did a Targaryen end up the Khaleesi to a horde of Dothraki screamers?”

She stopped walking and they all did as well. She looked over at Tyrion, and Jorah, but settled on Jaime. “I burned all the Khals alive and walked out of the fire,” she said, her tone leaving no guess that she was being honest.

“All the Khals?”

“And their blood riders,” Jorah provided. “I was there to witness it. The Dothraki serve the Queen of Dragons, the Unburnt. She walked out of the flames and they bent the knee to her then and there.”

“The Unsullied,” Arya asked?

They arrived back at their horses and Jorah began speaking. “She tricked the master of Astapor. Promised him a dragon slave in exchange for his eight thousand Unsullied. It’s how she also acquired Messandie, as she was Kraznys mo Nokloz's interpreter. Little did we all realize that it wasn’t just words or phrases that the queen knew of High Valyrian. She speaks it fluently. She heard everything that cretin said, and none of it had been kind. When the Unsullied were hers, she ordered them to kill all the masters, and Drogon roasted the Astapor soldiers alive.”

“You burn a lot of people,” Jaime commented.

“Only those who deserve it,” she said as she climbed onto her horse and looked at Jaime. “Try not be someone who deserves it, Ser Jaime,” she said before she took her horse and rode off to Winterfell. Arya smiled and followed behind her with Jon and the others.

*~*

She walked down the stairs and stopped outside the cracked door of the hall, leaning against the stone at hearing men laugh. From the voices, she could make out it was Sandor, Tyrion, Podrick, Bronn, Beric and Tormund. They all sounded disgustingly drunk. Men and their ales.

“How is it that you were married to Sansa Stark and you never fucked her?” Sandor asked, nearly slurring his words.

Tyrion spoke. “Because I don’t believe in forcing a woman who is repulsed by me.”

“He also had a whore on the side. Rather daring to have her as your wife’s maid,” Bronn retorted.

“How did the subject get turned to me when we were discussing Podrick and his magic way of making whores give away their cunts for free?” Tyrion asked.

The room was silent and then Sandor’s voice sounded. “This fucker?”

“That fucker,” Bronn answered. “As a reward for saving Tyrion’s life at Blackwater, he bought three of the best whores in all King’s Landing for young Pod. And the man brought all the gold back.”

Tormund’s voice sounded this time. “You got a magic cock, boy?”

“More like our young Podrick is proficient at the Lord’s Kiss, wet and glorious as it is,” Tyrion said to which a few laughed, one of which was the Hound.

“Three separate women?” The hound asked. Podrick, however, remained silent. “How do you know any of this is true?”

Bronn’s voice sounded. “I fucking asked them! You think I would take anyone’s word for that?”

“Arya,” she heard behind her and turned to find Brienne and all the men in the other room went silent. “What are you doing?”

“I was...going to the kitchens. Gendry hasn’t eaten,” she said as she opened the door and strode passed the men in the room and she knew Brienne had entered behind her as Tormund stood and offered her a smile. She hid her own, thinking that the Wilding might be well suited to Brienne of Tarth.

*~*

Arya moved into the forge and found Gendry bending a piece of metal across his anvil. His true name could make him more if Jon or Daenerys would legitimize him. None of it mattered to her anyway. He was Gendry. Her Gendry. She didn’t know why she felt so possessive of him. She hadn’t seen him in years, and though she had admitted to Sansa that she had once loved him, she wasn’t sure how it was possible to still feel that way after all this time.

Gendry confused her. There were times that he would look at her and she would feel flushed throughout her neck and face. Some sort of twinkle in his ever blue eyes and she was lost to the look of him. Feeling such as these were dangerous. Nothing was more dangerous than love and lust. Even hatred and anger could be curved into something useful when it came to taking a life. Love made you want to change because how could anyone love such a monster that could so ruthlessly kill?

“Shut the door,” he said, his back to her as he had turned to put the point back into the fire. “Wind’s going to cause the fire to die,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder at her. She did close it and moved to the bench near the table where he worked. There were ten other identical spears on a rack beside the wall.

She thought he would probably work through the night. Arya reached into the bag at her hip and placed a wrapped loaf of bread on the table for him as well as a cask of wine. “I thought you might be hungry. You weren’t in the hall for dinner.”

He used a cloth and wiped the tip of the spear off and then set it beside the others.  He rolled his shoulders and then stretched them over his head, causing the bottom of his tunic to ride up just enough to give her a view of the muscles of his abdomen and she flashed to when she’d been a child and watched him forge swords without his shirt on. She’d been only a girl, but even then she knew what a beautiful man he was. He’d been covered in soot, his hair sticking up in every direction as he eyed his handiwork while she eyed him.

“I don’t know how you lived in the North for so long. I don’t feel like I’ll ever be warm again,” he commented as he tore a chunk of the bread off and then took a bite.

She sat on his workbench and opened the cask of wine and held it out to him and he took it gratefully. “The South was too warm for me,” she commented. “You didn’t hear me bitching about it.”

“If one more person accuses me of whinging or bitching I’m going to use one of these bloody spears to end their life.”

She smiled.  “We’ve been through this, you can’t take me.” He chewed the bite in his mouth and didn’t say anything but the look on his face told her he wanted to. Instead, he stared at her hands which were folded in her lap and another drink of wine. “How much more are you going to make?”

“Until I’m out of materials,” he responded, but he put his back to her again. “Never know how many shots it will take to bring a dragon down. We start on the Scorpions in an hour.”

“Right person on the weapon and it shouldn’t take that many spears, right?”

Gendry turned to face her. “I don’t know. I know that the big black dragon was hit on a field of battle and still managed to destroy the weapon that struck it and nearly killed Jaime Lannister. It hardly stopped flying,” he responded. “But then, beyond the wall, one of them fell. All of this is over my head and station,” he commented.

She heard the bitterness in his tone and decided to question him on it. “What does that mean?”

He sighed. “I’m back to being a smith.”

“Davos suggested you and your skills. I agreed with him. Thought your skill was the one they needed...”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? My only contribution to this world is making weapons. Not wielding one.”

She sighed this time and shook her head. “You’re being stupid. If they really thought that, why would they put you in the courtyard with me when the fighting starts?”

“Because of you, I’m sure. Did you give them the chance to argue?”

She paused and realized she hadn’t. How was it he was still able to read her and her intentions so well? “No, because it’s a good plan. Who would watch my back better than you?”

Gendry leaned against the bench and frowned. “No one.”

“Exactly. And if Jon only thought of you as a smith, do you think he would allow me to sway his decision on who would be there with his sister?” She smiled. “Jon thinks more of you than what you think of yourself.”

“He’s a good man.”

“I’d been telling you that for years.”

He winced. “All of this goes back to how can someone so small be such a pain in my ass,” he asked? Though he sounded annoyed, he didn’t do a very good job of keeping the smile off his face. He lifted his smithing hammer and heaved another block of dragon glass onto the bench, causing her to move over a bit, putting her closer to where he’d be standing once he began working.  She reached for the loaf and pulled another piece off and held it out to him and he took it from her and popped it into his mouth as he stood beside her and reached for his chisel.

“Jon and the queen are sleeping together,” she blurted, unsure of why she told him.

He put the hammer onto of the piece of stone and looked over at her. He sighed and tilted his head. He didn’t look surprised, though. “Are you unhappy about this?”

Arya shook her head. “No. I like Daenerys. She’s exactly what I always pictured a Targaryen princess to be. Fierce. Commanding. A dragon,” she finished and then looked at her hands. “Though, she is shorter...”

“So, what’s wrong?” he asked.

She looked at him, tilting her head and wondering exactly what his reaction would be to the next part. “Sex.”

Gendry blinked at her for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m not doing it. I’m not having a conversation with you about sex .”

She furrowed her brow as he turned away from her and grabbed a heavier hammer. “Why?”

He leveled a glare at her, but it answered none of her questions. She couldn’t talk to Sansa about it as she already smirked and smiled at Arya every time Gendry was mentioned. Her sister thought it was a great new sport to see how red Arya’s ears could turn when Gendry was caught watching her. She contemplated ‘sheep shitting’ Sansa’s bed again for retribution.

“For one, it’s not appropriate. You’re a lady, whether you like to acknowledge it or not. I’m a bastard, of a king, yes, but as of this moment, I’m a smith working on weapons for your brother . The true King. Second,” he heaved a sigh, “I don’t want to talk about sex with you. It’s strange and I don’t want to.”

“First,” she mocked, “I realize I’m a Lady, I just hate being one. And I know who you are and I don’t need a reminder about that either. And second, who else am I supposed to talk to? Pod?”

“No!” he huffed out a breath. “Arya, can’t you find a...female?”

“Who? Sansa? She was raped by Ramsay Bolton and won’t even talk about all the things that happened to her, so she’s out. Brienne? She’s as much a maid as I am, so no help there. The dragon queen, maybe? She is, after all, the one fucking my brother. I suppose I could talk to her...”

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her directly in the face. “Please stop.”

“Why?”

He hung his head. “Arya, how is it that everyone else in this keep understands about...Everyone already thinks that we had an inappropriate relationship. If someone overheard our conversation it would make it worse.”

“Why do you care what they think about you?”

He shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t! I care what they think about you!”

“You’re going to have to explain better.”

He released her and stepped back. “Get out.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Not until you explain yourself.”

“The fact that I have to explain myself is part of the problem,” he said through gritted teeth.

She hung her head, unable to hide her frustration. “You’re my only friend. The only person, besides Jon, that I feel like doesn’t judge me for who I am. I came to you because I thought you would be understanding.”

He tossed the hammer onto the bench beside her and hung his head as well. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

Her gray eyes met his blue ones. “You don’t mind me asking?”

“I mind a great deal, but I won’t have you run off angry with me or with questions and have you ask or say something to the wrong person for someone to take advantage of how little you know.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No one touches me unless I want them to,” she responded. “But I do have questions.”

“I’ll answer what I can, I suppose,” he said, though his tone told her he didn’t want any part of this conversation.

“What’s the Lord’s Kiss?”

Gendry pursed his lips together and then shook his head.  “No, I was right, I can’t do this,” he said as he lifted his head.

“You once told me to pull my cock out and take a piss, you can’t tell me what the Lord’s Kiss is?”

“I didn’t know you were high born...”

“Again with the lady stuff," she groaned in frustration. "Act like I’m one of the men at the pub. Explain it to me that way.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather explain it to the High Septon,” he said as he braced himself on the table, “Or to your brother, in a hall full of his bannermen, than explain it to you.”

She winced. “Is it bad? Is that why? Does it hurt?”

She thought it was endearing that there was now two matching patches of pink on his cheeks. Whatever it was, it made him uncomfortable.  “Alright,” he started, “I need to know the context in which you heard of it?”

“Bronn was teasing Podrick about being the best at the Lord’s Kiss so that whores wouldn’t take his money.”

Gendry furrowed his brow. “Bronn said this?”

“Fine, it was Tyrion. And then there was laughing and Brienne caught me listening to them and they stopped talking once they realized I was there. So, I know this much, it has to do with sex and it’s messy or..wet,” she trailed off and then turned her curious eyes to Gendry who looked nearly the color of the Targaryen’s red dragons on Daenerys’ banners.

“Both, actually,” he grunted. At her prodding look, Gendry swallowed hard. “It’s when...I can’t have you look at me while I tell you.”

“So you want me to close my eyes?”

He sighed. “No, I want you to leave so we can pretend we never had this conversation,” he mumbled. He must have realized she wasn't leaving and he sighed. “Yes. Close your eyes.”

She gave him a critical look but then closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

GENDRY

He was going to hit Podrick squarely with his hammer as soon as he saw him.  Bronn and Tyrion, too.  And as he watched her, sitting on the bench in the forge, waiting for his explanation, he realized that having her eyes closed did nothing to make this easier. “Alright, so the Lord’s Kiss,” he started, “is...” he hesitated, trying to make it not sound so vulgar, but knew there wasn’t a way. “When a man kisses a woman’s cunt.”

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. “People do that?”

He chuckled. “Aye.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels good,” he responded.

She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “Have you done it?”

He was silent and wanted to jump into the fire to avoid answering the question. It was a near impossible question to answer as he didn’t know if he would actually be able to form the words.  He glanced at her and could see that she was staring at him expectantly.  “Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“Not as much as she did,” he answered.

She frowned. “Then why do it?”

He sighed, wishing to get out of the seemingly endless conversation. “Because she liked it. All of it is easier when a woman is wet down there.”

“And that works for that?”

“Yes.”

“What’s it like?”

He groaned and glared at her.  “I’m done discussing this.”

She must have realized that she was pushing her luck in getting him to answer questions about this particular subject and so she changed her questioning track. “How many women have you had?”

He lowered his head and then looked at her. “Two.”

“Who were they?” she asked, and there seemed to be a tinge of anger to her voice, but he ignored it.  “Did you love them?”

He scoffed. “No. They were just...no one important.”

“They were paid?”

“One was. The other...I don’t want to talk about.”

“So, you’re not as good as Pod?”

He felt his hackles rise at his sexual prowess being compared to the squire of Brienne of Tarth.  “Apparently not.”

“Maybe I should ask him...”

“You will not,” he insisted angrily.

“Why won’t I?”

“Arya...”

Arya frowned. “You’ve acted very strangely about this entire thing.  We’re friends, why can’t we talk about this and, if not you, then why do you have such a problem with me talking to Pod about it?”

“Because I don’t want you to get the bad idea to have him show you,” he blurted and immediately regretted it due to the look on her face.  He put his back to her and used a rag to clean off the head of his hammer and tried to control the anger that threatened to overtake him at the thought of the squire with Arya teaching her all the things that she shouldn’t learn from someone like him.  He didn’t hear her climb down from the bench, but suddenly she moved into his line of sight and made him stand up straight to look at her.

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask him to show me,” she whispered.

“You need to go,” he whispered, his eyes moved from her lips to her eyes and he knew that this was getting into a very dangerous territory.

“Why?” the softly whispered word was nearly enough to break his carefully constructed self-control.

“Because I’m going to get the bad idea to show you,” he said honestly, softly.

She shook her head and smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“Your brother would kill me,” he whispered.

“We won’t tell him,” she responded and took the hammer and rag from his hands and dropped them to the ground.

It was hard to breathe with her so close and the feel of her skin against his caused him to swallow thickly. It was unfair of her to taunt him so when he had so little control around her as it was. “Arya...” he warned but she was standing on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Just between us,” she whispered against his lips.  What little restraint he had just died a fiery death.  He cupped her face in his hands while hers moved over the broad expanse of his back. He backed her to the bench and she pulled him against her harder. His tongue swept against hers and she released a gasp at the same time she thrust her hips against his. He groaned against her mouth and she smiled against his lips.

The door to the forge opened slightly and someone called to someone else, springing Arya and Gendry away from one another.  He looked at the door as she moved back to her perch on the bench.  It looked to be Bronn and Podrick and Gendry balled his fists at his side for them causing all of this in the first place.

Podrick smiled at both of them, but Gendry couldn’t wipe the scowl from his face.  Arya smiled back at the squire which only caused Gendry to scowl harder, clenching his hammer in his fist and tried to convince himself that killing the unarmed squire would be murder and would require a lengthy explanation.  Instead, he lifted his hammer and banged it into the rock beside Arya, trying to get a piece he could work with.

Bronn entered behind Podrick and smiled.  “How many spears do you have made?”

“Ten,” he answered.  

“We need at least ten for each of the Scorpions,” he sighed and picked one up from the rack and examined the sharp tip. “These are well done,” Bronn said after a moment. “A lot of time in the forge?”

“My youth, Ser,” Gendry answered and Arya watched the sellsword.

“My lady,” he said as he nodded his head at her and she rolled her eyes. He wanted both Podrick and Bronn to get out of the forge as he planned to spend the next hour exploring Arya with mouth and fingers and more if she’d let him. Bronn’s words brought him out of such thoughts, though, and he glanced at Arya who seemed none too happy at the interruption either. “I heard you didn’t like being called a lady.”

Podrick interrupted before Bronn could start a fight with the younger Stark girl. “We came because Ser Jaime wanted to know how long it would take to get ten for each weapon?”

“A few days.”

“You have three days,” Bronn answered.  “We’ll have to get the Scorpions mounted and test each of them. After that, the dead will be here.”

Gendry sighed and nodded.  “I’ll work faster. The other smiths will be here soon to start work on the Scorpions.”

Bronn nodded.  “Good man,” he said and then turned to Arya. He looked between Arya and Gendry, then grinned broadly as he looked to Arya.  “What is a lady doing in the forge?”

Gendry turned his back to them as he began heating the steel. “I’m speaking with my friend.” He tried to act as if he was uninterested in the conversation, but the truth was he couldn’t stop listening if he wanted to.

“About the fine art of weapon making?” Bronn asked, clearly he didn’t accept her answer and Gendry thought about insisting they both leave. That would be a bit obvious, he thought, and so he remained quiet and turned back to face them.

Arya was having none of his blatant goading. “About how many throats I’ve slit,” Arya said flatly, and Gendry smirked to himself.

“I heard you were a ruthless killer.  Maybe you and I can compare notes one day on the finer points of killing a man.”

“Or I could show you the finest point I have,” she said as she showed him her knife.

Gendry was now watching her intently. Arya was deadlier than any person he knew, and if the sellsword rubbed her the wrong way she would kill him.  Bronn then chuckled.  “I like this girl.  I honestly believe she would kill me.”

Gendry moved closer to Arya and faced the sellsword and squire. “She would.”

Bronn smiled. “I think I need an ale.  Come along Pod.  Let’s see if you can get us a free night at the brothel in town,” he said as he ushered Podrick out of the forge.  

Arya suddenly turned her eyes to his. He waited for the door to shut before he stepped between her open legs and put calming hands on both of her knees, his eyes meeting hers. “I have a lot of weapons to make and I can’t have you in here distracting me.”

Gendry watched as she hesitated, her fingers slowly moving over the back of his hands and he shivered in response. Her whispered words only caused his cock to harden more for her, “But what about earlier? You’re not going to second guess that, are you?”

He heaved a sigh and knew that he wouldn’t deny her anything if she asked it of him, nor did he want to, but he did have work that had to be done. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers as he spoke, “Consider it a reward for when I’m finished.”

She smiled slowly and nodded. “I’ll find you,” she said as she hopped down from the bench and walked to the door of the forge.  Gendry leaned against the bench and tried to ignore the erection still straining against the front of his leathers. Her words echoed in his head as he could still feel the strength of her thighs beneath his hands.  He knew it without question: she was going to be the death of him.

*~*

When the sun started to rise, Gendry truly thought he was going to fall asleep at any moment. He was both mentally and physically exhausted. They’d managed one complete Scorpion and had installed it at the top of one of the towers.  Several men had carried up the heavy bolts while he made last minute adjustments to the wheel.

“Is it tight?” Gendry asked from where he was on his knees beneath the Scorpion.

“Aye,” the other called.

“It’s a fine piece of work,” Jaime said as he exited to the tower with Bronn. “Is it ready to test?”

Gendry stepped back as did the other man and held out one of the bolts. Bronn took it from him and slid everything into place. He watched him move the weapon up and down, swiveled it in every direction causing him a moment of panic as the great bolt pointed at his head before it moved away. When Bronn finally fired the weapon, the bolt sailed out to the outer edge of the farthest trench. Bronn and Jaime both looked at Gendry.

“I have to admit, I had my doubts that they could be made so quickly,” Jaime quipped. “This is good work.” Gendry didn’t say thank you. The Lannisters were the ones who sought his death all because his father, the philandering King Robert, got his mother pregnant. No other reason to want him dead. “How many bolts do you have made?”

“Twenty-two. We've had the apprentices working on them throughout the night. Most of the smiths and wood workers are making the Scorpions, though. I need to get back to the forge,” he said as he nodded at the other smith and they left Jaime and Bronn.

However, they weren’t free of them for long and Jaime stopped him once they were in the center of the courtyard. “I’ve heard that you’re one of Robert’s bastards.”

“Aye.”

Jaime was silent and then he continued, “You look like him when he was younger.”

Gendry rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’d be careful, my lord. There are a lot of people here who would gladly take your head.”

Jaime tilted his head at him, his eyes narrowing a bit. “Are you one of them?”

He smirked and taunted Jaime. “I don’t use a sword. I prefer a war hammer like my father. I’d simply bash it in,” he threatened.

A voice clearing caused them all to turn and see Arya, her hand on her sword. “Is there a problem?”

Gendry could feel Bronn looking at him with a smile and he nudged Jaime. “Ease off the boy. He’s worked through the night,” he cajoled. “You did good work, lad,” Bronn said as he began leading Jaime away from the youngest Stark girl and what she had clearly claimed as hers.

Gendry nodded to the other smith to go back to the forge and he turned to Arya. “I don’t need you to stick up for me.”

“I wasn’t. But if Jaime stepped out of line, I’d deliver his head to my sister as she wants,” Arya said as she stepped forward.

“Don’t do it on my account,” he said as he started walking back to the forge. “You’re up early.”

She stepped in front of him. “Trouble sleeping.”

“They make tea for that,” he responded.

“It’s your fault.”

His eyebrows rose in question. “How is it my fault?”

She stepped a little closer to him. “You see, ever since our conversation and the kiss, it’s all I can think about.” He turned away from looking at her to see how many people were watching them. He didn’t see any, so he stepped closer. “I think of you touching me, kissing me...and I’m incapable of sleep.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispered.

Her smile made him uneasy in the best way. “I like games.”

He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists at his side. “Arya.”

She tilted her head, her expression innocent. “You should really get to work. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll allow you to be distracted from me,” she said as she turned and left him in the courtyard alone. He grunted as he turned and walked back into the forge to see the pieces of the next Scorpion laid out on the floor.

“Three more. Three more,” he muttered. He looked out the window of the forge and saw her mount her horse and ride from the yard. Three more and then there is no excuse or reason for me not to have you .

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Daenerys stood at one of the small slits in the wall of Winterfell that counted as windows. Varys, Tyrion, Jorah, Messandei, and Greyworm all sat at the table of the solar her retinue had been given. Tyrion appeared to be drunk when he’d arrived. She didn’t exactly blame him. Nothing they had planned had happened the way they thought. She never thought that losing a dragon was a possibility. She never thought they would fight someone other than Cersei. She never thought that she would actually find a man in this world that she felt was her equal.

She smiled to herself as she thought about the rough Northman who’d been sharing her bed. He was every bit the wolf that the Stark family held so proud, but now that she knew the truth about him and who he was, she knew that he was as much a dragon. In every way Viserys had been weak, small-minded, and cruel, Jon was not. He would make a fine ruler for the kingdom.

“Ser Jaime doesn’t appear to have many friends in the North,” Messandei said to the room. “Is it possible he’s here for a reason other than what he said?”

Daenerys knew Tyrion would squash the idea before it fully manifested into thoughts. “My brother is honorable. He wouldn’t lie about this.”

She turned then to look at Tyrion. “Why wouldn’t he? You say he’s honorable but he killed a king, carried on an affair with his sister and fathered her children that they then passed off as Robert’s, and he pushed a boy from a window. How honorable is he?” Daenerys questioned.

Tyrion frowned. “We all make mistakes, your grace. Some are greater than others,” he responded.

She sighed. “It seems to me that his mistakes cost a lot of people their lives.”

“In a way, so have mine,” he said as he looked at her. “Had I not killed my father, my niece and nephew may still be alive. Cersei wouldn’t have power. How much did that one mistake cost us all?”

“Do you consider it a mistake?”

Tyrion looked at the table in front of him and shook his head. “No. I’d do it again, even with all I know now.”

“Then it’s not a mistake,” she said as she sat in the chair beside Messandei. “Bad things happen during wars. People die. It’s an unfortunate aspect that I don’t like. But if we’re going to right the world, to fix the injustices and save these people, then we can’t second guess ourselves.”

“And this new world we’re going to build,” Tyrion questioned, “will you be building that with Jon Snow. Excuse me, Aegon Targaryen.”

She nodded. “I will. He knows what I want, what I expect. And he respects me as his queen as I respect him as king.”

Tyrion looked down into his glass and took a sip of his wine. Jorah had stopped looking at her and she felt guilty. She hoped that Jorah hadn’t come back with the hope they would be together. She loved him, but not the way he did her. She feared to lose him. But she was in love with Jon and there was no doubt in her mind about that.

“Everyone, please give me a moment alone with our queen,” Tyrion requested. Once everyone was gone, Daenerys leaned back in her chair and frowned. “I am happy that you found someone who loves you like the king does.”

“But?”

“But nothing. I know all you suffered, what you endured to get to this point in your life. Every moment more incredible than the one before.”

“You’re really drunk aren’t you?” she questioned and he nodded. “Good. I think it’s high time you told me why you killed your father.”

He winced. “I don’t know that I’m that drunk,” he responded.

“I order you,” she said, though there was no bite or malice to her tone.

“And if I refuse?”

She smiled. “Why chance it?”

He drank down the rest of the wine in his goblet and then poured more. “My father hated me from the moment I was born. Made me feel like I was less of a Lannister because I was...less of a man,” he huffed out. “Cersei hated me because I killed our mother when I came into the world. And together, the two of them did everything they could to break me, to make me feel like the imp of Casterly Rock. They probably would have succeeded had Jaime not been there. Even when they were at their worst, he and I were brothers. He treated me like a brother, not a burden.” Tyrion swallowed a lump in his throat and continued to speak, though his voice broke more and more as he went on. “My father wanted me dead, but not enough to actually kill me. But when given the opportunity to do it, to have me publically executed and denounce me as his family, he took it. It didn’t matter what else happened, he was going to see me dead.”

Daenerys could see that this was painful, and she wanted him to stop. But she had to know why he’d turned on his family. She had to know why he’d really decided to come to her.

“Jaime released me. I simply went to tell my father I was leaving and he would never have to see me again. He’d always made me feel like less of a man because I sought the company of whores. Always made himself seem as if he was above it. And when I walked into his room and saw her, I realized I was more my father’s son than he ever wanted to admit. Shae turned on me. I loved her and sent her away for her own good so they wouldn’t kill her, and she turned me because of it. And there she was. In his bed, sleeping.” He took another sip of wine and held the goblet in his hand instead of letting it rest on the table. “I killed her, too.” At that, he drank down his wine again and she lifted the cask to pour him more and he smiled at her. “I killed my father because I hated him. I hated him because he was still my father and he would have rather seen me dead for a crime he knew I didn’t commit than to let me live with his name.”

They were both silent for a long moment and she sighed. “I smothered Drogo,” she said softly. “It was more for mercy. He would have hated how weak he was. But I still put a pillow over his face and ended his life,” she said softly. “I’ve burned countless people alive, had men crucified, and would do it all again the same way,” she said and reached for her own goblet of wine and drained the cup. "And after everything I've suffered, all the people who have died, that's the one I hated most," she whispered. "Even if it was for his own benefit."

“Maybe the two of us horrible children of horrible fathers were meant to find one another and fix this world together.”

She smiled and nodded. “I certainly hope so. Although, if the dead win, none of this matters.”

Tyrion looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry about Viscerion. I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you.”

She shook her head. “You told me not go. I didn’t listen.”

“You’d still do that over again?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I had to see it. You had to see it. The dead are our true enemy.”

“My sister is no slouch,” he answered. “What happens when we defeat the army of the dead? Do you believe Jon will ride South with you?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“What about his men?”

“I don’t know. I hope my willingness to fight for them could sway them to my side. But the North seems to not go by what I consider to be traditional standards.”

“You’re hardly traditional, your grace,” Tyrion said with a smile. “Maybe that’s what they will look towards when this has ended and Daenerys Targaryen, her armies, and her dragons have saved them all.”

She smiled. “I will rule the Seven Kingdoms. I will do it with Jon at my side and you as my Hand,” she said finally.

“Do you need me if you have him?” Tyrion questioned and she realized that any reservations he had about her and Jon were actually centered around his role. He’d been cast aside so many times in his life, that he probably thought her to be like everyone else.

She nodded with a smile. “Yes. You know me and my impulses. Jon seems to have similar impulses. I need you to temper us both.”

“A wolf and dragon? I don’t know how I’ll manage one, let alone both.”

“I have faith in you,” she said as she sipped at her wine. “I’m going to retire to my chamber. Don’t drink anymore,” she said as she stood and left the room.

She stepped into her room and smiled to see Ghost in front of the fire. “How did you get in here?” she asked and realized Jon was standing beside her window and looked at her, a smile on his face.

“Sorry, he follows me sometimes.”

She shook her head and removed the pin from her hair and moved to sit at her vanity. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” she said as she began removing the braids from her hair. “Your sister, Arya, is an impressive young woman,” she remarked as she felt the tension of the braids uncoil at the back of her head. They looked beautiful, but by nightfall, her head usually ached.

He sat at the edge of the bed and she could see he’d already removed his boots and there was something intimate about it that she couldn’t describe. He’d been in her room waiting for her, and he’d made himself comfortable. “Believe it or not I don’t think she’s changed all that much. She was always scrappy, now it appears she has the skills to go with her fighting spirit.”

Daenerys released the last braid and moved her fingers through her hair and felt him stand behind her. His calloused fingers along her neck caused her to shiver as she caught his eyes in the mirror and she already felt the familiar heat that seemed to coil in her belly whenever he looked at her. He moved to his knee beside her and smiled. She ran her fingers over his jaw and leaned her forehead against his. “Blood of my blood,” she whispered. She slid her fingers along his jaw and to where his curls were tied back from his face to remove the band that held them in place.  She kissed him then and he pulled her to the edge of her seat to move between her parted thighs.

She helped him remove his heavy doublet and then the black shirt beneath it. Daenerys sighed while she traced over the scar at his chest and frowned. “I sometimes wonder how we both managed to get here,” she said softly and her eyes met his. “We should both be dead. Yet, here we are together, ready to take on the coming night,” she said with a sigh.

She felt his hands at the laces of her coat and his lips danced along her throat. “I’m not going to question it. Someone might get the notion to take you away from me.” She shrugged out of the coat and he helped her out of dress as she stood to let it pool at her feet. Her boots were last and his lips moved over her hips to her belly. Her fingers danced through his hair and bit her bottom lip, containing a moan as he flicked his tongue out to taste her folds.

“Jon,” she moaned, his hands sliding up from her calves and the back of her knees. She thought she would collapse at the tickle of his fingers along her skin. He pushed back on her and she was seated on the chair once more. He brought her thigh over his shoulder and bit and nipped at the soft skin. He pushed her back until she could clearly see his eyes as his tongue flicked out against her. Her body bowed against him, seeking more pressure, more of everything. His hands held her down, though, not letting her move her hips to get what she wanted. She fisted her hands in his hair and panted his name even as she felt his tongue dip into her cunt, lapping at her need for him.

Love comes in at the eyes . Said years ago to her, about someone different, but she knew she loved him simply by the look in his eyes. She panted his name and he released her hips to remove his pants and she ached to have him inside her. If she was capable of words, she would have told him, but when he sucked her clit into his mouth everything flew from her head but the need to reach her climax. She fell over the edge when she realized he was touching himself.  His name fell from her lips on a long moan, and if she was capable, she would have worried that everyone in the tower would know what they were doing. As it was, all she could think about was the man between her thighs lapping at her cunt. She pushed him back and crawled into his arms, her mouth taking his in a long kiss. When he’d first done this, the first man to ever do this, she thought she wouldn’t want his kiss afterward. She’d been wrong. All she wanted for the rest of her life was to taste herself on his tongue. Her wolf and dragon. He was both. He was everything.

*~*

In the early morning hours, Daenerys stirred and reached out for Jon but found the bed beside her empty. She lifted her head and turned to see him fully dressed and pulling on his boots. He had obviously relit the fire and she could see the form of Ghost sleeping in front of it.  She looked to the window to see that the sun wasn’t up. “What are you doing?”

He looked up at the sound of her voice and moved to sit beside her on the bed once he’d pulled his other boot on. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said and brushed her hair from her face.

“Well, you did so you have to stay,” she whispered and pulled him against her, kissing his lips as he smiled.

He broke the kiss, laced his fingers with hers and then brought them up to his lips to kiss. “You won’t sleep if I’m pacing around the room.”  She tilted her head at him and he frowned. “I’m worried,” he answered. “And sleep seems like something that’s foreign to me at this point.”  His voice was little more than a whisper, but she heard the anxious tone and she wished she could make it disappear.

She leaned her forehead against his and smiled. “I could distract you.”

He chuckled and nodded. “You do. Very well, I might add,” he said kissing her again.

“Who will warm my bed if you go wandering through the castle?”

He turned and looked at the floor. “Ghost,” he called and the giant wolf moved from his spot by the fire to take up the empty place beside Daenerys.  

She reached out to pet the great beast and his tongue lolled out as she stroked her fingers through his fur.  He sniffed her hand and then moved to lay on the bed beside her, filling the space Jon had abandoned.  “This is much better,” she smiled and teased Jon. “He snores less than you.”

He furrowed his brow, a smile on his face. “I should feel offended that I’m so easily replaced.”

Her eyes met his again and she brought his lips to hers, her tongue slipped out to taste his lips and he growled against her. She pulled back from his kiss but kept her forehead against his and rubbed his nose with hers. “No one could ever take your place,” she whispered. “Not now.”

“Nor yours,” he whispered. “I’ll be back soon.” He looked to the direwolf currently occupying his pillow.  “And I’ll have my place back,” he said to the wolf that made a noise that almost sounded as a scoff. “You’ve already bewitched my wolf.”

She moved her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and brushed her lips against his. “You’ve bewitched me. Is that a fair trade?”

He smiled. “Aye. I’ll find some way to live with that,” he teased.

He kissed him again, never able to have her fill of him. “Don’t be gone long.”

He placed a lingering kiss on her lips and he stood, donned his cloak, and took Longclaw with him.  The door thudded closed behind him and she looked over at the great wolf which was now taking up even a portion of her side of the bed.  “You have to learn to share the bed,” she said to the wolf which moved his paws to allow her to lie down.  She moved a hand through his fur and lay down on the pillow, his red eyes staring into her own.  She felt almost as if her soul was being weighed. “You’re considerate. Just like Jon,” she said softly.  Her hand continued to rub over his fur as she closed her eyes, letting sleep take her once more.

Chapter Text

SANSA

Sansa moved into the hall and stopped at the table that had been placed in the middle with a large map spread out. It was still early, the gray light of dawn hardly illuminating the room. On the table, there were small wooden pieces scattered over the North of the map. Dragons, wolves, lions, horses, and bears all surrounding the Northern wall of Winterfell.  Two large black rings cut through the earth around the keep.  

One of the dragon figures was placed before the front ring, another in the middle with the wolves and lions near the gates.  Daenerys’ forces were obviously the first line of defense leaving the Northmen and the small contingent of Lannister forces to defend the walls of the keep.  Looking at it now made it all the more real.  War was once more coming to the gates of Winterfell.  

“It’s a clever plan.”  She turned to see Jaime standing in the doorway, his armor removed and left only in his doublet.  He looked much smaller without all the metal.  Not like the knight that commanded so much attention from the others.  “I wish I could say it had been mine.”

“Maybe you’re not as valuable as they thought,” she said meanly. She’d been cautioned by everyone in Winterfell to not be so harsh to him. The North remembered. Even if everyone else chose to forget what had happened, Sansa didn’t. People forgetting the sins of others is what had led to the downfall of her family in the first place. Trusting others who sought their ruin had caused her mother and brother to die, caused her marriage to Ramsay. She couldn’t forget so easily.  

He frowned. “Remember, it wasn’t I who thought I was valuable.”

“Tyrion would never allow them to kill you. He’s a lot of things, but one thing I’ve always known about him is that he loved you. Whether you deserve his faith in you or not is up for debate.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “He killed my father.”

“And your son killed mine. Your family’s clever little plans killed my father, my mother, and my brother. You nearly killed my little brother. Should I forget all of that because you finally learned how to stand up to Cersei?" She could feel the angry fire in her belly that nearly consumed her whenever he was present. "What did it finally take for you to realize the sort of monster you’ve protected your entire life?”

He took several steps forward and was nearly in her face. “She backed out of her promise for aid. And she threatened to kill me.”

“She’s threatened to kill a lot of people.  And she’s carried through on those threats." She'd threatened to have her killed, even thought to send Jaime after her. Jaime had sent Brienne to find and protect her. Still, if Cersei had really demanded it, Sansa doubted as to whether or not she would still be alive. "What did you do when she blew up the Sept of Baelor? Did you question her? Did you chastise her for killing all of those people?” His jaw tightened as he looked away and didn't answer, once more confirming what she thought of him. She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t. You bit your tongue and let others suffer for her. For your dearest love," she mocked. "How many people died?”

She could see the muscle in his jaw tick as he tilted his head. She wondered if he even thought of the loss of life. She wondered if he was capable of thinking about anything or anyone besides himself. “They were people plotting our downfall...”

“People she put into power to rid herself of Margaery or hadn’t you thought of that? The beautiful, young, vibrant queen that was beloved by the people against your sister who the people despised. And they should. She would lock herself into her castle and pretend that none of this is happening!” Sansa nearly shouted at him. “And you’ve protected her!  You’ve helped her get to where she is!  How could you do that?” she hissed. “How could you turn a blind eye to all that she did?”

Jaime’s shoulders sagged and he lowered his head and whispered, “I had to. I-I loved her. I would have done anything to protect her and...she still tried to have me killed. She’s too far gone for any of us to save.” He frowned and moved over to the fire. “I didn’t know about the Sept until after. When I got back to King’s Landing it was a burning ruin and she was being crowned queen,” he answered. “She didn’t even have the decency to tell me about Tommen. One of the guards...”

Sansa considered what he said. Her hatred for Cersei burned in her chest and she wanted her dead more than she wanted anything. She wondered if maybe Jaime wanted that as well. “Why are you here?”

He turned to look at her and he looked defeated. Sansa almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “I gave my word to your brother and the queen. I haven’t had much opportunity to keep my word in the past. Oathbreaker. Man Without Honor. If the world is going to end, I’d like to think that I could change that before I die.”

She turned back to the map on the table and looked at the pieces. It seemed a good plan, that the dead would have a lot they would have to overcome it they were going to take the keep. Moats of fire around Winterfell. She only hoped that the great keep was kept from burning once more. The thought of fire made her think of the Wildfire in Blackwater Bay and the tragic mistake she made by not leaving with the Hound that night. She looked at the map and couldn't see where Sandor was placed. “In this scenario of the battle, where do you have the Hound?”

“Outside the walls with us,” he answered and moved over to her to look at the map.

“That’s stupid,” she said as she looked at the map. “He’s afraid of fire. Paralyzed by it. Have him inside the walls with Arya and Northmen and Brienne outside on the field with you.”

“Brienne is to stay with you,” he answered, both of them knowing that Brienne kept her vows and would give her life to protect Sansa or Arya's lives.

“Leave Pod with me. You need Brienne,” she answered. At his look, she huffed out a breath. “She defeated the Hound. You need skilled swords like hers on the field. Literally, her sword. As you said, it's Valyrian steel.”

“Brienne won’t like that,” Jaime argued, his friendship with the lady warrior let him know that much.

Sansa looked over at him and then back at the table. “She is my protector. She can better protect me on the field than inside a room where her skills are wasted.” After a moment she spoke again. “I’ll convince her.”

They were silent for a moment, both staring down at the table and his heavy sigh caused her to glance at him.  “I’m...sorry, truly sorry, about your mother,” he said, not looking at her. “She released me to get you back.”

“You did a splendid job,” she said flatly.

He frowned, clearly frustrated that even a simple gesture such as his condolences for the death of her mother was brushed aside so easily. “As I said, my family ignored me unless I had something they wanted or needed. I’m glad Brienne found you,” he said after a moment. “She’s the most honorable person I know.”

She nodded. “I agree. You could learn a lot from her.”

“I have.”

“She believes in you, for some reason. A lot of people do,” she said as she turned to face him. “Don’t disappoint them,” she said as she turned to leave the room.

“What about you?” He asked softly. 

She turned to slowly face him. “I couldn’t have a lower opinion of you. Surprise me,” she said before she turned and left the room. Her heart was racing as she made her way back to her room and closed the door behind her. Her hands were shaking as well and she moved to the chair over by the hearth and sat down, wondering what was happening to her and why Jaime Lannister had to be the one to get an emotional reaction from her, whether it was anger or not.  

Chapter Text

JAIME

Bronn stood beside Jaime on the rampart of Winterfell as they both looked at the Dothraki tents. He was unsure if he could call Bronn his friend, but at this point, he was all he had.  “I’m going to suggest we put the Hound inside the courtyard.  He hates fire.”

“If you had your head shoved into a fire, you’d hate it, too.” After a moment he frowned. “It’s a good idea. I suppose I’m your protector on the field.”

“Brienne will be with us.”

He nodded. “I don’t exactly see her agreeing to that considering she’s sworn to protect the Stark girls.”

“Sansa will convince her.”

Bronn looked over at Jaime and then back out at the field. “ Sansa ? Had many conversations with her?”

“A few,” he answered before he stood up straight, uncomfortable with Bronn’s questioning.  

“Oh? When? I’m with you most of the day.”

“Why is that exactly?”

Bronn rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this, the only person that gets to kill you is me because your job if we live is to make sure I get a nice fucking castle where I can grow old and have pretty ladies come in and suck my cock for the rest of my life.”

Jaime shook his head. “It’s amazing. We’re standing on the brink of war with death itself and all you can think of is where you’re going to put your cock at the end of it all.”

He shrugged. “At least I know what I’m fighting for. Why the fuck are you here?”

“I made a promise.”

“Yes, you did. Sort of. Cersei made a promise and backed out, which is exactly what everyone should have expected.”

He frowned. “I put too much faith in her for too long.”

“Took this long to realize that?”

He shook his head and sighed. “No, I worked that out myself when she threatened to have me killed.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a threat. She was going to have you killed. Maybe she loved you enough not to want to watch you die, but she wants you dead. Just like your brother.”

“It’s worse than Tyrion. I allowed horrible things to happen to people because I was content to watch the world burn if it meant I was with her. She killed a thousand people when she blew up the Sept and she never even flinched when telling me why. The loss of life meant nothing to her,” he said, still amazed. People dying had always been an abstract thing.  But he’d killed a king to keep him from blowing up the city.  Why could he not do the same thing now? She was even more dangerous than ever, and he still couldn’t stop her.

“The loss of life has always meant nothing to her if you ask the right people,” Bronn responded. People do shit things for the people they love all the time. Not on such a grand scale like you, though.”

“How many people have died because I couldn’t stop her, by choice or force?”

“A lot,” Bronn replied. “But, you’re here now, so maybe that fucking means something.”

Jaime frowned and his shoulders sagged and looked across the yard where Sansa stood speaking with Lord Royce as it began to snow again. “I fucking hate the North,” he said after a moment. “The people are hard, their memories long and unforgiving, and the weather is shit.”

“The women are always warm,” he said as he looked over at Jaime with a smile. “So, there’s that.”

“Not all the women,” he answered, staring at Sansa who seemed oblivious to them. Jaime realized Bronn had seen him staring at Sansa and he turned his attention away as he started for the stairs that led down to the courtyard.

“ How much time have you been spending with the Lady of Winterfell?”

“Enough to know that she’d put my head in a box and send it to Cersei,” he replied.

Bronn smirked. “You wanna fuck that Stark girl.”

Jaime turned on the stair to look at Bronn and took a deep breath. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I did. Doesn’t mean you don’t want to fuck her. Seems the Lannister men have something in common when it comes to her.”

Jaime continued down the stairs, deciding to ignore Bronn’s comment about Sansa. He wouldn’t entertain it. She hated him. He wasn’t overly fond of her and her cold words. “Tyrion is too distracted by his own ambition at the moment.”

Bronn smiled over at Jaime. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Shut up,” he said as he glanced up again and found her watching him, this time. She turned back to Lord Royce and continued her conversation. Bronn shoved him in the back and withdrew his sword.  

“Make me.”

Jaime frowned. “I’m not fighting you right now.”

“Why not?  Because she’s watching?  You don’t want to make a fool of yourself?” Jaime clenched his jaw and withdrew his sword and took his stance. When Bronn lunged, he used the opportunity to punch him. Bronn rubbed his jaw. “If you knock out one of my fucking teeth, I’ll send your head back to Cersei.”

Their swords clashed and Jaime pushed off and evaded Bronn’s drive towards his abdomen and he dropped his stance. “I’m not wearing armor,” he reminded.

Bronn spit blood to the ground and smiled. “Then don’t let me kill you.”

He watched as Sansa turned from watching them and went back to the keep. He knew he should kill the sellsword on the ground for suggesting that he wanted anything to do with the cold Lady of Winterfell. He stayed his hand because a part of him knew he was right. She didn’t thank him for coming North and telling them about Cersei. She was the only one who didn’t seem to want his help or him there fighting with them. It was infuriating.

Women usually threw themselves at him. He’d never been interested, solely fixed on his love for Cersei. And though she was carrying his child, he knew he’d never see her again, and whatever was between them was gone. She destroyed any chance of it when she nodded to the Mountain. Had he hesitated he wondered if she would have actually had him killed. Sansa wasn’t Cersei, though. He glanced at Bronn who was smiling at him expectantly. “You fancy Lords and your complicated women,” he said with a shake of his head. “Careful, that one managed to outmaneuver everyone in King’s Landing and in Winterfell. You piss her off, and she will send your head back to Cersei in a box.”

“I have no interest in Sansa Stark.”

“Right,” Bronn said with a roll of his eyes. “And I’m the Mother of Dragons. It’s been my experience that you don’t have to like someone to fuck them. Sometimes, that makes the sex better. Just hard and angry. I do like a good, angry fuck.”

Jaime sheathed his sword and frowned. “It really is all cocks with you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, the most important being mine. So, don’t do anything to the Stark girl that she doesn’t want,” he said with a smirk. "Cause I don't fancy her removing both of ours and sending them to your sister. I don't deserve that sort of punishment."

Chapter Text

JON

He looked out over the field and felt a sense of both relief and dread. It was amazing to behold; Dothraki, Unsullied, and Northmen working together to dig trenches. Davos was at his side and Winterfell sat against the wintry backdrop of the North.

“How did we get here, Davos?” Jon asked, and heaved a sigh.

“Well, your grace, I think it all started when you died,” he said softly.

He looked over at the older man and frowned. “Not my favorite memory.”

“I can see why it isn’t. But you took back the North and then went south to talk to the dragon queen about using her armies and her dragonglass.”

He shook his head. “I hated her when I first met her.” Davos made a scoffing sound and Jon frowned. “What?”

“Hated her?” He shook his head. “You may have been frustrated with her, I know I was, but you didn’t hate her.” He clapped Jon on the back and smiled. “No, boy, you’ve been gone since the second she apologized for what happened to your grandfather and uncle.” He looked around at the field while Davos continued. “It seems fate, now, that you went and got to know her before you knew of your parentage. I doubt she would have been hospitable to someone with a better claim to the throne than her.”

“Thrones.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “That seems to be all anyone can think about. Cersei, Tyrion, Jaime, Sansa...”

“Daenerys is not in the same field as them. She wants the crown and the throne, yes, but she’s postponed that because she sees the real threat. The dead may make fools of us all,” he answered coldly.

“I’ll never forget the sound of that dragon dying,” he said softly. “And his brothers screaming. I felt that same pain inside when Robb died and when I saw Rickon die.” He shook his head and frowned. “I wanted to beat Ramsay to death.”

“You almost did. Why did you stop?”

He sighed. “Sansa. His fate was hers to decide.”

“Decide she did. Death from dogs is a brutal death for someone so despicable, but maybe not brutal enough.”

“Child’s play compared to what she probably endured at his hands.” They steered their horses back to the castle and he looked at Davos. “Daenerys wants us to rule the kingdom as equals.”

“How would that work?” he asked.

He shook his head. “Something about giving the people more of a voice. She wants to help people, Davos.”

“So do you. You’re well suited.”

“Aye, but I don’t want to be king.”

“That’s why you’re the right king,” Davos said and sighed. “I followed Stannis for a long time, and he never questioned whether he had a right to the throne and was willing to do anything and hurt anyone to get it. All you want is to protect your people. You don’t feel it’s divine providence to rule...”

“Daenerys does. She believes it’s my right as much as hers.”

“Maybe that’s all you need, though. One person, an important one, to believe that it’s yours. And if she’s willing to share power then perhaps she’s the queen you need at your side.”

“We haven’t discussed it fully, but I’m sure we’ll get married.”

Davos was silent for a moment. “Do you want to marry her?”

“Not for any noble reasons,” Jon asserted. “Selfish ones.”

They entered the gates of Winterfell and climbed from their horses. They handed off their reigns to a waiting stable boy and Davos waited until they were gone. “You’ve done a lot of selfless things since I’ve met you. Some damn foolish ones, as well. I think you deserve one selfish act.” He frowned. “I saw you come back from the dead and in the hours after. You wanted relief from the hard life you’d been living. You wanted to be free of the shit this world was going to rain down. But, you’re here. You took back Winterfell. The hard men of the North chose you as their king. You went and met with Daenerys and Cersei Lannister when everything in you told you that it was a bad idea, as was going beyond the wall in the first place. I don’t think anyone would fault you for taking the one bit of happiness you’ve managed to find in this world.”

Jon looked around the keep and noticed Gendry at the top of one of the towers installing the second Scorpion. “He’s a damn fine smith. Pretty damn good with that war hammer of his.”

“He’s a good lad. Stannis was going to kill him simply because he had the misfortune of being Robert’s bastard. Nearly lost my life by releasing him.”

Jon looked over at Davos and smiled. “You didn’t. You’re here. So is he.”

“He seems to have an affinity for your sister,” Davos said as they walked back to the hall. “At least, some of the other men have been saying that.”

Jon stopped walking and frowned. “What are they saying?”

“You’re better off not knowing what pigs think of a lady, your grace.”

“I’ll not have them besmirch her. Are they saying he’s taken advances towards her?”

Davos shook his head. “Quite the opposite, your grace. She’s the one that’s been advancing on him.”

Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose and felt like vomiting. Nothing Davos had just told him had come as a surprise, but it was still his little sister. “I think she loves him.”

“Seems to be in the air,” Davos said with a smile. “I have confidence that if young Gendry put a hand on her in any way that she didn’t like, he wouldn’t be alive.”

“That’s what worries me, Davos,” he said as they continued into the hall. He found Jaime standing over the map of the battle. He looked at Davos and said softly, “Give me a moment with Ser Jaime.”

“Of course,” he said as he left the hall.  Moved over to the table and looked at the map. “The trenches are coming along quickly since the Dothraki and the Unsullied have begun helping. The Pitch from White Harbor has also arrived.

Jaime looked up at Jon. “Not your first battle?”

Jon scoffed. “I faced Ramsay Bolton on the field a little over a year ago outside these gates.”

“I heard he was fed to dogs.”

“That is what Sansa decided his fate should be,” Jon answered. “He deserved worse.”

“Fed to dogs is pretty horrible death.”

He shrugged. “He killed my brother in front of me. Taunted me about raping my sister, allowing his men to rape my sister. He took my family home. He tortured Sansa. She was more merciful than some people would be.”

“I don’t judge your sister for how she decided the monster torturing her should die,” he said softly. “She’ll be the Lady of Winterfell when you march south. And you’re the true heir to the throne. How did you discover this?”

“A long, complicated story,” he answered.

Jaime was silent for a moment and then sighed. “I knew Rhaegar. I was the youngest King’s Guard member ever. And Rhaegar was the prince. I liked him.”

“Yet you killed his father,” Jon said softly. “I’ve always wondered why.”

“Do you know of Wildfire?” Jon nodded. “The Mad King had stores of it beneath the city. When he locked the gates and found out that Robert’s men were outside, he started screaming ‘Burn them all’. He meant to light the city on fire, believing he was a dragon and couldn’t be burned. He was going to kill a million people in his madness and I couldn’t let him do it. I knew if he died all of it stopped. All the fighting, all the death...I didn’t see another choice.”

“Is that how Cersei blew up the Sept? Wildfire beneath it?” Jon questioned. At Jaime’s frown, Jon shook his head. “I suppose asking you to fight against her would be too much?”

Jaime looked at the map and frowned. “One war at a time,” he said softly.

Jon didn’t know what he would do if faced with killing one of his sisters or even Daenerys. If it saved thousands of people’s lives, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make the choice put before Jaime. Instead, he decided to talk about a different subject, one in which he had no knowledge about. “You knew Rhaegar? What was he like?”

Jaime looked over at Jon and smirked. “He was an amazing fighter but hated every second of it. He just wanted to sing and fuck.”

“Sing?” Jon questioned.

Jaime laughed. “He had silver harp he would carry out into the city and sing to people. Ser Barristan would come back and brag about how much his grace had made that evening and how much the people seemed to love him.” He shook his head. “And they did. The people loved him. He would have been a good king. He was obsessed with the Prince who was Promised, convinced that his son would be the one.”

“I don’t believe in prophecies,” Jon said plainly. “How many people have died because of them?”

“A lot. But your father didn’t want to kill people. He wanted to protect people. I don’t know how he managed to run away with Lyanna Stark and no one but Ser Arthur Dayne knew...but it severed this world. Aeyrs was already mad, before that, but Rhaegar leaving with Lyanna and then your grandfather and uncle coming to...I don’t believe Rhaegar ever thought all that transpired would.”

Jon thought on what Jaime had said and felt no affection towards Rhaegar. Instead, his father hadn’t changed simply because the truth had finally been revealed. “Ned Stark was my father. The man who raised me to understand what honor and loyalty are. I don’t know Rhaegar. I was simply curious as to what he was like.”

Jaime sighed. “I may be one of the last living people who knew him. Not even Queen Daenerys met him. She has his fight, though. When he found a cause nothing could shake it.”

“Obviously,” Jon answered with a sad smile. “She’s determined. And she has dragons.”

“I faced off against her in the field as she rode that dragon and broke our line, the Dothraki behind her. I’ve been in battles, I don’t know that I’ve ever been as afraid.”

“You charged at her with a spear,” Jon asserted.

“And I nearly paid with my life. I wanted it to end,” he said as he looked down at the table. “A high born fool trying to end the entire war with a spear and hope,” he shook his head.

“Luckily, you both failed to kill one another.”

“I can’t imagine what would have happened if she wasn’t here to control the dragons.”

Jon frowned. “Let’s hope we don’t find out.”

Jaime sighed. “You’re going to marry her, then?”

He faced Jaime and nodded. “Yes. If she’ll have me.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and Jon looked indignant. “Apologies. Any fool could see that she’d have you. I realized it when we were discussing my life in the solar. You’re both too obvious.”

Jon shrugged. “I don’t feel much need to hide it,” he said softly.

“Then don’t.” He looked at the floor. “People in your position shouldn’t worry about what other people think of certain aspects of their lives. If you’re going to rule, then you can’t worry about it. Having the support of the people is important, but so is knowing what you need to do and carrying that out.”

Someone else entered the room and they both turned to see Sam. Jon gave his friend a smile and he turned back to Jaime. “We’ll speak later,” he said and Jaime gave him a nod before leaving the room.

“You’re going to marry her?” Sam asked. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

Jon gripped the hilt of Longclaw with both hands, having the sword at his side seemed to give him strength at times. “Should we defeat the dead, I think that is the plan.”

“She killed my father and brother,” he said sadly. “My father is not much of a loss, to me. I mean, I wanted his approval, but he was a hard man.” He frowned. “My brother was not. And she burned both of them alive.”

Jon felt a knot between his shoulders and wondered how he was going to comfort his friend. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Do you agree with her decision?”

He shook his head. “I can’t say whether I do or don’t. I wasn’t there.”

“That’s an easy way to escape hurting either of us.”

“I don’t want you, my friend, to hurt. I don’t want her, my...”

“Lover?”

Jon pursed his lips together and shrugged. “Your father and brother met her in a battle. They had been sworn to House Tyrell and betrayed them. The punishment for being a traitor is death, I know, I paid that price,” Jon said softly. “And she did give them a choice.”

“What choice? Death or kneel?”

“Sam...”

“Would you have done the same thing?”

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“Then how can you defend her?”

Jon frowned. “I can still care about her, still fight beside her, because I know she’s willing to fight for me. I don’t have enough men in the North to take on the fight that’s coming. You know that. With her armies, her dragons, we have a chance to kill all the dead. She came and saved my life when she didn’t have to, when she was counseled against it. It would be easy to paint her as a monster. But I’ve seen her save people from monsters.” He sighed. “And we need someone else besides us who believes in this cause.”

Sam looked at the floor. “I understand, Jon. I do. It’s simply hard to wrap my head around how my brother died. He didn’t deserve that.”

Jon shook his head. “I’ve lost brothers, Sam. My own brothers and brothers of the Night’s Watch. None of it ever seems fair.”

“I’m going to be on the field fighting...”

“Sam, you’re not...”

“I’ll be there. I can’t fight well, but I can use a torch to light those that fall. We can’t allow him to raise more.”

Jon furrowed his brow and turned back to the map. “I hadn’t considered that. Anyone that falls...he could use them against us. Raise them.” He put both hands on the edge of the table and closed his eyes. “We’ll need to tell everyone to burn the dead, immediately. Men with torches on the field...” Jon looked over at Sam and smiled. “Look at that, you contributed in a great way to the Battle. You never thought that would happen.”

Sam smiled and shook his head. “No. I didn’t.”

He shook his head. “But I don’t want you on the field. I want you to protect Bran. He hardly leaves the Godswood, and I’m afraid he won’t stay inside the keep with Sansa. I would ask my Brother of the Night’s Watch protect my brother of blood.”

The other man smiled after a moment. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect him,” he said and Jon stepped forward and hugged Sam.

“I am sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you, Jon.” He stepped back and looked at him. “Or is Aegon? Which do you want?”

He smiled. “Jon. I prefer Jon.”

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Jon hadn’t returned to the chamber that morning, and instead, she found him in the hall looking over the map as others broke their fast.  He was explaining the plan to Tormund when Jaime entered the hall.  Daenerys moved to the head table and sat beside Sansa. The other girl only glanced at Jaime as she turned back to her food.  She understood Sansa’s issues with Jaime. It was the same one she had that nearly threatened to take her over. Loyalty to family.

She was also loyal to her hand. She never met her father. She knew what he was, though. If the stories of the Mad King were, in fact, true, then Jaime Lannister saved hundreds of thousands of people. The Kingslayer, they called him. “Your grace, I had something come to my attention of our plan last night. Sandor needs to be inside the keep, or at least inside the walls.”

Jon straightened and Daenerys tilted her head, wondering where this revelation had come from and why. “Why is that?” Daenerys asked.

“The Hound fears fire,” he said as he glanced up at Daenerys, and then turned his eyes momentarily to Sansa and back to the table.  She looked over at Sansa and wondered what the look that passed between them was. “He freezes up around it. It is the reason he abandoned the fight at King’s Landing. We keep him as far from the fire as we can and he’s a better warrior for it.”

“That leaves you with one less warrior fighting beside you.  One less skilled warrior, that is,” Tyrion supplied.

He shook his head. “If you would, I’d have Brienne beside me. Podrick can protect Lady Sansa...”

“I will not,” Brienne said as stood from her spot beside Sansa. “My duty is to Sansa and Arya.”

“Arya will be in the courtyard. If you want to protect her, you’ll need to be outside the walls keeping anything from getting inside. At that point, Arya, Gendry, The Hound and a contingent of soldiers will be defending the Keep.  But as you said,” he turned to Tyrion then Jon.  “We need skilled fighters outside the walls.”

Sansa stood slowly, her hands folded in front of her as she seemed to weigh his words. When she spoke, her words took Daenerys by surprise. “I agree. Brienne should be defending the keep from the outside. You have a Valyrian steel sword,” she explained as she looked to a protesting Brienne. “It should be on the field, not guarding me in a room. I’ll be safe with Podrick.”

The room was silent as several people took in what was happening. Sansa Stark had just agreed with something Jaime Lannister had said. Daenerys’ eyes caught Jon’s and he seemed as confused as she but he could see the benefit of what was being proposed. Daenerys stood and moved to look at the table, and then turned to Brienne. “It’s your duty to protect the Stark ladies, Lady Brienne. I will defer to you on how that should be handled,” she said as she looked at the lady knight.  

Brienne looked at Sansa, a frown on her face. “My Lady, are you sure?”

Sansa nodded. “Yes. You’re too good of a fighter to contain you in a room to protect me from something that might try to attack us. With your skills as a sword fighter, I would feel safer with you outside the walls. You’ve been training Podrick, I trust that you’ve taught him well.”

She could feel Jon watching her and she glanced at him, both of them obviously thinking the same thing: this was arranged. Lady Brienne looked torn, but she nodded at Sansa and then looked to Daenerys and Jon. “I’ll go where my lady commands.”

Daenerys noticed Jaime glance at Sansa before he turned back to the map. Sansa went back to eating and reading over a raven that had been sent from the Citadel. She seemed wholly unaffected by the conversation that had just been had until she’d glanced at Jaime, a slight smile on her face before she schooled her features once more to indifference.

She looked at Tyrion who was pouring over one of the books Samwell Tarly had brought with him from the Citadel. Jon had tried to smooth things over with his brother of the Night’s Watch, to little avail. The death of his brother seemed to be the real sticking point. She had apologized for his loss, but not for what she did. And she wouldn’t. They were at war. The fact that the young man had been so stubborn was a fault of his own. But faced with the pain of Sam’s face and the obvious disappointment when he realized that Jon wasn’t going to denounce her, she did feel bad for it. The problem was, faced with the same situation, she would make the same choice.

“Anything helpful?” She questioned and Tyrion looked up at her and shook his head.

“Mentions of Azor Ahai and how he acquired his flaming sword leave a lot to be desired.”

Daenerys nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard the story. He plunged his sword into the chest of his wife.”

“Let’s not have that happen,” he said lowly. “Not that I think he would, but should it look as if it’s coming to that...fly off on your dragons for the other side of the world.”

“I won’t run away, Tyrion. You at least know that much about me, don’t you?”

He frowned and nodded. “I do, your grace. It’s one of your best assets, and possibly your greatest flaw.”

“I intend to survive this war,” she said, finally. “Don’t give up hope.”

He shook his head. “Can’t really give up something I didn’t have much of, to begin with.”

She smiled and looked up as Arya entered the hall, her eyes scanning the tables obviously looking for someone. Seeing the disappointment on her face at not seeing Gendry's blue eyes caused Daenerys to look for the familiar dark eyes of her own lover. Jon sat beside her and she turned to look at him. “You didn’t come back,” she said softly.

He heaved a sigh and looked at her. “I walked the field. The sun was rising before I knew it.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone,” she reminded him. She wanted him to let her in, to let her help him. If they were going to be equals on the Iron Throne, they needed to be equals everywhere.

He tilted his head at her and then gave a weak smile. “Apologies. I’ve been carrying it alone for so long, I don’t know any other way.”

She smiled, then.  “I’ll teach you.”

He looked at his goblet and said into his cup, so only she could hear. “I do love to learn from you.”

She grinned and shook her head. “Why Jon Snow, whatever do you mean?”

Tyrion looked up from his reading at them. “If you don’t mind, some of us are still trying to eat,” he said making a point of taking a bite of bacon.

Daenerys smiled at her hand and then her thoughts turned to war. Too soon, the ability to smile could be taken from them. They could all be killed or she could lose the man she loved. The people she had come to love. Jorah, Grey Worm, even Tyrion if things got terribly bad. Jon’s sisters and brother could fall. Her dragons. Losing all three was nearly enough to cause her tears, but she didn’t let the thought settle for long. She wouldn’t stop fighting. She wouldn’t give up hope.

She looked over at Sansa who appeared to be engrossed in correspondence from elsewhere in the large country. “Any good news, my lady?” Daenerys asked.

Sansa frowned. “Cersei has asked us to send her Jaime’s head and have you and the ‘bastard imposter in the North’ surrender to her.”

Daenerys scoffed. “She’s truly mad.”

“It’s posturing. Either way, she has to know she loses this war,” Tyrion remarked

“The Gold Company could change things. That’s a lot of men. And elephants,” Daenerys said, having heard tales of the Gold Company from Jorah.

“You have dragons, the Unsullied, and Dothraki. I’ll take my chances with the queen my brother chose,” Sansa said giving her a small smile. She didn’t know why, but Sansa’s faith in her warmed her.

“Lady Sansa, I’m going to check on my dragons. Would you and Lady Brienne kindly escort me?” Jon looked over at her, a questioning look on his brow. She put a reassuring hand on his arm and a small smile, then turned to see Sansa and Brienne rise from their chairs. Daenerys walked beside Sansa, several of the men looking at them critically. “I fear I’ll never have the full support of the North.”

“I wouldn’t say that, your grace. Fight for them, win for them, and they’ll follow you to the end of the world.”

“I intend to do both, my lady,” she said and they both looked up at Rhaegal as he flew overhead. “He’s suffered a great loss. He mourns,” she told Sansa.

“Anyone who has lost a brother could empathize.”

Daenerys frowned. “I suppose that depends on the brother,” she said softly. “My brother sold me for an army,” she glanced over at Sansa. “I have faith that your brothers would never dream of doing such a thing.”

“No. Jon and Bran would never. Robb and Rickon wouldn’t have either.”

“What was Robb like? Jon speaks of him so little,” she said softly.

“Honorable. He tried to pretend that he didn’t care for Jon in front of our mother. But he did. Theon, Jon, and Robb were quite the trio. Jon, the silent one, always brooding. Theon always seemed to be...confused about his role. My father took him in when he was a child. Raised him alongside my brothers. My mother had less of an issue with him than she did Jon. And Robb was trained to be able to take over the keep and rule the North like my father. As much as he was destined to the role, I think Jon is actually better suited.”

Daenerys looked over at her. “Why is that?”

“He doesn’t want it. Jon hates being King. He’s honored, don’t misinterpret what I’m saying, but he doesn’t feel worthy of it. All he knows is that he’d give anything to protect his people.”

“Loyal to a fault,” Daenerys agreed. “I thought, maybe, you would have a problem with Jon as King. At least from my discussions with Jon about him going south. Maybe you wanted the role as Queen of the North.”

Sansa winced and Daenerys thought that maybe she had been right. “I don’t know that I wanted it as much as I would have liked to have been offered. I’m Ned Stark's daughter. It sounds absurd to think it now, given all that’s happened, but I thought between the two of us, between Jon and I, that I would be more suited. He hates the politics, the game, as Tyrion calls it. He’s a warrior and sometimes warriors make bad politicians.”

Daenerys stepped away from Sansa and Brienne and Rhaegal laid his head on the ground in front of her. She took a deep breath and thought she could see the sadness in the dragon’s eyes. It did comfort her that her children had so openly accepted Jon. It made things easier if he was going to ride Rhaegal. She’d simply have to show him how to do it properly. “And sometimes politicians get too caught up in the game to see that there are more important things,” she said as she turned back to Sansa, but her hand never left the dragon who seemed to almost purr under her caress.

“My lady, I asked you out here because I know how you feel about Jaime Lannister,” Daenerys said and looked down at the green dragon. “He killed my father and I was sent into exile. My father was mad. The stories...what he did to your family...I’m sorry, truly. But he was still my father and I never got to know him. All because Jaime Lannister stabbed him in the back,” she heaved a sigh. “I want his head as much as you do.” She watched as Brienne looked away from the two women, knowing that it probably made her uncomfortable. “But I won’t be the one to take it.”

“Why? How much of your life changed because of what he did?” Sansa argued.

“All of it. But any one change could have put me on a different path. Given all I know, all I’ve seen, I can’t want to change any one thing because everything...I might not be standing on this field, with my armies surrounding your gates, my dragons, or your brother. Any one thing could have had me killed or worse.” She looked at Sansa and frowned. “You and I both know there are worse things than death.”

“I hate him,” Sansa said finally. “Nothing keeps me from feeling that way.”

“No one is asking you to feel differently. Certainly not me. But I ask the politician in you to see what he has to offer. And consider this,” she said as she turned back to the dragon. “He did ride North to help, despite it being nowhere near the force we needed. He could have left the continent.  He could have sided with his sister,” she said with a frown. “Instead, he risked his life to come tell us that Cersei was the snake we all knew her to be, only worse.” Brienne shifted from foot to foot and Daenerys could see she wanted to speak and smiled at her. “Please speak freely, Lady Brienne.”

“Your grace, I spent a long time traveling with Ser Jaime. He kept a group of men from gang raping me. He lost his hand that night. He hated having to kill your father, considered your brother a friend. He killed the king and lived with the name Kingslayer. He hated it. It makes him feel shame. But he did it because he actually cares what happens to people. He acts as if it doesn’t bother him, that he relishes in the title, but I assure you, he hates it.” She gripped the hilt of her sword and hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “The Bolton men threw me into a pit with a bear, and Jaime came back and saved my life. He’s made some terrible choices. What he did to your brother,” she said as she looked at Sansa and frowned, “I know that the impulse is to hate him. But Jaime will prove honorable if you allow him.”

Sansa heaved a sigh. “Brienne is in love with him,” she said softly.

“Whether it’s love or not, is irrelevant. Jaime proved to me, long ago, the type of man he is,” Brienne defended. “He is the one that sent me to find Arya and Sansa. He gave me the armor I wear and the sword I carry. All to fulfill his promise to Caitlyn Stark to return her daughters to the North.”

Daenerys stepped away from Rhaegal and they all three watched him run across the field and soar into the air. “He’ll have the chance to prove himself. As I said, I won’t take his head. And I have faith that your brother’s word holds true, and if he betrays us, no one will hear him scream,” she said as she walked back to the two women. “Now, Lady Sansa, what can you tell me about your sister and her blacksmith?”

Sansa smirked. “Not much,” Daenerys looped her arm through Sansa’s and they walked back to the keep as one of the Dothraki riders approached them.

“Khaleesi, the outer ring is nearly complete.”

Daenerys nodded at him. “Start on the next one. Immediately," she ordered and he rode away and began shouting orders at the others.

“Did you learn Dothraki from your husband?”

She nodded. “My husband and my maids. It was either learn Dothraki or have him grunt at me forever. Messandei has helped to refine it.”

“They’re formidable.”

“They are,” she said as she turned to look at the horde of men riding out to the ones digging the trenches. “Wait until you see them fight,” she said, pride coloring her tone. “Jaime Lannister was unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of a battle against them.”

“He’s alive, so it didn’t go too badly for him.”

She rolled her eyes. “He thought to charge me with a spear while Drogon still lived. If it hadn’t been for Bronn, he would have been roasted alive.”

“Shame,” Sansa said softly.

Daenerys sighed. “I did worry once I heard Samwell Tarly was here. I was afraid he would hate me.”

“He may,” Sansa said softly.

“Unfortunate aspect of war. There are always losses,” she said sadly. “But they had a choice.”

“I don’t second guess your choices, your grace,” Sansa offered sympathetically. “I suppose no one knows what choices they would make in the same situation.”

“And, if I found myself in the same place, the same time, in the same situation, I would make the same choice,” Daenerys said softly. “I can’t look back and question the things I did. It would be my downfall.” Sansa and Daenerys stopped walking as they both watched Arya move into the smithy, and they both shared a look with one another. “I think your sister is more invested in the weapons being made than fighting, at the moment.”

“It’s surprising,” Sansa said. “I thought Arya was a cold blooded killer. And it turns out, she is, but there’s more.”

“He’s not unattractive.”

Sansa smiled. “No, he’s not.”

“He’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard. Jon or I could make him a Lord,” she said. “Do you think your sister would marry him?”

“Arya’s been against marriage for as long as I can remember. I think she was always afraid that she would marry someone who would demand she be something she’s not.”

“What’s that?”

“Me,” Sansa said softly. “Arya wants no part of being a lady. At least, not the role. I think she would like the part that admires a beautiful man,” she said with a smile.

“Well, let’s not disturb her,” Daenerys said as they continued walking towards the keep.

Chapter Text

SANSA

Sansa sat in front of the fire staring into the flames, contemplating what would actually happen once this war had been decided. If they won, then Jon and Daenerys would march south and depose Cersei. She only hoped that when Cersei finally died that it was long, drawn out, and painful. The woman had been the cause of so much pain in her life. Her selfishness and malice for the world would cause her to watch it all burn. She wondered how much convincing Arya would need to ride to King's Landing and strike Cersei's name from her list. The sounds of swords clanging outside drew her attention away from her murderous thoughts and she moved to the window to stare down at the courtyard as Jaime sparred with Bronn of the Blackwater, Tyrion nearby speaking to Jon as they both watched the sword play.  She watched as Bronn caught Jaime with a parry and then slugged him in the face.  Sansa winced as she knew all too well how it felt to be hit in the face.

This only seemed to make Jaime angry as he began to advance on Bronn and then used his gold hand to backhand Bronn across the face, sending the other man to his knees on the ground.  Jon and Tyrion both laughed and they were soon joined by the dragon queen who immediately pulled Jon’s attention.

She was jealous of Jon if she was honest with herself. After everything that had happened, going to the wall, losing a woman he loved, dying because his men deemed him a traitor, he’d seen the worst of life. And now he’d found love. Actual love. He had never believed in it before he went to the wall. He never thought that he would have it, while Sansa had spent nearly every night wishing for a prince to love her and give her beautiful babies. She moved away from the window and out of the solar, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head and moved to the breezeway that overlooked the courtyard.  

Daenerys stood beside Jon, but they didn’t touch, always careful to maintain propriety, though everyone knew they were together. How foolish to waste time allowing people to keep you from the one you loved. Arya joined her soon and looked over at her sister. “Be careful, sister, or people will think you’re lusting after Jon.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I’m not the one people are speaking about lusting for anyone,” she said carefully and turned to see Arya’s eyes light on Gendry where he stood on top of the far tower helping to install the second Scorpion. He seemed to realize he was being watched and turned his eyes to them and she nearly couldn’t hide the smile on her face as Arya actually blushed.

“People are stupid,” Arya said after a moment.

Sansa didn’t say anything but turned her attention back to the fight in front of them. Bronn tried to hit Jaime again, but he ducked and elbowed the other knight in the stomach. “Why Bronn, it looks to me like you might have lost a step,” Tyrion teased from beside Jon.

Bronn turned to Tyrion out of breath. “Would you like to find out?”

“I’m not a fighter. Not unless I have to be,” Tyrion said with a slight smile.

“I prefer my Hand not run off to fight a sellsword simply to prove a point,” Daenerys interjected.

“I could pick a champion.”

Daenerys shook her head. “No need. Ser Bronn, I believe, is a capable fighter.”

Sansa shook her head and turned to Arya. “They’re wasting time with all the talking.”

“Jon’s been planning. He walked the field last night. Davos found him this morning out along the edge. Seems he's having trouble sleeping.”

“How much sleep is he actually getting if he’s in the queen’s bed?” she said under her breath.

Arya then turned to face her, a strange look on her face.“That sounded incredibly bitter. Are you lusting after Jon?”

“I’m not lusting for Jon,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m worried. The dead are coming,” she said softly. “It feels like everyone has forgotten that.”

“You think they don’t know? You think our brother who has seen the Night King has forgotten? You think Daenerys doesn’t remember that she lost a dragon? Do you believe that Jaime Lannister doesn’t realize what’s coming for us considering he abandoned his sister to come to our aid, though his aid isn’t what we needed it to be?” Arya frowned and looked back out at the yard as Sansa continued to gaze at her.  “We all know what we’re fighting, Sansa. We also have to know what we’re fighting for. Allow them their moments of levity.”

Sansa turned back to the yard and frowned. “What are you fighting for?” she whispered.

“What I’ve always fought for,” she turned to look at Sansa and sighed. “My family.”

“And Gendry?”

Arya turned her eyes to where Gendry stood at the top of the tower and Sansa watched as he helped one of the woodworkers with testing the rotation of the Scorpion they had finished. “He is my family.”

Sansa wanted to be happy for her, but instead, she felt sorry for herself. Jon, Daenerys, and Tyrion left Bronn and Jaime as they went into the keep.  Sansa left her sister on the wall and went down to the hall. The attendants were setting out plates and goblets for dinner and the smell of roasted meat filled the hall. The door behind her opened and Jaime entered only without Bronn and muttering to himself. He stopped at seeing that he wasn’t alone and she suddenly had the urge to be anywhere but there. He had a small cut on his jaw that was bleeding, obviously where Bronn had punched him.

“Lady Sansa,” he said with a bow of his head.

“Ser Jaime.”

He tilted his head a bit and a strange smile graced his face. “I’m not sure I’m considered a Ser any longer.”

“I thought knights were knights until their deaths.”

“Considering the queen in the south has a bounty on my head, I’m not sure how much longer that will be.”

“But lucky for you, you rode north to aid my brother and Daenerys. One queen for another.”

He clenched his jaw and she felt no need to be kind to him. There had been much agony come to the Starks because of Jaime and specifically his relationship with his sister. Bran came to mind, though the younger boy didn’t hold any of it against him. He could have had Jaime killed, should have. She still advocated for that to Bran, but he ignored her, claiming that Jaime was an important piece to have here. Sansa failed to see how that was true. He'd claimed that the moats of fire weren't his idea, Sandor inside the Keep was hers. She wondered aside from his presence what he actually contributed to this fight.

“One queen is not the same as the other,” he stated firmly. “I think we both know that.”

“More than most,” she answered. “I was sorry to hear about Tommen and Myrcella. They were always kind to me, which was rare in the capital, and for members of your family.”

“My brother was kind to you, was he not?”

“Yes, Tyrion proved that I shouldn’t judge all lions by the worst of them. After all, he never shoved a child from a window.”

She watched his hand tensed around the pommel of his sword and then sighed. “No, he didn’t.” He frowned and looked away from her. She thought of leaving while she could but his voice stopped her. “If you find my being here in such distaste, why haven’t you killed me in my sleep?”

She folded her hands in front of her and took a careful step forward. “I’m constantly reminded that we need you here. Your skills with the sword are coming along, though, not what you once were. But as a commander on the battlefield, you’re supposedly irreplaceable.”

“You disagree?” he questioned.

“Everyone can be replaced,” she said softly.  

“And how many battles have you fought, Lady Sansa?”

She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing at his tone. Who was this man to judge what she'd endured and what she'd fought? “I’ve fought monsters you couldn’t imagine, Ser Jaime, one of which was your own son,” she whispered menacingly.

Jaime looked away from her when faced with the truth about Joffrey. “As you said, you don’t judge the lions by the worst of them,” he said finally and his eyes met hers. “I’m sorry for all that happened to you under the...care of my family.”

Sansa tilted her head at him, and while some would relish his apology, it only made her want to fight him more. “You had the chance to step in and stop it," she paused, allowing him to know that she did blame him for his inaction as much as he blamed the others for their actions. "You didn’t. Your sister tormented me. Your son threatened and abused me, once in open court for the world to see. Your father married me to your brother against my will. It was lucky for me that Tyrion was one of the few people in your family that treated me with kindness. The only one who ever promised he wouldn't hurt me. I would forgive Tyrion if he apologized, though he need not. He had no influence with any of them. But you did." She said heatedly. "And you did nothing.”

“What sort of power do you think I had?” he questioned, his tone angry. “I came back to the capital and my family ignored me unless it suited them to have me around.” He held up his hand. “Disgraced and disfigured.”

“So, I should feel sorry for you?” she asked, disdain dripping from her tone.

He paused and must have realized how he’d sounded to a girl who had been subjected to emotional and physical torture at the hands of his family. “No,” he whispered. His eyes met hers and there was something in them that made her uncomfortable. Remorse, maybe. But then determination rose to the surface as he murmured, “But don’t pretend like I had the ability to help you. Don’t make me your enemy when you don’t have to.”

There was something about the way he said the last bit that caused an ache in her stomach she couldn't put to words. He was a good deal older than her, used to manipulating people to get what he wanted. She didn't trust that he wasn't trying to do that now. “All Lannisters are enemies of the Starks,” she said softly. “You made it that way when you shoved my brother from a window.” She reached into her sleeve and handed him her handkerchief. “You’re bleeding,” she said coldly and then left the room to escape his inscrutable looks and how close they had gotten during their conversation. Jaime Lannister seemed sincere, which is the part that bothered her the most. If he was hateful and cruel, like Cersei or Joffrey then she would be better able to deflect him. But as it was, she believed him when he'd apologized. She believed him when he said he was there to help, and that only made her feel worse. She still felt the simmering hatred for him inside her, but there was something new bubbling within her and she was disgusted by it. She wouldn't give it a name. She wouldn't acknowledge it. 

One way or another, all of this would be decided in a few days when the dead marched on the keep. She already felt an attachment to so many that were fighting. She wouldn't give Jaime Lannister the satisfaction of being one of them.

Chapter Text

ARYA

Arya held her blade at Bronn’s throat and he held up both hands, one holding a sword, as she stepped back and they prepared again. He swung at her and she danced from under the sword and then had the tip of Needle pressed beneath his arm and he rolled his eyes. “Where did a little girl learn to fight like you?”

“Do I look like a little girl?” Arya questioned. She realized that the Hound was standing nearby and knew she would eventually have to speak to him. She was still uncertain about her feelings for him. She thought he had died but when she’d seen him she was relieved that he hadn’t. She was feeling too many things these days. She wondered how much it was because her past was finally surrounding her. So many faces and people she had squared off against or had cared for were in the same place at the same time.

“You’re not a lady,” he responded. “You’re a killer. I go back to my question as to where you learned?”

“I’ve had a lot of teachers. Syrio Forel was the first one to teach me how to use a sword. The Hound, though his lesson was more that my sword wouldn’t necessarily penetrate armor, so I had to fight smarter. And the other lessons I took in Braavos.”

Sandor approached them and furrowed his brow. “How did you get to Braavos? This after you left me to die?”

Bronn looked at Arya. “You bested him?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Brienne of Tarth.”

“Knocked me down a cliff.”

“And you lived?” Bronn questioned.

“She let me,” he said looking at Arya. “I still haven’t decided if I want to kill you for that or not. Could have ended my misery then and here.”

Arya frowned. “I took you off my list. Don’t put me on yours,” she said softly.

“Oh, don’t want me dead anymore?”

She shook her head. “No. Most of the ones I want dead are.”

Bronn furrowed his brow. “What list?”

Arya looked at the Hound and he gave a half smile. “The little wolf has a list of names of people she’s going to kill. One of them is in this castle.”

“Who?”

Arya eyed the sellsword and frowned. “Not you.”

“Jaime?” Bronn asked, curious if his benefactor would need protecting.

She shook her head. “No, the Lannister head I want still sits on the throne in King’s Landing.”

“Good luck with that, girl. The Mountain would never let you near her.”

“He’s on there, too.”

“You don’t get to kill him,” Sandor said, vehemently. “His life isn’t yours to take.”

“He’s not actually alive. Jaime doesn’t know the specifics, but he’s dead. He’s just up and walking around.” Bronn shrugged. “Something her Hand did.”

Arya contemplated this for a moment. Maybe Sandor would be the person to take with her to finally end Cersei’s life. He would be a good distraction against the Mountain to allow her the time needed to kill the Mad Queen. And that’s what she thought of her. Anyone who would blow up a Sept and kill all of those people was clearly insane. She tilted her head at Sandor and then turned to Bronn.

“Fuck off and let me talk to the little wolf,” Sandor said to Bronn and turned his full attention to Arya.

“I need a drink,” Bronn said as he walked away towards the keep.

They were both silent for a moment and then Arya spoke. “I’m going to kill Cersei.”

“How many lives have you taken now?” Sandor asked, rather impressed by his former abductee.

She shrugged. “Hard to say. I don’t actually know how many were in the Twins when I wiped out the Freys.”

Sandor stared at her for a moment and then smirked. “That was you?”

“The North remembers,” she said softly. “They betrayed my family. None of them could live.”

“They the only ones.”

“No. There are others,” she said softly. “I like it. Killing.”

Sandor nodded. “So do I.”

“I don’t want to anymore. Like it, that is.”

He shrugged. “If you like it, fucking embrace it. Sometimes that can be the only thing that saves you.”

She nodded. “I know. But I think I want to be more than a killer, now. I still plan to kill Cersei, and Jaime if he decides to betray us. And Beric.”

Sandor frowned. “Why Beric?”

“He sold Gendry to the red witch.”

Sandor looked at the ground and she couldn't read the expression on his face. “Before you go taking his last life, maybe you ought to talk to the boy he sold.”

“Why?”

“Maybe he doesn’t feel like Beric should die. At least not at your hands.”

“It’s not up to him.”

“Maybe it should be,” he said before he started walking away.

“You don’t want to fight me?” Arya asked confused.

He took a deep breath and turned to face her. “No, little wolf, I don’t want to fight you. I’ll fight beside you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be nice to me, now. I won’t know how to take it.”

He chuckled. “You’re still a fucking pain in the ass.”

She nodded and smiled. “That’s more familiar. I like it.” He gave her a nod and walked off and was stopped by Davos to speak for a moment. The green dragon flew over the keep and she could barely make out two figures on it.  She could see the familiar white hair of Daenerys, but the other rider was clearly Jon. She walked outside of the gates and watched as the green dragon landed and then let them both climbed down, Jon’s hand lingering for a bit longer as he extended it to the Dragon Queen. Arya rolled her eyes, not understanding why they felt the need to hide their relationship. Anyone with eyes could see it.

They stood speaking to one another and Arya decided to interrupt before he got the bad idea to throw Daenerys to the ground and truly cause the Lords of the North to question his sanity. She heard them all asking how he could trust the Mother of Dragons. But then someone always chimed in that she had come North, abandoning her fight with Cersei, for now, in order to try to save them. Her armies were the bulk of the fighting force and her dragons were the one factor that could sway all of this to their side. They usually grew quiet after that. Arya knew that they would respect Daenerys more when they actually saw her go into the field to try to protect them all.

She stopped away from the dragons; Daenerys turned to see her and stepped away from Jon, a smile on her face at seeing Arya. They both walked to her and smiled up at her brother. “It’s bizarre to think of you riding a dragon.”

“It’s still strange to be on one,” he answered. “I’m not sure if Ghost would consider it a betrayal.”

Daenerys smiled. “He’s always been good to me,” she said as they began walking back to the keep.

“You haven’t been with him since he was a pup, either,” he said softly and turned to look at Arya. “Sansa told me you saw Nymeria.”

Daenerys looked over at Arya as they entered through the gates. “Who is Nymeria?”

“She was my direwolf.”

“Was?”

Jon frowned sadly as Arya explained how Nymeria had come to no longer be with her. If anything it only made her want to kill Joffrey more. It was a name that had been taken from her. She also told them of her meeting with Nymeria on the road back to Winterfell and she felt a hand on her shoulder and smiled up at Jon. “All of them are gone except Nymeria and Ghost.”

“What they did with Greywind...” she muttered. “I killed the man who did.” Jon and Daenerys both stopped and looked at her. “I was at the Twins that night. The Hound had taken me there to ransom me to Robb. I could hear screaming inside the keep and watched them come outside and slaughter all of Robb’s men. And then Greywind,” she said as she lowered her eyes to the ground. “The Hound knocked me out and we left, and I came to in time to see that they had cut off Robb’s head and put Greywind’s in its place,” she said softly.  She looked up at Jon. “I killed that man, the Hound killed the others with him. I want everyone that ever harmed our family to suffer a gruesome death.”

Jon didn’t speak, but Daenerys did. “I understand. I do. It’s hard to control the rage that can fill you when you know your life could have been so different if people had been honorable. I was betrayed when I was in Qarth. One of my maids that I trusted with my life, helped to slaughter my men and one of my dear friends all for riches. They took my dragons. When I got them back, I found her in the bed of the man who had tried to manipulate me into marrying him.”

“Did you burn them?” Jon asked. Arya could see that he didn't necessarily like how Daenerys handled her enemies, but Arya wondered if he judged her harshly or realized that Daenerys did not have the easiest life, and usually did what she thought was right.

She shook her head. “No. I locked them into his empty fault. I trusted her, and she betrayed me. Sometimes, we do horrible things in order to avenge those that we love. It’s easy to let that be the only part of us.”

Arya was silent for a moment and turned to the silver-haired woman. “How do you balance it?”

Daenerys smiled slightly. “It’s difficult. I could have taken King’s Landing the second I got to Westeros and probably only needed one dragon to do it. Too many innocent people would have died and I don’t want to rule solely out of fear. I want people to respect my position. I chose a Hand who challenges me when I want to give in to those impulses, though he does have trouble controlling it at times,” she glanced at Jon. “I know what my father was, and I fear I may become him. But I believe I have enough people around me that love and care for me, that believe in me, that it helps.”

“Are you the right one to rule, then?” Arya thought it was a fair question. If she knew about that part of herself, then maybe she could be objective about whether she was the right person to sit on the throne. There had already been one Mad King and a Mad Queen currently occupied the throne. 

She took a deep breath. “Better than Cersei, yes,” her eyes met Jon’s, though, and then she smiled. “But I’ve chosen a King who manages to make me see reason when all I want is to burn the world.”  Arya looked over at Jon who continued to stare at the queen. The sound of a Scorpion being shot filled the courtyard and each of them looked up to the final tower to see Gendry loading it again and then climb beneath the machine to make an adjustment. “I hate the thought of those things shooting while we’ll be flying the other two,” Daenerys said.

“Which is why men are being trained on them. We don’t want them to fire at us,” Jon said as they watched Gendry move from beneath the Scorpion and one of the men loaded it and it fired again, this time the sound more pronounced and they watched the spear fly clear over the field, so far, Arya didn't only just saw it land. One of the guards on the wall clapped as the Smith slapped Gendry on the back.

Arya smiled. Four .

*~*

She hadn’t gone to him right away, simply watched as he made his way back into the forge and other men carried groups of spears to the top of the towers. There appeared to be more of ten for each weapon. Arya had only seen Gendry in passing as he didn’t take meals in the hall and she heard he hadn’t slept in his room, but had only managed an hour of sleep in the forge between weapons. She had seen him giving instructions to some of the others as she’d been training with Brienne and Podrick that morning. She thought it was absurd that Gendry thought she would ever let Podrick touch her like she wanted him to. Bronn had only offered to spar with her after Brienne had been called to Sansa’s side.

But now, Arya leaned against the far wall and watched as men moved out of the forge carrying dozens of the bolts needed to load into the Scorpion.  Gendry appeared in the doorway to watch them leave and he looked exhausted.  Jon approached him and shook his hand.  She drifted closer and hid at the corner of the wall to hear their conversation, trying to remain out of eyesight of both men.

“When Davos told me you could do this, I thought you would consider it a slap in the face,” Jon said softly, and Arya understood that her brother was more able to read people than she had thought. “And if you did think of it that way, I apologize. But we needed someone we knew could do the work quickly and would understand that nothing came before this. You’d seen and fought the dead. You, better than anyone, understood the threat that is bearing down on us.” Jon nodded. “We’re forever in your debt.” He heaved a sigh and looked away from Gendry, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going.  “I suppose Arya has told you the plan for battle? You’ll be in the courtyard with her.”

“Yes, she told me.”

“Arya is more than capable of taking care of herself, but I feel more comfortable having someone there who cares about her to watch her back.” Gendry nodded while Arya wondered where her brother was going with this conversation. “When we met, you told me you were the bastard of Robert Baratheon and that you had met my father once. You never mentioned that you traveled with Arya. Why?”

Gendry furrowed his brow and rubbed a hand over his head. “I don’t know. I wanted to tell you, but the truth is, I was afraid to say her name out loud and be questioned about what happened to her. I didn’t know. I knew I had chosen to not go with her to her brother and she was angry with me. When the Brotherhood sold me, though, I didn’t know what had happened to her after that. I didn’t want to think the worst, because I knew her and her unbelievable ability to survive. But I wasn’t sure what happened to her and I didn’t...none of my reasons really make sense other than it pained me to think about her alone.”

“You care for her more than we know, don’t you?” Jon questioned softly.

“To be honest, Jon, I think I love her,” he heaved a sigh. “For longer than even I knew. But I’m a bastard and she’s a lady. We’re not supposed to be together...”

“And if I legitimized you,” Jon offered? “Would you want that?”

Gendry was quiet and Arya wondered what he would say. She didn’t need him to be a legitimate heir. Other people would want him to be, simply for appearances, but she would never allow his name to keep them from being together if it was what they both wanted. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and clear, “It depends on what she wants.”

They were both silent and Arya found that her heart was near to beating out of her chest. Gendry loved her and Jon would legitimize him so they could be together. She had no desire to marry, but the thought that she could keep Gendry forever made her mouth go dry.  “There’s a room waiting for you in the castle with a bath.  Anything you want, ask,” Jon told him.

“Thank you,” he said with a nod before Jon walked away and joined Daenerys, Tyrion, Jorah, and Davos as they started out of the gates on horseback this time.  

Gendry heaved a sigh and started towards the castle and was greeted by one of the women she’d seen tending to Sansa.  She was younger than Sansa, but older than her. And she was pretty. She wondered if Gendry thought so. “I was told by Lady Sansa to escort you to your chambers,” she said softly and turned to lead the way. She didn't like the appraising look on the girl's face as she looked at Gendry. Arya hated her. If she laid so much as a hand on him, she’d remove all of her fingers followed by her hands at the wrist. She followed them to a room and the woman stopped outside the door. “King Jon asked that we have clothing brought in to you.  If you’ll leave what you have on outside your door, we’ll have them cleaned and brought to you on the morrow. There's also a meal waiting for you inside.”

Gendry nodded before he walked into the room and Arya ducked down the corridor to avoid the passing woman.  She crept down the hall and opened Gendry’s door to find him naked, holding his pants in front of him, a look of irritation on his face. “Seven hells, Arya!”

She closed the door behind her, never taking her eyes from Gendry and the fine line of hair that trailed down his abdomen, the rest of it was hidden beneath his discarded pants that he still used as a shield. She slid the latch into place and shrugged. “I told you I would find you.”

He looked down and swallowed thickly. “Does it have to be when I’m exhausted and covered in soot and ash?” he questioned.

“You have a bath,” she gestured to the tub. “Don’t let me stop you,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt.

“With you in here?” his voice held a soft timber, but she could hear the nervousness behind it. 

She smiled slowly.  “I’ll wait for you,” she said as she removed the belt from around her waist and placed the knife on the table beside his bed and the sword leaned against it.  She turned to face him to find him still watching her. “What’s wrong?”

He looked worried as his eyes drifted to the closed and latched door. “What if your brother decides to come talk to me again?”

“He’s gone out to ride the field with the others. He won’t be back until the sun sets,” she loosened the ties of her cloak and pulled it over her head and she could feel his eyes move along her body. “You should really take your bath,” she said as she sat in the chair beside the tub and removed her boots.  She watched as his breathing sped and his eyes became transfixed on her feet, then met her eyes.

“I knew it years ago, but you’re going to be the reason I die,” he muttered and moved to the bath and dropped his pants.  She released a pent up breath at seeing him naked in front of her.  She’d see him naked before when they’d been on the road.  The number of times she’d seen a man’s penis couldn’t actually be calculated. Especially when they thought there were just men in the vicinity.  They would whip out their cocks and urinate anywhere.  Gendry was included in that, as well.  This was nothing like those times.

The trail of hair that started at just below his sternum to move over the rigid line of his belly and encompassed his cock which was sticking straight, bobbing as he moved into the tub.  He leaned his head back for a moment as the hot water soothed his aching bones and body. She almost felt bad that she had no intention of letting him rest for long. She’d spent days thinking of Gendry and his calloused hands.  The tongue that had tentatively come out to touch her lips she wanted between her folds bringing her to heights of pleasure she’d only recently found with her fingers.  She always thought of him and how it would feel if it were his fingers.  They were bigger than hers, would probably fill her better. Or his mouth and his sinful tongue to lick her, his hot breath warming the inside of her thighs.  He lifted a handful of water to his face and she watched as soot washed into the water.  He was dirty and tired and he would be completely hers by the end of the night.

She reached over and handed him soap then began undoing the laces on the front of her jerkin and his eyes were transfixed to her fingers.  She tilted her head at him.  “I need you clean,” she whispered and nodded to the soap in his hands.  He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face.  She removed the heavy leather piece and allowed it to hang over the back of her chair as he cleaned the rest of his body, his muscles moving beneath the tight skin.  The muscles moved over his shoulders, his neck, and chest; she had thought of little else over the last few days.  When she’d see him as she walked past the forge, or snuck inside to speak to him, he was completely lost in thought as to what he was doing.  She could see the expanse of muscles in his forearms as he’d rolled up the sleeves of his tunic or had donned the one that had no sleeves but left his arms completely exposed. She had lusted from afar, always where she could see him but not letting him know she was there.  His blue eyes were transfixed on his work and her eyes were constantly watching the way his body moved. She wanted it pressed against her and his mouth on hers. She wanted all the naughty things that she knew ladies weren't supposed to want, but she didn't consider herself a lady, so that didn't matter. She wanted all of it and she wanted it from him.

She undid the laces of her breeches and slid them over her legs, leaving her in only her tunic and small clothes.  He sunk beneath the water came up and shook his head as she’d seen their direwolves do in the past, shaking off the extra water.  He opened one eye and groaned.  He shook his head and turned his gaze to her fully and licked his lips. Her pulse quickened as he held his hand out to her and she took it.  He tugged on her to stand and she stepped closer to him and he stood as well.  His wet fingers brushed against her cheek and she slid her hands over his chest and over his shoulders.  He tilted her mouth up to his at the same time he pulled her against him.  She moaned into his mouth as his tongue sought entrance to hers, somewhat amazed to feel the hard length of him pressed against her. She stepped back, causing him to nearly fall from the tub.  He climbed out and began backing her towards the bed, his wet body causing her remaining clothes to stick to her.  

He pulled her tunic over her head and despite the cold, she felt warm everywhere.  Gendry lifted her to the edge of the bed as if she weighed nothing.  She knew he was strong, seen him wield both his war hammer and the one in the forge, but feeling that power around her made her find his lips again.  His tongue danced against hers as his hands helped to remove her small clothes.  She knew she should probably be shy, hide her body or have some feeling of modesty, but she didn’t.  She felt hot and wanted his mouth and hands everywhere.

The kiss was broken when he began trailing kisses along her throat, nipping his teeth against her pulse.  She dragged her fingers over his neck, shoulders, and stopped at the start of the faint line of hair on his abdomen.  She stroked her thumb through it as he gasped. He lowered his head and took the tip of her breast into his mouth and her body responded by thrusting up towards him.  It was her turn to gasp as his tongue flicked over the tip and gooseflesh appeared.  He held one hand in the middle of her back and cupped her other breast with his free hand.

She moaned his name, wanting more but not really sure more of what.  She wanted him to kiss her again, but she didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.  She wanted his lips and tongue and fingers at her cunt, but thought she would break apart in his arms if he removed himself from where he was now. When he did pull away from her, she whimpered. But he pushed her back on the bed and his lips began moving lower. She stroked over his head and sighed as he stopped at the three scars on her abdomen. His fingers ran over them and he lifted his head to look at her, concern in his gaze. “What happened?”

“I was stabbed,” she whispered.

“By who?”

She smiled and brought his lips back to her skin. “No one,” she muttered then moaned as he licked each one, her thighs tightening around him until he pushed them farther apart. His hands slid beneath her and she felt his hot breath against her folds.  Arya lifted her hips, silently pleading with him to end her agony. When she felt his tongue slide against the slippery folds, her back bowed on the bed, all reason, logic and any other thought flew from her mind. He put a hand on each knee and pushed them flat to the bed, holding her in place.  She groaned as he licked the length of her slit and then up to her clit.  She felt open and exposed, vulnerable under his mouth and hands. Feeling vulnerable had been a foreign feeling to her. She hadn’t expected it. But for him and the closer she got to the edge, she welcomed it. Only for him.

She felt her body tightening, the feeling of being close to an edge and not quite reaching it. She felt him release one of her legs as his finger moved to her sex. The glide of them against her and the feeling of her body clenching around the finger he slid inside her caused her body to convulse, racked with her climax, his name torn from her lips in a guttural groan. She thrust her hips against his finger, wanting to feel more. He moved his lips back over her abdomen and she could feel the moisture of her cunt on his face. Wet and messy . When his lips settled over the dips of her collarbone and his free hand moved over her breast, she wanted to taste him.  She pulled his face to hers and he seemed to hesitate. She wouldn’t let him as her lips claimed his. She swept her tongue into his mouth and it was his turn to moan. He tasted of something slightly salty and she realized it was her on his tongue. Her nails dug into his shoulders and back. She didn’t care if she marked him, in fact, she hoped she did. He was hers. She was his.

He slid a hand beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her hips as he lifted her in his arms and moved her father back on the bed. “More,” her voice rasped against his skin. “I need more.” Her fingers moved between them and grasped his cock in her hands.  His mouth found the pulse in her throat and he sucked it and then lathed against it with his tongue.

She felt him move her hands aside and guided him to her entrance. He pulled his mouth from her then and stared down at her. His expression was one of hunger and concern. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

“Yes. Never more certain.” She cupped his face in her hands again to kiss him. She broke the kiss when he brushed the tip of his cock against her clit, causing an involuntary shiver. The slight smirk on his face nearly caused her to push him to his back and end their torment together until she felt him slip down and thrust forward into her. He shifted and had an elbow pressed to the feather mattress at her shoulders while his hands cupped her face and he kissed her. There was an odd stretching sensation of him filling her, but it didn’t hurt the way she’d heard others talk about it.  She expected pain, a lot of it. And when he pulled back and thrust forward again, she did feel it slightly then, but not enough to let him stop.

“Alright?” he asked and she nodded. “Let me know if you’re not.  We’ll stop,” he said, though she could hear the strain in his voice.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she responded and dug her nails into his ass. He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes never breaking from hers. His hands cupped her face, bringing her lips back to his.  He continued to thrust into her and she whimpered against his lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist when he broke the kiss and moved back to her throat and bit along her skin.  Her body coiled around his and finally shattered when he licked a path from her shoulder to just beneath her jaw.

She could feel him begin to pull out from her and she shook her head.  “No.  I’ll have you,” she muttered against his lips.  

“Arya...” she could see him begin to protest, but she tightened her thighs around him.

“Moon tea,” was all she said as she grabbed his hips and pulled them forcefully against her. She felt her body tightened around his cock which made him groan from low in his throat and he gave a few more shallow thrusts before he buried his face in her neck and shuddered in her arms.  

*~*

Chapter Text

GENDRY

He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. If Jon walked into that room right then and told him to get off of Arya or he’d kill him, Gendry would give her one last kiss and welcome death. He knew his weight on top of her was probably crushing her, but she only wrapped her arms around his neck and moved heated kisses along his jaw. She was everything he wanted in one small, fiery package. They’d marked one another as he knew she’d have a purpling bruise over her throat and only a bit of time would tell the sort of damage her nails had done to his skin.  They were the kind of battle scars he wanted.

He felt her lips against his ears and her smile. “Are you alive?”

“Barely,” he responded and laughed. “Do you want me to move?” he asked, wondering where he would find the strength.

“Never,” she whispered. “Let’s stay like this, always.”

He chuckled. “Good way to die, I suppose.”

She shook her head and lifted his so he could look at her. “You don’t get to die unless I say so.”

He smirked and brushed her hair away from her face. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Swear it to me, now,” her smile was teasing and he wondered how he was going to ever be convinced to leave this room. To leave the comfort of her arms.

He shook his head and placed a kiss on her nose, then her chin. “I’m not making a vow I can’t necessarily keep. Have you come after me in the afterlife for not keeping my word?”

She closed her eyes. “I won’t let you go. Not now.”

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip as his hand cupped her face. “You’re possessive,” he whispered after a moment. “I’m strangely attracted to that.”

She grinned. “If we examine this too closely I think we’d both find it to be strange.”

He nodded. “Fair.” He kissed her again and when they pulled away, he managed to roll to his back beside her. The loss of heat from her body caused an involuntary shiver to course through him.

“You were wrong,” she said as she propped her head up on an elbow and traced patterns over his chest with her other hand.

He furrowed his brow, trying not to drift off to sleep. “Not surprising but what exactly was I wrong about?”

She moved closer to him, her mouth hovering just above his ear. “It was a very good idea for you to show me the Lord’s kiss.”

He snorted and looked over at her. “I'm honored, m’lady.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was still a hint of a smile on her face. “Do you want me to hit you?”

He laughed and tugged her against him. “Well, you've already scratched my back to hell. Maybe I like your violent tendencies.”

She smiled and grew quiet. She snuggled into the side of him. “Why did you pay women for sex?”

“You want to talk about this now?” He asked and at her nod, he looked down at her. “I only paid one. The other I don't want to talk about,” he said angrily.

She lifted her head. “You're not getting out of the conversation now. What happened?”

He sighed, dreading her reaction, afraid she would laugh at him. It was a source of anger and shame for him. Anger because the woman had found his weakness and preyed upon it, shame because it had left him more damaged than he thought possible.  “The red witch. She tied me down to a bed, climbed on top of me and...I was out of sorts. She was seducing me. She only wanted my blood to run hot so she could take it. She used leeches...”

Arya sat up and looked down at him, her gray eyes concentrated on his. “She hurt you,” she said softly.

He frowned. “Took something from me, too. I didn't trust anyone after that, really. Not even Davos, at first. Not until he let me go.”

She furrowed her brow and looked at his chest. He felt her fingers smooth over the first, second, then the third mark left by the leeches. “She's on my list you know. For taking you from me. Beric and Thoros for selling you. Though Thoros is dead, so I suppose I can remove him.”

He captured her fingers in his hand and sighed. A short time ago, he would have relished the thought of someone killing Beric and Thoros. But now that Thoros was dead and knew that Beric was set on fighting against the dead, he felt differently. He knew why they did what they did. He didn’t like it, but he knew the reality of it. They either handed him over willingly, got the gold they needed, or they would have all probably been killed by whatever magic the red witch had. After a moment in which he stared down at their joined hands, he said softly, “Release Beric.”

She shook her head, her eyes hardened. “Why?”

He moved on the bed so he was sitting facing her. “Because I'm asking you to. There's not really a reason that I can explain. I just don't feel like he should die.” He was momentarily distracted by her lean body. He could see faint whisker burns along her abdomen and even vaguely between her thighs. He realized she was still waiting for him to speak, and so he continued.  “When I saw him again, I was furious. I wanted your brother to kill them where they stood. But I fought with them beyond the wall, saw Thoros get attacked by an undead bear and Beric cauterize the wound with his flaming sword. I’ve seen what’s coming and we need fighters.”

She seemed to be weighing this and turned her gray eyes back to him. She didn’t agree or disagree with what he said, but instead, changed the subject on him. “You paid the other one?”

At this, he blushed and could feel it moving up his face. “Yes. The nightmare of the red witch wasn't letting me...find relief.” He sighed and propped his arms on his bent knees as she sat facing him on hers. The moment wasn’t lost on Gendry. It was intimate, sharing one of the worst experiences of his life with the one person who meant the most to him. Under normal circumstances, he never would have paid for the services of a woman. But he was truly at a loss of what to do, the memory so clear in his mind. “So, I paid to try and have the memory removed.”

“Did it work?” She asked, no jealousy or anger behind her tone, just curiosity.

He shrugged. “I haven't had a problem with getting off since,” he smirked but her expression changed to one of anger and he was confused by it. “Don't be angry.”

Arya took a deep breath and leaned her chin against his knee. “I am. But not at you.” Her fingers danced over a healed burn on his arm, her eyes fixed on it. When she spoke, her words were soft but clear. “I’m angry at what that witch did to you.”

He ran a hand over his head and pulled her closer to him. “She's not here,” he reminded and tugged at the tie that held her hair back from her face and tossed it to the table beside the bed. His fingers moved through her hair as she leaned forward and kissed him. His hands cupped her face and she straddled his waist. He trailed his lips over her chin, throat, and to her breasts cupping one and licking the other. “It's you and I. That's what matters.”

He looked up at her to find her biting her lip. She moved her hands over his neck, shoulders, and down to his cock which was nearly fully hard. A few strokes of her hand over his heated skin and he pulled her flush against him.  “I get to be on top, now,” she insisted and pushed him to his back. He felt a slight bit of panic until he was encased inside the warm heat of her cunt.

He let out a staggered breath and he saw her wince and he gripped her hips. “Are you alright?” he questioned.

Her eyes met his and she gave him a smile and sat back. “I hear this is similar to riding a horse,” she said as she leaned up and thrust back down, but she didn’t make a face or cry out in pain. She rocked against him and he licked his lips, trying to control the need to thrust up into her. Instead, he let her set the pace, her hands braced on his chest while his explored the contours and planes of her lithe body.  She tossed her head back as his fingers found the tips of her breasts and she thrust her hips against his hard.  “Gendry,” she moaned, and he knew he wanted to hear her say his name like that forever. Married or not, she would be his for the rest of his life.

*~*

He was dozing beside her, the only sound that of the fire and their breathing. The top fur had been tossed to the floor as Arya had realized it was stained with blood.  He thought she looked strangely embarrassed by this. He was curled on his side, his face beside her ear.  She lay on her back, her eyes closed as his thumb rubbed small circles over the flesh of her hip and she traced over the arm at her waist. She leaned her head against his and he could almost hear her smile as she whispered his name. “Gendry?”

He opened one eye and peeked at her to find that she was looking at him. “Mmm,” was all he was able to manage. He was exhausted from being up for several days and then how they’d spent their afternoon learning one another’s bodies. He didn’t know if he liked licking and touching her more or having her kiss and taste him.  He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of her lips closing around his cock tentatively.  But then her moans when he’d made her come twice on his tongue were something he’d never forget either.

She smiled and moved into his arms and pushed him to his back to allow her to lay in his arms once more. “How long until you think you'll want to do it again?”

He groaned. “I haven't slept in almost three days.”

“So...an hour?”

Gendry was thrilled that she couldn’t get enough of him as he certainly would never get his fill of her. He smiled at the top of her head and placed a kiss in her hair. He entwined their fingers. “Less.”

*~*

Gendry had awoken to the sound of someone knocking on the door and lifted his head to see Arya, fully dressed save her one boot which she held in her hand. He climbed from the bed and donned his breeches and watched her grab her sword to hide behind the door.

He opened it to reveal Davos who smiled at him. “I saw the Scorpions being tested and men training on how to use them this afternoon. You did a good job.”

Gendry nodded. “Thank you.”

“I'm sure you're aware that I was the one who suggested you. I didn't mean offense.”

He shook his head. “Not a problem.”

“May I come in?”

Gendry frowned, wanting Davos to leave before he discovered the secret that was currently peeking out of the crack in the door after she had finally pulled on her other boot. “I was sleeping,” he said, though it wasn’t actually a lie. He simply hadn’t been sleeping alone. “I haven't done that in a few days.”

“Ah, of course, it's just that Lady Sansa is looking for her sister and someone suggested she come looking here. I managed to cut her off and steer her to the forge, but I don’t think she'll be there for long,” he whispered and Arya stepped from around the door.

“You saw nothing,” she said as she took her sword and left Gendry's room.

Davos cast a look at Gendry and then smiled at the quickly retreating form of Arya. “You won't say anything, will you?” Gendry asked for reassurance. The man had gone out of his way to protect him in the past, he didn’t know how far that would extend.

“And have her kill me? No. But be careful. Seems like she leaves a mark,” Davos pointed to his own shoulder to let him know that there was evidence of them together. Gendry looked and could see what looked to be claw marks. Arya Stark’s fingernails were sharper than they looked.

“Thank you.”

He gave a final nod and Gendry closed the door behind him. He pulled his tunic over his head, trying to absorb some of the warmth of the room and was nearly on the bed when another knock sounded. Gendry checked the room quickly then opened the door to find Sansa.  He bowed his head and frowned. “Lady Sansa.”

“May I come in?” she asked, and Lady Brienne stood outside the door.

He moved out of the way and allowed her into the room and she nodded to Brienne to stay where she was. Sansa closed the door behind her and she looked around briefly before her eyes landed on the table beside his bed. He noticed the tie that Arya used to pull her hair back and mentally berated himself for missing it. Sansa then turned her eyes to his. “We met the other morning but didn't get the opportunity to speak.” He remained silent, knowing that people only said things like that when they wanted to speak. “I understand you know my sister well.”

Intimately. “We knew one another years ago. Fought for each other.”

“And how do you feel about her now?”

“My lady, that's...between your sister and me,” he knew he was taking a gamble, but he had no desire to discuss his relationship, sexual or otherwise, with her sister.

Sansa frowned. “Your relationship, past and present is fodder for gossips. Everyone suspects you've bedded her, if not recently, then years ago.”

“I've never said anything of the sort to anyone,” he replied vehemently.

Sansa smiled. “Arya has no interest in getting married, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. I simply hope you love and respect her enough to make sure that anyone who speaks badly of her in your presence...”

“Will leave without their tongues, my lady.”

She nodded and walked to the door. “New clothes are being sent up for you. Jon’s request. Says you'll need a warrior's garb if you're to take your place in the fight beside Arya.”

He smiled and felt a bit relieved at the thought that he might have just received her approval for his relationship with her younger sister. “Thank you.”

Sansa nodded. “I'll also send up a salve to help with the scratches on your neck,” she said before she left and his hand felt along his neck and groaned.

He removed his tunic and his leathers as he climbed onto the feather mattress, beneath the furs and tried to block out the last two conversations. Sleep was coming quickly when his door opened and closed. He opened his eyes to see Arya latch the door and begin removing her clothes. He smiled when she climbed into bed beside him.

“Not sure how much time we have before we're interrupted,” he said as his arms moved around her.

He felt her lips against the scratches at his neck and shoulder. “I spoke with Sansa on my way back. She's going to keep everyone away.”

“You marked me up where people could see,” he whispered. “On purpose or an accident?”

“Both. Once I realized I'd done it, I didn't care,” she answered honestly. “You marked me too,” she said showing him the bit mark at her pulse.

“On purpose.” He tilted his head and smiled at her. His tone grew serious as she snuggled into his arms. “Your brother offered to legitimize me so I could marry you,” he said softly.

She nodded and laced their fingers together. “I know. I heard the conversation.”

He wasn’t surprised by this and continued on. “You have no intention of ever getting married,” he said, to which she nodded, “but I would ask this of you: should you become pregnant, you’ll reconsider.”

“Why?” she asked and pushed herself up to her elbow to look down at him as he rolled to his side to face her.

“I was raised a bastard. Your brother, Jon, was raised a bastard.” He shook his head. “It’s horrible to feel like you’ll never belong. And if you were to become pregnant...it would be our child, yours and mine, and I wouldn’t want for them to feel like they weren’t wanted or were a mistake.”

She moved her fingers along his jaw and leaned her forehead against his. “And none of this is because you want me to be your wife?”

He held her close and kissed her softly. When he broke the kiss, his eyes were staring into hers and he felt lost in the dark gray. “I want that. But I know you don’t. You’re never going to be the lady of a keep because that’s not you.” She closed her eyes as his fingers moved along her spine and tilted her head back, relishing in the way she reacted to the tingling sensation over her skin. “I don’t care how we belong to one another as long as we’re together,” he whispered.

She shook her head and sighed. “Fine. Should I become pregnant, we’ll marry.”

He smiled. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever actually agreed to something without a fight.”

She shrugged. “Don’t get used to it,” she said with a smile as she kissed him. “You need sleep,” she whispered against his skin.

“As m’lady commands,” he smiled against her hair.

“Don’t make me kill you.”

Chapter Text

JON

Jon approached the bed and handed Daenerys a glass of wine. She was sitting, her legs tucked beneath the furs as she wore Jon’s discarded tunic. The survey of the field that afternoon had buoyed his spirits a bit, seeing that the outer trench was complete and circled the entire keep and the second one was nearly complete. The barrels of pitch were loaded on the side of the keep where the Dothraki and Unsullied hadn’t set up their tents. He was proud that their people were working together, even if most of the North still considered them foreign invaders. He knew that when they saw what Daenerys and her armies could do, they would rally behind her as he had.

She took the glass of wine and sipped it and wrinkled her nose.  He smiled. “It’s not to everyone’s taste.”

“I suppose I’ve become used to Dornish wine. It’s a bit sweeter,” she said as she placed the glass on the table beside the bed, took his hand in hers, noticed the scar on his hand and she looked up at him. “You were burned?”

They sat facing one another, one of Jon’s legs tucked beneath him as he sat staring at his queen. And she was his queen. He looked at the scar himself and nodded. “It was the first time I had ever fought against a wight. Ghost,” he said, looking at the great wolf that was curled at the end of the bed, though he took up more room than Jon or Dany, “was scratching at the door. When I followed him out of the room and into the Lord Commander’s, one of our men we had found dead was in there, only he wasn’t dead any longer. I used every weapon I had to try to kill him. I finally grabbed a lantern and threw it at him and it burned my hand.”

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. “I can’t be hurt by fire,” she said softly. “I’ve walked through it twice now. I don’t feel the heat.”

He furrowed his brow. “How?”

She shrugged and gave him a soft smile. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m really am a dragon,” she teased.

He smiled. “I’ve seen your temper. I’d believe that.”

She shook her head. “Everyone is always talking about my short temper.”

He looked down at the furs spread across the bed. “Well, you have set a lot of people on fire.”

Daenerys smirked. “When we first met, I wanted you to be one of those. I’m glad I never followed through.”

He frowned. “So many things could have gone wrong. I thought you would behead me or burn me alive.”

“Those were two options. But, I was in need of allies in a country I hadn’t been in since I was a baby. Roasting the second person alive that came into my throne room wouldn’t have been a very smart decision politically. And I think Tyrion would have never spoken to me again.”

“Who was the first person to come to your throne room?”

Daenerys reached for her wine and took a sip, this time without the face. She held it in her hands, deciding to finish it before they went to sleep.  “A red priestess named Mellisandre.”

Jon’s eyebrows rose. “Mellisandre?”  

Daenerys must have realized he knew who she was and continued on with her story. “The first night I was in Dragonstone she appeared. She’s the one who told me to summon you. That we both had parts to play in the upcoming war.”  She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “You know her. How?”

“She’s the one that brought me back after my men...” he lowered his head. “She traveled with us as we went to Winterfell. But...once I knew what she had done, I couldn’t allow her to stay. She’d done enough for me that I wouldn’t allow her to be put to death. But she burned the Princess Shireen alive to satisfy the fire god.” He frowned. “I’d met the princess when Stannis was at Castle Black. She was just a little girl. Davos loved her like she was his.”

She frowned. “And Stannis didn’t take retribution?”

At this, he sighed. “They consented.”

Daenerys finished the rest of her wine at that and stared at the empty glass. “I’ve lost a child. I couldn’t imagine giving his up willingly.”

Jon shook his head. “Not that it’s a consolation, but you still have two dragons.”

She frowned. “I lost an actual child,” she said softly. She stared at him for a moment and he could see the pain in her gaze. He wanted to erase it. He wanted to comfort her, to keep out anything that would ever hurt her. “You said that the witch might not be the person I should trust for information,” she smiled sadly. “I was pregnant with the stallion who would mount the world. Rhaego. Drogo had promised to cross the sea and give me my throne.”

She shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “He would have, had he lived. He would have killed every person standing in his way. Westeros would not have survived his invasion. When we were on the road, the Dothraki seized a village and were taking women as their slaves. It’s who they are. I saw one of his riders attacking one of the women and I made him stop. It was taken before Drogo and he gave me my way. The other man was furious and challenged him, and cut him with his blade.” She smirked at the memory. “When Drogo decided to fight him, he didn’t use a weapon. He killed him with his bare hands. But I was worried the wound would fester, and the woman I saved offered to tend to it,” she blinked several times and Jon realized it was to keep from crying. “It did fester. She told me there was a ritual we could do to save his life. Only death can pay for life,” she looked away from him. “Rhaego was born. Jorah told me that he never lived. Covered in scales like a lizard with the wings of a bat.” One tear did roll down her face, but she wiped it away quickly. “And even though that might have been true...he was still my son and I never got to touch him. I paid for Drogo’s life with Rhaego’s. But Drogo...he was gone, too.”

“I can’t have children because of her curse. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she whispered. “You should know by now that I don’t simply take people at their word.” He gave her a half smile, knowing that she was speaking the truth. It had taken her going over the wall to believe that the dead were real. “I’ve...had other lovers since Drogo. That’s how I know she was telling the truth.”

He furrowed his brow and looked up at her. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

She reached out her hand a cupped his cheek, a soft smile on her face. “What sort of man are you, Jon? You apologize for things you can’t change or control. And you’re sincere.”  She leaned forward and kissed him briefly, neither actually noticing that Ghost moved to the floor in front of the fire. “I’m fortunate to have you. It’s actually a comfort to me that you are a Targaryen. I don’t...feel so alone in the world.”

He shook his head and put her empty glass on the table. He moved over her, his lips finding hers as he pushed her back on the bed. He was cradled between her thighs and a soft moan escaped her at his kiss. “You’re not alone,” he whispered against her lips. Her hands moved over his back. “I want you. Forever. However long that might be.”

She smiled. “Then I’m yours. Forever.”

“Does that mean if I asked you’d be my wife?”

She chuckled and leaned up to kiss him. “If you asked.”

Jon pulled back from her just a bit, his eyes finding hers. “Then, would you, Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. Breaker of chains. The mother of dragons...and other titles I don’t remember,” he said with a slight laugh and even she giggled, “would you take me as your husband?”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I should make you work for it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I still have to prove my love?”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I will be your wife, my love.”

He smiled and kissed her, his tongue dipping out to taste her. There was wine, to be sure, but something that was distinctly Daenerys. She reached between them and guided him inside her, both moaning as he filled her. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him close. He made shallow thrusts inside her and she shivered in response. “Jon,” she gasped as his lips trailed against her jaw and neck, all the while she thrust her hips up against his. She broke apart in his arms, crying out his name as he slammed his hips against hers a few more times until he shouted her name and held her hips tightly against his as he felt his seed spill into her.

*~*

Jon didn’t know how long they’d been asleep, but Ghost was whimpering at the door, scratching at it fiercely. He sat up and looked to the window, could see that it was still dark outside. But the wolf pacing in front of the door, and a growl escaping from him at his movements.  He climbed from the bed and pulled his discarded tunic over his head then his leathers. He grabbed Longclaw and moved to the door. This felt too familiar. Much like he’d told Daenerys about earlier.

Daenerys was now sitting up in bed looking at them both. “What’s happening?”

Jon shook his head, a frown on his face. “I don’t know. Stay here, and latch the door behind me.”

Daenerys climbed from the bed and grabbed her robe to put on as she met Jon at the door. “Be careful,” she whispered.

He opened the door and Ghost ran down the corridor, with Jon following close behind. They were met in the hall by a guard. “Your grace! Come quickly. Your sister has been attacked!”

Chapter Text

SANSA

The castle was eerily silent. The army of the dead was only two days away.  As if a horde of undead soldiers bearing down on the keep wasn’t bad enough.  Daenerys’ fury at her dragon being used had been something to behold and not Jon or Tyrion could convince her not to fly off on Drogon for a bit.  She didn’t know what had happened once Jon had taken to the sky on the back of the green dragon, Rhaegal.  

When they returned, they seemed to be more united. Jon looked to the Dragon Queen as if for approval and she him. They had left dinner early, together, nearly every night.  And since their brief conversation in which Arya told her to not interfere in her relationship with Gendry and to keep everyone away from them, she’d seen very little of her sister.  But then, everyone seemed to be holed up in their room or tent, taking comfort in whatever it was that would bring them a moment of peace.  She had watched Arya slip into Gendry’s room.  She knew that her sister was bedding the heir to Robert Baratheon, but having actual confirmation of it was a bit much.  Jon had Daenerys.  Arya and Gendry.  Even Tyrion, her former husband, had managed to sneak a whore into the keep.  She knew about it, but who was she to deny anyone the last bit of happiness before their world changed, for better or worse.  She stood out on the rampart, ignoring the cold wind blowing against her.  

She heard feet shuffle along the stone and turned to see Jaime where he had stopped, a frown on his face.  He gave her a brief nod and then moved to stand beside her.  “Can’t sleep, my lady?”

She shook her head.  “The world as we know it will end in a few days,” she said softly. “That sort of change doesn’t allow for much sleep.”

He nodded. “You could always start drinking.”

She sighed. “And die with a headache? No, thank you.”

He sighed. “You have so little faith?”

“Why should I have faith that this will end well?  Nothing else ever seems to.”

“Your dim outlook on life leaves a lot to be desired.”

“What is there to hope for?” She turned to look at him. “Let’s say they win this war.  They then march south into another one.” She shook her head. “I’m simply ready for the fighting to stop.  One way or another.”

“I can’t believe that you’d give up so easily.”

“What about my life do you think has been easy?” She questioned. “I’ve lived the last several years never feeling safe. Yes, I’m home, but it’s not the home I left. The people I love are all different.”

“Different doesn’t have to mean bad,” he replied.

She looked over at him and sighed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” They were both silent and she huddled under her cloak a bit more. “What are you fighting for?”

He sighed. “Life. The alternatives are...terrifying.”

“And if they win, do you go south with them? Do you take up arms against your sister?”

He frowned and looked over at her. “Your brother and Daenerys might win this war and walk away. I don’t have much faith that I’ll be as lucky. A man with one hand isn’t much of a fighter.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit with the sword. You’re better than you think,” she responded.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been watching everyone fight for nearly a week, now. I know who has skill and who doesn’t.  Bronn has never taken it easy on you, yet you’ve bested him several times now. That can’t be a coincidence.”

He smirked. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She shrugged. “We’re all going to die soon. I might as well be nice.”

He moved closer to her and turned her to face him, his brow furrowed. “There are a lot of people between you and the army coming for us. Don’t give up hope.”

She looked down. “I gave up hope a long time ago,” she whispered. “Telling me not to won’t change that.”

“And what would restore it?  What would make you wish to live?”

“You think I long to die?”

“I think...you’re tired of the shit life you’ve had.”

She shook her head. “I am. I’m tired of monsters and men ruining this world. I’m tired of feeling helpless to stop any of it.”

“But there is always hope.”

“Hope is a child’s dream. Hope died when my father was beheaded and I was forced to watch. Hope died when my brother and mother were killed. It died when Ramsay Bolton raped and tortured me. Hope died for me long ago.”

“You have your sister and brothers. They live. You live.”

She shook her head, moved past him and into the keep. Instead of her room, she went to the solar and realized Jaime had followed her. When she was inside, she whirled on him and shoved him hard. “Do not lecture me about hope and faith. I had faith and your family killed it,” he hissed, the tears she had kept at bay for so long rolled down her cheeks. “I was a silly girl who prayed to the gods to curry favor with a monster of a king because I was foolish enough to believe that love could change him. Love changes nothing. All hope and love do are bring disappointment and heartbreak.”

He stared at her, stunned by her sudden outburst, but almost looked relieved. “You’re afraid.”

She rolled her eyes and put her back to him. “Of course, I’m afraid. The dead walk on this castle...”

“No. You’re afraid because you do have hope. You have faith in your brother, in the men to fight for you,” he moved around her and into her personal space. “The stakes are higher, the risks greater than they’ve ever been, but you still believe that this will end the way you want it to.”

She shook her head. “It’s foolish.”

He nodded. “It always has been. But what’s the alternative? Give up?”

“It’s easier,” she whispered.  

He stood up straighter than he had in days and tilted his head as he tentatively reached forward and brushed her tears away with his fingers. “Life is just disjointed horrible moments strung together with minimal moments of bliss. But it’s always worth fighting for. It’s always worth risking everything to maintain.”

“Some people have more horrible lives than others.”

He nodded. “I agree,” he dropped his hand to his side. “Some people are never given a chance to really find what it is that makes them feel relief. Some are shown those things too late and with little opportunity to do anything about it.”

They stood staring at one another, her breathing labored and she could see the passion in which he argued with her. It made her feel flushed and she hated the traitorous emotion. She doesn’t want to feel anything for Jaime Lannister except revulsion. She stormed past him and to the door. “Good luck with the battle,” she said as she exited the room.

She walked quickly down the corridor and turned towards her room. She stopped at seeing one of her maids standing in the center of the hall. Her emotions were already heightened and she didn’t feel like explaining to the girl what she was supposed to be doing and where she needed to be. It was late and most everyone else was already in their chambers, “Dyanna,” she said, to which the girl turned, her eyes glowing a bright blue and part of her jaw hung to her chest, barely held together by skin.

Sansa couldn’t breathe but took two steps backward and then turned to run. The creature grabbed a hold of her hair and pulled back, the gargling growing frantic as she pulled her closer.  She screamed, unable to think of anything else.  She pried her hair from the dead things fingertips and ran down the hall and into Jaime’s arms who looked down at her alarmed.

She couldn't form words and didn't have to as the dead thing came down the hall after her.

Chapter Text

JAIME

He watched her leave and then leaned over the table, wondering why he bothered. He knew he should have walked away when he saw her standing on the rampart. She had made it very clear over the last few days what she thought about him, debating to kill him, insisting that his family was the cause of much of her family’s problems. He didn’t disagree with that completely. The Lannister’s had caused a great deal of pain to the Starks. But he was trying to be different. He should have tried to sleep. He should never have approached her. She was a woman without hope and there was nothing he could do to force it into her icy veins. He didn’t even know why he cared.

He started to leave the solar and stopped at hearing what sounded like a whimper and a raspy sound. The whole thing made him uneasy and he started down the hall and stopped in shock at hearing a scream and then at seeing Sansa running at him, tears streaming down her face, terror etched on her features. He looked up at the raspy sound and recognized the blue eyes of the dead immediately. He pushed Sansa behind him and kicked the dead woman in the chest, sending her sprawling to the floor. But the dead woman was rushing back towards them and the feeling of dread and panic inside him nearly caused him to choke. As she charged them again, he took his golden hand and hit her in the face as hard as he could, which caused her to fall backward again.

He was rarely in a fight without his sword and felt lost without it. He backed up, feeling Sansa behind him. Jaime looked around the hall, knowing there was a weapon in the solar they had left, but he knew only dragonglass and fire killed these things. He stopped suddenly and reached for one of the torches on the wall and as the woman got close enough he could make out the pupils in her eyes, he lit her dress on fire and shoved her to the ground once more then made sure to set her face on fire. He wished he’d had his sword but this seemed to work. The dead thing screamed, but stopped charging and then it went limp.  

Jaime faced Sansa who stared at the burning dead woman. He stepped closer to her and she looked up at him, fear still hanging on her features. “Sansa?”

Several others rushed down the hall then. Davos and a few guards stopped at the body.

“What happened?” Davos asked, and stopped at seeing the burning body of the woman on the ground.

Jaime looked at Sansa once more, but she seemed beyond words. “She was attacked,” he answered. He looked at Davos and several of the other men. “The girl was dead. Blue eyes. The dead are closer,” he said softly.  “Search the castle, let the King and Queen know what’s happening.”

“And the Lady?” Davos asked, his sword in his hand.

“I’ll stay with her until her brother arrives,” Jaime said softly and ushered her back to the solar. “Find Lady Brienne and let her know what’s happened,” he said to one of the guards.

Davos nodded to the guards and they disbursed. He entered the solar and closed the door behind him then turned to find Sansa sitting in the chair in front of the fire, her hands shaking as she covered her face. He moved over to her slowly and knelt in front of her. “Sansa?” he whispered and took one of her hands. “Are you alright?”

“They’re real,” she hissed. “Part of me always hoped that it wasn’t true...”

Jaime looked down at their hands and squeezed her fingers tighter. “Are you hurt?”

Her blue eyes met his then and she shook her head. She reached back and touched her hair, a look of confusion and pain crossing her face. “It just...tore at my hair,” she gulped down a great breath. He continued to look at her, concern for her filling him. “How was she...she was one of my maids,” she said finally and new tears streamed down her cheeks.

He frowned. “I don’t know. They’re searching the castle to make sure no one else...I’ll stay with you until I know it’s safe.”

She wiped at her eyes, releasing his hand. She was shaking and he couldn't deny that he wanted to comfort her. He was kept from doing so as Ghost entered the room followed by Jon and one of the guards. Sansa immediately stood, threw her arms around Jon, and began sobbing. Jaime turned away from the moment between siblings and was relieved when Brienne entered the room, but she went to one knee. “My lady I have failed you.”

Sansa pulled away from Jon and shook her head. “You did what I told you,” she responded. “You were where you were supposed to be, I was the...one out of place. Stand, please.” Brienne did as told but still looked like she was ready to slit her own throat for failing Sansa. She hadn't failed her.

Jon frowned. “What happened?”

“I was going back to my room and Dyanna was standing there and when I said her name she turned...” Sansa answered and was holding back tears. “And her jaw...it was hanging down to her chest and her eyes were a kind of blue I've never seen before. Ser Jaime set her on fire.”

Jon looked over at Jaime and he could see the thankful look on his face. He turned to the guard and frowned. “Inform Queen Daenerys of what's happened. Her Hand as well. Let them know that Lady Sansa is alright,” he said as he hugged her again. The guard left and Jon sighed. “You don't walk around the castle without someone with you,” he said as he pulled away once more. She nodded and Jon sighed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Jaime watched as her chin trembled as she tried to keep her emotions in check, but she nodded. “Lady Brienne, would you please make sure Sansa gets to her room safely.” He took her hands in his and sighed. “Please stay there until we know what’s happening.”

Sansa nodded and cast one last look at Jaime and then she was gone. He wanted to go back to his room and get his sword. He was unsure of whether or not there were more in the castle, but Jon turned to him worry on his face. “You saved her?”

Jaime frowned. “I heard her scream,” he replied. He didn’t think her brother, or cousin, whatever relation they wanted to acknowledge, that he’d been having a conversation with her in a darkened room in the middle of the night. In fact, he thought his life was safer if he didn’t know. “I found the dead girl coming after Sansa and I set the dead girl on fire.”

“I’m glad you were there,” Jon acknowledged.

The guard returned to the room holding Jon’s boots and doublet. He handed them over to Jon who looked uncomfortable with being handed the items, and it was then Jaime realized this was the same guard that Jon had sent to inform Daenerys of what had happened. However, Jaime didn’t comment on this as Jon pulled on his boots and donned his doublet. He hadn’t actually been dismissed, so he didn’t leave.  He was unsure how long they waited, but Davos entered the room again, this time with Jorah. “We found another dead one. Not one of ours. He’s currently on fire in the courtyard.”

“How did she turn?” Jaime asked Jon. “How do they turn?”

Jon shook his head. “I know the Night King raises them. I’ve seen it. But I think his commanders, I suppose they would be called, can turn them, too.”

At this, Jorah spoke. “Beyond the wall, we met a White Walker and some of the dead that followed him. When Jon killed the White Walker, the rest of them practically fell apart.”

Jaime thought on this. “So, we kill them and the army dies?”

“We kill the Night King, the army dies,” Beric said as he entered.

They all looked over at the man with one eye who surveyed all of them. Jon shook his head. “That’s an assumption, at this point.”

Jaime frowned. “But we do know that if you kill one of the White Walkers that others die when they do?”

Jon nodded. “Yes.”

“So, on the field, we should go after them,” Jaime said, pragmatically.

“I’m not sure how close we’d get unless they decided to enter the fight.”

“What about the dragons? They breathe fire, shouldn’t that kill this Night King and his warriors?” Davos asked.

“I saw the Night King step through the flames,” Jon explained, “and threw a spear and killed Viscerion. I don’t think fire affects him the same as it does them.”

The room was quiet for a moment and then Davos spoke. “Maybe we should be consulting your brother.” He looked to Jon and frowned. “Seems he might be able to give us a bit more information.”

Jaime frowned. “Why would he be able to do that?”

Jon sighed. “Bran is a greenseer. He’s the one who told us about the Wall coming down.”

“And is there anyone protecting him?” Jaime asked.

Jaime thought that he looked stunned as he hadn’t thought of that. Jon suddenly raced down the hall, the other men following behind him. He entered Bran’s room to find him seated on the edge of his bed, staring into the flames. He could see Jon nearly sag in relief. The affection he felt for his family reminded Jaime of all he had lost. Not only had he lost his sister because of her actions, but he’d essentially lost Tyrion, for it was still difficult to look at him without thinking about his father. He still worried about them, despite how he felt betrayed by them both.

He watched as Jon moved into the room and Bran looked at the rest of the group, his eyes locking onto Jaime. There was no anger or hatred in the look. In fact, Bran didn’t seem to have any sort of emotion, and that was almost worse, in Jaime’s opinion.

“I need you to tell me what happened tonight,” Jon said and looked at Jaime and nodded to the door.

Jorah, Berric, and Davos stood nearby and Jaime leaned against the door, his arms folded as he listened. “Dyanna was visiting the stable boy and she was killed by the dead one that Davos killed.”

“How did it get over the walls?” Berric asked.

Bran looked to his brother and frowned. “There’s a section of eastern rampart that didn’t have a guard on it. He had gone to the privy. It climbed over that section and caught her going back into the castle. She never even had time to scream,” he said as he looked back to the fire. “The magic of the Night King seems to be growing stronger. They’ll be here soon.”

“How soon?” Jaime asked.

“Sooner than I originally thought. They don’t sleep, they don’t eat, they walk. The Night King swirls over them on the dragon and they’re taking whatever men, women, and children they find along the way. Their numbers are growing.”

Jon frowned. “How many, Bran?”

“More than we have,” he answered.

“We need more men,” Davos asserted.

Bran shook his head. “You won’t get it. There isn’t anyone. Theon hasn’t caught up to Euron, yet. But he has a plan.”

Jaime shook his head. “Let’s get back to the army marching on this keep and not a suicide mission on the seas. How long until they’re here?”

“Nightfall. A great storm comes with them. The Long Night comes with them.”

Davos sighed. “What about this Night King? What can you tell us about him?”

Bran looked down for a moment and then back at Jon. “He’s able to block my vision, send me in my warg form away from him. I lose control.”

“Can fire kill him?” Jorah asked.

Bran shook his head and turned back to the fire. “I don’t know.”

“What about the White Walkers?”

“Valyrian steel and dragon glass are effective. I’ve never seen them pass through the fire, though.”

“And if they fall, the army falls?” Jon asked.

Bran looked back at his brother and shook his head. “I don’t know. That seems to be what happened when you went beyond the wall.”

Jon frowned. “Is there anything else you can tell us that will help us with the fight?”

He shook his head. “Get the pitch and line the trenches. Fire will keep them away from the keep, so long as it doesn’t go out.”

Jaime didn’t feel any better about the upcoming fight. In fact, he felt more hopeless the more Bran spoke. Jon folded his arms over his chest and looked at his brother. “I want you to stay inside the keep during the fighting.”

“I’ll be more helpful to you the Godswood.”

Jon looked at everyone else in the room. “Would you all give me a moment with my brother?”

Jaime opened the door and led the way out of the room. The other men stood in the corridor and looked at one another. “We’re fucked,” Davos said dispassionately.

“Seems that way,” Jaime agreed.

Jorah and Berric remained silent. “One hundred thousand. At least,” Jorah finally said. “That’s what the Queen said.”

“We have half that,” Davos reminded.

Jorah frowned. “They don’t fight with skill, though. They’re mindless, attacking anything living. Maybe that plays to our advantage.”

“How’s that?” Davos asked.

“With the Dothraki on their horses, archers on the wall, the queen on her dragon, the Unsullied at the front of the pack...maybe we can take enough of them out before we suffer any huge losses.”

“We’ll have to burn the bodies,” Jaime said. “If they can only be killed by fire...”

“So, for every man and woman we have on the field, we need someone there to light them?” Jorah questioned.

“Or, we learn to fight smarter,” Davos said, though he looked to Jaime like he had a plan.

“In a day? I’m sorry, less than a day,” Jaime said, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“The fighters who use only one hand to swing their sword should have a torch in the other,” Davos said as the door opened and Jon exited from Bran’s room.

“We need to meet in the hall. With Daenerys and Tyrion included,” Jon said to Jorah. The older man nodded, obviously understanding that he was the one that needed to talk to the Queen and her Hand, walked down the hall and Jon sighed.

“Anything helpful?” Davos questioned.

Jon shook his head. “No.”

Jaime looked at Davos. “Then it appears you were correct. We’re fucked.”

Jon shook his head, exasperated with the conversation. “Will people please stop saying that,” he mumbled as he marched down the corridor to the great hall. Jaime decided to stop by his room and grab his sword. He wouldn’t walk around without it any longer. He tied the belt to his waist, trying to forget the look of terror on Sansa’s face when she’d run to him. If he’d had any chance of getting through to her to tell her not to lose hope, he felt it was gone, now.

He walked down to the hall and joined the others. Tormund was now with the group. Jon was leaning on the table looking at the map. “How many keeps between here and Eastwatch?” 

“Two,” he said softly. “No idea how many homesteads,” Jon said honestly.

We’re not ready to fight this , Jaime thought to himself and frowned. They all looked up when Daenerys, Tyrion, and Jorah entered the room. Jaime watched as her eyes immediately went to Jon. “Ser Jorah told me what happened. Your sister?”

“Brienne’s keeping guard.”

Daenerys nodded and she heaved a sigh. “Alright. So, they’re closer than we thought.”

He nodded. “They’ll be here by nightfall. And there’s a storm coming with them.”

Tyrion looked uneasy and he spoke. “Would it not be a better idea to abandon Winterfell and take everyone to Dragonstone?” Jaime thought Jon might strangle him and so Tyrion raised his hands in defense. “Looking at all possibilities.”

“We’re not abandoning Winterfell,” Daenerys said. “It’s the center of the North. All the Northron houses look to it and the Starks to lead them. This is their home, and we will help defend it,” she said definitively.

“So, what is our plan? Do we stay with what we originally decided?” Jaime asked.

“I need to be on the ground. We need to eliminate the giants, get Viscerion out of the air, and go after the White Walkers,” Jon said, though he seemed less sure. How could he not be doubting the plan at this point? They were outnumbered and though they had a plan, a decent one which would win a number of other battles, this didn’t seem like it was enough.

“And the Night King?” Jaime asked. “Once the dragon is on the ground...then we fight him and whatever magic he has? Do we even know if we can kill him?”

“What’s our other option?” Jon questioned. “There is nowhere to run. We make our stand here, and if we can’t defeat him then...”

Tormund stepped forward. “I say we give this Night King fucker the fight he wants.” Everyone was looking at him. “If we’re going to fight, let’s use everything we have. What are we saving it for? A possible march south?” Everyone was silent and allowed him to continue, “Not if we don’t win this one. So, let’s fucking end it. Everything we have. The dragons, the horse lords, the cockless army...all of them.”

Jon looked over at Daenerys. “I’ll ride Rhaegal. If they get beyond the first fire, I’ll join the fighting on the ground then. We’ll also need everyone who can to fight with a torch. Burn bodies after you’ve taken them down, and our fellow fighters if they fall. We can’t have him raising them to fight against us.”

Daenery nodded. “We’ll need to take down Viscerion as soon as we can. We can’t let him cut through us, either.”

It grew quiet in the room. Everyone contemplating that everything would change in a few hours. The chance of everyone in the room surviving was small, and it seemed to be settling over them all. “I’m going to have a drink. Anyone like to join me?” Tormund asked as he looked around the room.

Jaime nodded. “I’ll join you,” he said as he followed the Wildling out of the room when no one else decided to join them.

*~*

He coughed as the drink Tormund had given him burned down his throat. “What is this?”

“Don’t like it?” he asked, a smirk nearly hidden beneath his red beard.

“Stronger than I’m used to,” he replied.

He shrugged. “The Freefolk don’t have all your fancy wines. Whatever we do, there’s a purpose behind it.”

Silence filled the room and Jaime looked at the ginger in front of him. He’d never met a Wildling before Tormund. He thought they would be uncouth savages, and Tormund probably fit that description to some extent, but he also knew from hearing others talk that he was a fighter you wanted on your side. He’d also faced off against the dead army more than once. “You’ve fought the dead.”

“A few times now.”

Jaime leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Is it as everyone says? Are we fucked?”

Tormund drank down what was in his cup and nodded. “Probably. And not in the way I like. It’s a shame I never got to have her.”

“Who?”

“Brienne of Tarth.”

Jaime nearly choked again as he looked at the other man. “Brienne? You want Brienne?”

“Since the moment I laid eyes on her.” He smiled. “She wants me, too. She’s just...not ready to admit it.”

Jaime shook his head. “What gives you that idea?”

“I’ve seen how she looks at me.”

“She looks at everyone like that,” Jaime answered. He thought of Brienne as his friend and didn’t know how happy she would be knowing they’d been discussing her in this manner.

“I like her fight. Her strength. Her beauty.”

Jaime had only ever heard anyone describe Brienne as a beauty as an insult. But he could see the other man was sincere. But then, he was a Wildling and the seemed to have different standards of living, maybe that included beauty, too. She was an amazing fighter, a good friend, loyal to a fault, but he’d never been attracted to her. Cersei was always his ideal, but even now, thinking of his sister, his stomach churned. The Lannister forces might not have made much of a difference against what was coming for them, but more men would have been a comfort.

“I hear you’re the brother of the queen down south.”

Jaime didn’t know where he was going with this, but he let him continue. “Yes.”

“Why are you here? Didn’t your sister betray them?”

“Yes, she did. Me as well.” He heaved a sigh. “And I’m here because I made a promise to help in this fight. I intend to keep my promise.”

Tormund frowned. “You fucked your sister?”

Jaime downed the rest of his drink and winced. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

“Fucking world’s ending. What does it matter?”

“I don’t know you.”

“I don’t know you either, but I’m interested in a man who would fuck his sister.”

Jaime frowned. “She’s my sister, yes. But...I never thought of her as my sister, really.”

Tormund tilted his head. “I fucked bear. I'm not going to judge you for fucking your sister.”

Jaime scoffed. “How did you fuck a bear?”

Tormund looked him in the eye. “Gently.”

Jaime started laughing as did Tormund. He wasn’t certain that Tormund was telling the truth, but the man was funny. “So, you want Brienne?”

“More than I want the sun to rise,” he admitted.

“And you don’t mind that she’s...bigger than you? Stronger?”

Tormund shook his head. “No. I like that. Her strength is what makes her beautiful. I know she could gut me like a pig and I fucking love it,” he said as he poured more of the foul tasting liquid into his cup. “All women in the south, it seems, are weak, wilting flowers. Not my lady.”

Jaime leaned back in his seat again, feeling the drink move through his system and give him a familiar feeling of warmth. “Arya Stark would take offense.”

“That girl is more wolf than girl. The Dragon Queen is fearsome to behold for a woman so short. And then Lady Sansa has ice in her veins. Those women are rare creatures. None as rare as Brienne of Tarth.” He then looked at Jaime. “Where is Tarth?”

“South of King’s Landing. It’s part of the Stormlands. They call it the Sapphire Isle.”

“Why do they call it that?”

Jaime frowned. “The water around it is blue like sapphires. I’ve only seen it from a distance, though.”

Tormund sighed. “I don’t want to go further south than Winterfell, but I’d go for her,” he admitted.

“Does she know you’re attracted to her?”

He nodded. “Yes. I can’t make it more obvious.”

“She’s a good woman, a fierce fighter, and a loyal person. She hated me when we first met and now we’re friends, I think.”

“You don’t seem to have a lot of those. Why?”

“My family and I have caused a great number of people a lot of heartaches.”

Tormund sighed. “Probably for the best then. Too many friends and worry about too many people dying. And then they worry about you dying. The fewer people you care for, the less worry.”

“I care about what happens to people,” he said softly. He looked down at his drink and then looked up to see Tormund staring at him. “What?”

“You’re a fucking horrible drinking partner. You’re just sad. If I give you this cask, will you leave?”

Jaime laughed. “I suppose I am sad. You can keep the drink, though. I’ve had enough,” he said as he stood and then turned to Tormund. “I wish you good fortune in the war to come.”

Tormund held up his drink in salute and then Jaime left. He needed sleep and something to distract him from the impending doom that seemed to be settling over the keep. He’d told Bronn he wanted to die in the arms of the woman he loved. Now that wasn’t a possibility. Cersei would see him dead. He wasn’t completely sure that he still loved her like that. Instead, he felt a burning resentment settle in his stomach when he thought of her. She was so short-sighted and petty. All she could see was her throne and didn’t understand that the throne mattered little if they didn’t win this fight.

At this point, though, Jaime wasn’t sure that was a possibility. But as he told Sansa, life was worth fighting for.

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

As the other men left the room, she was alone with Jon, Tyrion, and Davos. If everything was to go according to plan, and they won this war, and then the one that would eventually be brought to Cersei, Davos, and Tyrion would have to work together as their Hands. She wouldn’t give Tyrion up and she knew Jon wouldn’t allow Davos to go, either. It was a compromise she was willing to make.

Daenerys sighed as she looked at the table. “It’s a good plan,” she said, looking at all the pieces. “We simply have to stick with it.”

Jon frowned. “I feel like I’ve let everyone down.”

Tyrion spoke before Daenerys could. “How so?”

“We probably should have left the keep days ago, evacuated everyone.”

Davos and Tyrion were both silent and she turned to look at them. “Would you give us a moment?”

Davos and Tyrion left the room, Tyrion closing the door behind him as he went. She put a soothing hand on his arm and he turned his dark eyes to hers and his frown deepened. “Have we condemned everyone to death?” he questioned.

She frowned then and shook her head. “We can still survive this. We can win this war.”

“How?” he asked. “I know I told you that we would face it together, and that’s my plan. But how do we win this? Our men will grow tired over time. The dead won’t. They’ll keep coming until...” she realized he couldn’t allow himself to finish the sentence. “I’ve tried to believe that we can win this, but after tonight and speaking with Bran, I don’t know that we can.”

She knew he needed her to be the one to reinforce his faith. Even if she didn’t believe it herself, she needed him to have faith. “Jon, I don’t really have faith in Gods or men, even. Both have let me down in the past. But you haven’t. Not since I met you. You’ve been the stubborn King in the North.” She moved to stand between him and the table. “And say what you want about all of this, I don’t believe you were brought back in order to die here. I haven’t walked through the fire, endured everything I did, to die here.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand and he leaned his forehead against hers. “You and I will face this together, united. I can’t believe that we were on opposite sides of the world to meet now and let this be our end,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and she only wanted to soothe him as she could see the pain he was going through. “I want to believe that...”

She stroked her thumb over his cheek and when his eyes opened, she could see the pain behind them. “Then believe it. We have to,” she said firmly. “I promised you, gave you my word, that we would defeat the Night King and his army. I keep my promises.”

He sighed. “I try to keep mine.”

She smiled. “I know. Your honor has never been in question.” She dropped her hand down to rest over his heart. “We will win this, Jon. We will win, our people will win.”

He was silent as he stared at her. He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips against hers. She was relieved to feel his kiss. She hugged him to her when he broke the kiss. “Alright, I put my faith in you. Not in gods, not in a man. In you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

She nodded. “Good. Because my faith is in you,” she said softly. “In us, together.”

“We need to call everyone together in the morning. Our commanders, the lords, soldiers...”

She stepped away from the table and took his hand. “I think we should allow our Hands back into the room.”

He furrowed his brow. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

She nodded. “Too much has happened for Tyrion to allow me to be distracted. Let’s give him something to occupy his mind.”

“And what will we do?”

She sighed. “You’ll fly Rhaegal, practice controlling him. I’ll be beside you on Drogon.”

“You won’t be with me?”

She shook her head. “I won’t be during the battle. You need to fly.”

He nodded. “So, we allow Tyrion and Davos to call everyone while we ride off on your dragons?”

“They’re our Hands. That’s the sort of thing they’re supposed to do.”

Jon dropped her hand and walked to the door and she could tell by the look on his face that she had been right and they were both standing outside the door. “Come in,” he said and moved out of the doorway and over to Daenerys.

“Call the Lords, the leaders of our armies and have them in this room by daybreak. They need to be informed of how soon this is coming.”

Davos nodded and looked to Tyrion. “And what will do?”

“Jon’s going to fly Rhaegal. He needs to be more comfortable on the dragon,” she said. “We leave the gathering for the meeting in your capable hands,” she said as she led the way to the door.

“Your grace,” Tyrion interrupted them leaving. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to go off considering all that’s happened tonight.”

Jon looked at her then Tyrion, a frown on his face. “I understand your concern...”

“Do you?” Tyrion asked. “Your sister was attacked. They found a dead thing in the courtyard. Your brother says that they’re less than a day away. If the two of you go out there, and there are others, and we lost you...”

Daenerys sighed. “Tyrion...”

“If we lost you, the Dothraki will not respond to anyone else. The Unsullied are aligned to you. No one else.” He looked at the ground. “Let Jon go without you.”

Davos frowned. “So, it’s alright with you to possibly lose Jon? What do you think his men will do? They’ll leave Winterfell. There’s no allegiance to her. They’re aligned to the King in the North. They fight for him. Why is her life greater than his?”

“The last I checked, she had the numbers, she had the dragons. She has come here, put off the war in the south, in order to protect the people of the North. That’s why.”

Daenerys stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “You’re both loyal to us. We chose you as our Hands for a reason, because you have our best interests at heart. But this is not up for debate. Neither Jon nor I am more important than the other. If you two can’t agree on that, then keep it to yourselves. Jon has to have more experience on Rhaegal. There has to be a bond of trust there. There also needs to be one between the four of us.”

She paused for a moment and tried to reign in her temper. “You want us to rule, you want us to sit on the throne, then you have to understand that this is important. I trust Jon. I trust you, Tyrion. And Davos, I know Jon would not trust a man unworthy. His faith in you gives me faith.” She watched as the older man lowered his head and then looked to Tyrion. “Please, trust us. Summon everyone and we’ll be back at sunrise.”

She could tell Tyrion still wanted to protest, however, he refrained. Daenerys turned back to Jon and took his arm as he escorted her out of the keep and into the night. They approached Rhaegal and suddenly the dragon turned to them and heard a growl from him. Behind them, Ghost followed and the great wolf bared its teeth to  Rhaegal and Daenerys stood between them. “No,” she said to Rhaegal, smoothing her hand over his snout. “No,” she comforted the dragon and Jon actually looked nervous. He moved over to Ghost and patted his fur. She couldn’t hear what he whispered, but Ghost relaxed which then caused Rhaegal to relax. Jon leaned his head against the great wolf and she could see him sigh in relief.

“We need to go,” she said and Jon nodded, giving one last scratch behind the ears to Ghost before he stepped to the green dragon that allowed him on his back. The great wolf sat down and watched as Daenerys moved over to the now awake Drogon and climbed on his back as well. “You go up first. Remember, it’s Valhd .”

Jon frowned. “You couldn’t teach them the common tongue?”

She shook her head. “They’re not common, so no.”

“ Valhd ,” he said to the dragon and Rhaegal took a few steps across the ground and flew into the air and Daenerys followed behind them on Drogon.

Chapter Text

ARYA

There was a pounding on the door and Arya opened her eyes and looked around, confused for a moment until she felt Gendry move from behind her. She sat up and watch him walk to the door sliding one leg, then the other into his leathers and quickly do the laces until he was decent. To be honest, she preferred him to be indecent, gloriously naked and between her thighs in a multitude of ways. Even now, she watched as the muscles of his back moved with the firelight dancing over his skin. The pounding continued and Arya slipped beneath the furs and listened as Gendry opened the door. “Ser Davos?”

She heard him step into the room and the door closed and she peaked her head from beneath the furs as the older man stared at the bed. “Your sister was attacked tonight,” he said, to which Arya sat up, making sure she was still fully covered.

“Attacked by who?” She could feel her blood boiling. Did someone dare put a hand on Sansa? They were dead. That’s all she could think of. If they hadn’t already been killed, she would slit their throat and watch the life leave their eyes.

“The dead,” Davos said, and his grave voice caused a short burst of panic to course through her veins, but then it was replaced with true concern for her sister.

“They’re here?” Gendry asked. His voice brought her eyes over to his and she could see the concern and how his body seemed to tense. If she wasn’t so concerned with her sister, she would have admired how the muscles in his arms and chest tightened. But there were more important things to tend to at the moment.

“One. It killed your sister’s handmaid, and she’s the one that attacked Sansa.”

“Is Sansa alright?” Arya asked softly. She may not agree with everything Sansa did, but after what happened with Lord Baelish, she thought they were closer than ever. She had even told her sister, after all, that she loved a boy. She would never have told someone like Jon. That was something strictly between sisters.

He nodded. “Jaime Lannister saved her. Lady Brienne is with her now.”

Arya nodded. “Thank you, Ser Davos.”

“Your presence is required in the hall at daybreak. The dead will be here sooner than we thought.”

Her eyes met Gendry’s as Davos turned to the door and left them. Arya moved from the bed quickly and began putting her clothes on and shook her head. “I’m going to check on my sister.”

Gendry slid his tunic over his head and then donned the doublet that had been sent up to him. “I’ll go with you.”

“Why?” she asked as she pulled her leathers up over her hips. “I can protect myself.”

“You can. But I have no intention of leaving your side,” he said as he attached the last clasp.

She sighed and stepped to him. She put her hands on his chest and leaned up to kiss him. “Fine.”

Arya tied her sword belt around her waist and slid the knife into its sheath. They finished getting dressed in silence. She felt an unfamiliar ache in her body and knew that it was from their hours together in Gendry’s bed. It was different than the hours she spent training for a fight. After those bouts, she never wanted to move again, but find the coldest water she could and soak her bones. This feeling was completely different. It started between her legs and then spread outward. Her thighs ached and whether it was because of how vigorously she had fucked Gendry when she’d been on top of him or how he had all but pinned her legs open to the bed to make her come on his tongue, she was unsure. The thought of both, though caused a half smile to form on her face. “Ready?” he asked and she turned to look at her strong bull and wished she could be in the bed with him, doing numbers of wicked things to him. Things that would surely make maids blush.

But now her mind was focused on her family and the fight to come. Gendry beside the door watching her, his hammer in his hand. There was a question in his gaze and she didn’t know what it was and thought to ask before they left.

“What is it?” She asked, her brows knit together.

“You love me, right?” It didn’t seem like a question, but an affirmation of what he already knew. She took it as one, though and gave him an answer.

She tilted her head. “Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know when we’ll actually be able to speak to one another alone, again. I simply needed the peace of mind that you loved me.”

She shook her head. “You’re so stupid,” she said with a laugh.

“You know, you can’t keep calling stupid.”

“I can if you say stupid things,” she said as she leaned up and kissed him. “I love you. You love me. Nothing else needs to be said.”

“You think you’re just going to push me around for the rest of our lives?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be the person in charge of us. I want us to be equals. Mostly,” she said with a smile. “I want to win most of the time.”

He snorted. “I know that much about you.” He cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her. “I’ll let you win. Most of the time.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let me win?”

“Yeah,” he smirked. “I’ll let you win.” She punched him in the stomach lightly and he gasped. “You’re so damn violent.”

It was Arya’s turn to smirk. “Yes, I am. And you’re stuck with me,” she said and kissed him briefly before she tugged the door open and they both moved down the hall quickly. They came to Sansa’s room and found Brienne and Podrick standing outside the door, two sentinels standing guard.

She nodded to Brienne and knocked on the door. “Brienne! I’m fine!” Sansa called from inside, and Arya opened the door and poked her head in. She found Sansa sitting in front of the hearth and the older girl sighed. Arya stepped all the way inside and turned to Gendry. “Keep Pod and Brienne company,” she said as she closed the door behind her and moved over to Sansa who stood and embraced her younger sister.

Arya stepped back from her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

She sighed. “If we were playing the game of faces, you’d be dead. Don’t lie to me.”

Sansa took a deep, steadying breath and frowned. “I’m not fine. I’m terrified. All I can see is her charging at me. When I close my eyes...” Arya thought she did a remarkable job of not crying, though she did seem on the verge. “I see her face ripped apart and those blue eyes as she ran after me. And then Jaime kicked her to the ground and set her on fire...”

“Why weren’t you with Brienne?”

Sansa frowned. “I had sent her to bed and I couldn’t sleep. I went out to the rampart to get some air and to think. I never thought,” she started breathing harder and faster.

Arya sat Sansa back in her seat when it looked like she couldn’t breathe. “Deep breath,” Arya said calmly but held onto Sansa’s hands. “She’s gone and can’t hurt you.”

“No, but their army is marching on our home. We don’t have the numbers to defeat them.”

“We have skilled fighters, Sansa. Jon, Daenerys, dragons...we have a better chance than you think.”

“You haven’t seen them, Arya. You haven’t seen how nothing affects them. They keep coming. My family is going to be fighting in this war, and there is a possibility that I lose all of you after I finally got you back.”

Arya pulled the other chair closer to her and sat in it. “I’m hard to kill. Jon’s already died once. And Bran...I don’t know how to explain Bran. We’ve all survived horrors. We can survive more. We will.”

“How are you so certain?”

Arya sighed. “I have faith in us. Every obstacle that could be put in our way has been demolished. Distance, betrayal, evil men and their wicked schemes. We’ve fought it all and conquered. Have faith.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I wish people would stop telling to have faith.”

She assumed it was Jon. “I’m sure Jon meant well.”

She shook her head. She whispered, “It wasn’t Jon.”

Arya furrowed her brow and noticed small spots of pink appearing on Sansa’s face. “Who then?”

“No one.”

“Dead again,” Arya responded and Sansa’s jaw clenched. “The truth.”

“Jaime.”

“Well, he did save your life...”

“This was before that,” she said softly.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Arya tilted her head as she watched Sansa. “What were you doing with Jaime Lannister?”

“Arguing,” she said softly. “Mostly. He did save my life, but that’s because I knew where he was and I ran back to him.”

She watched Sansa as the other girl looked down at her hands. “What is your relationship with Jaime?”

“There is no relationship,” she insisted and then stood to pace the room. “I don’t like him.”

Arya was silent and sat back in her chair and watched her sister. “Yes, you do.” To say she was stunned was an understatement. “Let’s forget for a moment that he saved your life. There’s more to this than your dislike for him. He’s done a lot of bad things...”

“I know that,” she said quickly. “I’m the one that wanted him dead...”

She frowned. “So, what’s happening? Is it attraction?”

“I don’t...know,” she said softly. “I want to hate him. I should hate him.”

Arya sighed. “Probably. But if you don’t...that’s alright, too.”

“How?” Sansa questioned angrily. “How is alright? He pushed Bran out of a window. He hurt our family, Arya. His family has wreaked havoc on ours. Why do I feel so conflicted?”

She frowned and stared at Sansa, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Emotions aren’t really something I know how to deal with all that well.”

“You love Gendry.”

Arya furrowed her brow. “Yes, I do. But it started with respect. And sort of necessity.” At Sansa’s questioning look, she decided that now as a good time to be honest with her. She could see the confusion on Sansa’s face, and whether it was surrounding her feelings for Jaime Lannister or how it was that Arya came to love Gendry, she wasn’t sure.  “When I left King’s Landing, I needed someone to protect me. I was too ready to jump into fights that I wouldn’t have won. Gendry stepped up for me.” She frowned. “But, there’s a history between us. Just three days ago, you were trying to get Jon to kill Jaime. Maybe what you’re feeling now is gratitude because he saved your life.” A thought struck Arya and she looked at her sister. “Unless you were already conflicted before this happened.”

Sansa shook her head and she lowered her head to turn away from Arya. “I don’t know what I feel. Everyone that I’ve put my trust in, with the exception of my family and Tyrion, has disappointed or hurt me.”

“Sansa, I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel about someone. I will say that you’ve endured a lot of things in the time since we left all those years ago. Things that you haven’t told anyone. And you don’t have to tell me. I’m not asking for that.” She tilted her head as she watched her sister. “You said your faith died. Maybe this is your way of trying to get some of it back.”

She sat beside Arya and sighed. “If it’s not nightmares about Joffrey and the things he did to Father or me, it’s nightmares about Ramsay and his knives. His whips,” she said, her voice cracking at the last word. Arya thought that Ramsay should be glad he was dead as she was much more sadistic than Sansa and would have removed every body part from his body at the joint. Slowly.

“Jaime’s only argued with you. Has he been disrespectful to you?” Sansa shook her head. “The dead are coming sooner than we thought. It might all be taken out of our hands. But if not, and if you are still conflicted after, then perhaps that’s a good thing. You and I have both acknowledged that I’m not great with emotions or relationships with other people. I have a difficult time trusting anyone. Put in your position, I don’t know that I would ever trust anyone again. But don’t close yourself off to possibilities.” Sansa gave her a skeptical look and Arya smiled, surprised that she was arguing in favor of hope.

“I’m not saying Jaime Lannister is the one for you, because, frankly, I think he’s...my feelings for the Lannisters aren’t exactly secret. But if you could feel something for him, then maybe you could eventually feel something for someone else.” Arya paused and looked at her sister who seemed forlorn. “Between the two of us, you were always the one who believed in the fairy tales. Knights and ladies and love. I thought it was bullshit. Septa Mordane hated my opinions on all of it. But you had hope that it was all true. I can’t fathom that you have given up on that completely.”

Sansa leaned back in her chair and frowned. “I thought I had. But then, Brienne took me to Jon. We took back Winterfell. Bran came home. You came home. Jon came back to Winterfell with an army and dragons and I had hope that this could actually...” she put her head in her hands and then looked up at her and Arya felt terrible for her sister. “It was easier when I thought all I had to live for was revenge against those who had wronged us.”

Arya understood that sentiment rather well. “It’s strange that when you think you are able to control how you feel and react to things...that’s the exact moment that the world decides to prove you wrong. You may or may not be attracted to Jaime Lannister. At this point, that doesn’t even really matter. You feel something. That’s the important part.”

“It’s easier not to feel. No one can disappoint you if you don’t let them close enough.”

Arya held up her hands, letting her know that she understood. “I’m not going to argue that. It is easier. I spent a long time trying to suppress how I felt because it’s dangerous to care. I understand, probably better than anyone how having hope is a dangerous prospect.”

“So, how do I keep from feeling it?”

She shook her head and looked at her hands. “I said I tried to suppress it. I didn’t say I was successful.”

“You believe we’ll win this war?”

“Yes,” Arya responded.

Sansa shook her head. “How?”

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t have doubt. I trust Jon. Strangely enough, I trust Daenerys. I can’t imagine that Jon came back from the dead simply to die in this war.”

Sansa frowned. “That’s usually when things turn bleakest.”

Arya smirked. “Usually. But, as I said, I trust Jon. I always have.”

They both grew quiet and Sansa looked at Arya. “That’s a nice bruise on your neck.”

Arya made a face at her sister. “Is it worse than when you last saw me?”

She could see Sansa was trying not to smile. “Yes. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“You will be, too, one day. Preferably not with Jaime Lannister, if you can avoid it.”

Sansa frowned. “I’ll try.”

Arya chuckled. “Of all the conversations I ever pictured us having if we ever saw one another again, this never would have entered my mind.”

“Nor mine,” she said softly. “But, I’m glad I have you back and that...we’ve managed to become closer than I ever thought possible.”

Arya smiled and nodded. “Me too.” She undid the belt at her waist and slid the knife off of it and handed it and its sheath to Sansa. “Take this.”

“Bran gave it to you.”

“And now I’m giving it to you. It would give me peace of mind if you had a weapon. Why not this knife?” Sansa took it from her and held it in her lap. Arya re-tied her belt and smiled at her. “Stick them with the pointy end.”

“Funny,” Sansa said, though there was no mirth to her voice.

She shook her head. “When Jon gave me Needle, that’s what he told me. It’s good advice.”

Sansa chuckled. “I suppose it is. You’ll see me before you go into battle?”

“Of course. I have to reassure you that we’ll all be fine.”

“Are you telling me that to make me feel better or do you actually believe it?”

Arya stood and hugged Sansa again. “A little of both,” she whispered. “Sleep.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Find Jaime Lannister and threaten him,” she said and Sansa narrowed her eyes at Arya. “I was joking.”

“It’s not funny,” she said. “Are you going to mercilessly tease me about this now?”

Arya smirked. “Of course. But only behind closed doors. You’ll continue to tease me about Gendry. Let me have this,” she said, giving Sansa’s hand one last squeeze before she turned to the door. “Sleep. And remember...the pointy end.”

Sansa rolled her eyes as Arya opened the door and left the room. She found Gendry leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, but Brienne and Podrick still standing on either side of the door.

“How is your sister?” Brienne asked.

“She’s...as you could expect,” she answered. “There’s a meeting at daybreak. Make sure Sansa is there.”

“Yes, my lady.” Arya frowned but Gendry smirked at her. She and Gendry started down the hall, but Brienne stopped them. “Arya.” She turned and looked at the larger woman. “Does she feel that I failed her?”

Arya shook her head. “No. You didn’t. You were where she told you to be. She holds no ill feelings towards you. Don’t hold this against yourself. She’ll be angry if she finds out you’re holding onto guilt for something you shouldn’t feel guilty for.”

Brienne nodded but still lowered her head. Arya knew it would take time before she would stop feeling responsible for this. Sansa would have to be the one to eventually ease her mind. The revelation about Jaime was a bit much. “Let me ask you something,” she said to Gendry.

“Anything,” he said in response.

“Would you be able to forgive the Lannisters for the things they’d done to my family if you were Sansa or I?”

He huffed out a breath. “Which Lannisters?”

“Jaime? Tyrion?”

He frowned. “Tyrion, maybe. Jaime...I don’t know. Cersei, I feel, is the root of evil in that family. How long did Jaime stay at her side and protect her?”

“Longer than he should have. He also tried to kill Bran when he was boy.”

“I don’t know how any of you have let him walk through the keep. I never met my father, but I want them to suffer for what they did to him.”

She stopped and he turned to look at her. “War makes strange allies.”

“True. But this is more than war. I mean, if we lose...”

“We won’t.”

Gendry smiled. “If we were to lose it would be the end of life as we know it.”

“Seems to me that’s always the case.” He looked down the corridor. He put his free hand on her hip and pressed a kiss to her lips. “What was that for?”

“As I said, end of life as we know it. I want to do that as much as I can before we go into battle.”

She smiled. “I’ll let you.”

He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m actually hungry.”

“Let’s go see if they’ve started cooking,” she said as she tugged him by the hand behind her.

Chapter Text

GENDRY

The cooks had only started kneading the bread when they entered, each of them bowing to Arya, though she seemed not to notice. Instead, she looked around to see if there was anything around to eat and found dried meat and a rare apple. She took both then bit into the apple and handed it to him as they walked down the hall. He caught her by the wrist and held her hand up to his mouth as he took a bite of the fruit.  She stared up at him and the heat in her dark eyes stretched through him and caused his cock to press against the front of his leathers.

He trailed his tongue down along her hand where the juice from the apple dropped and she looked fierce in that moment. She pulled away from him quickly and instead of going into the hall, she turned to walk outside. She walked through the courtyard, and he noticed that there were more guards along the walls, though they were facing away from them.  

She pushed open the door to the forge, finding it eerily empty. There were still hammers and bits of metal and wood lying along the work surfaces, which irritated Gendry. People needed to learn how to better handle their tools. He was broken from this thought as Arya pulled his head down to kiss her. He dropped his war hammer beside the door and started backing her up to the table in the center and let out a groan when he felt her fingers at the ties of his leathers. He lifted her onto the table and began assaulting her neck with his lips and once more worried the purple spot along her throat. She whimpered in response and when she slipped her hands inside his leathers and stroked over him, he bit her.

“Gendry,” she gasped, her hand stroking over him in a slow rhythm, her grip strong. He practically tore at hers and when they were loose enough, he pulled them down her legs, over the top of her boots, holding her ankles in place. He knew that anyone could walk in and find them, which was part of the excitement. He also knew that whoever opened that door would be dead by either her hands or his. She moved to the edge of the table, her legs spread as wide as they could with her ankles still caught.  She teased the length of him against her clit and he groaned against her throat, moving to the other side and delighting in the idea of giving her matching marks.  But when he was seated inside her, stopped moving for a moment as he looked at his wild wolf of a woman.

His lips met hers and he moaned into her mouth as he slid inside her. She grunted and broke the kiss. “You couldn’t take my boots off?” she questioned, not able to get him as deep as she obviously wanted.  He wasn’t particularly thrilled with it either, but then he was where he wanted to be.

“Busy,” was all he said. He could tell she was still irritated, but she didn’t let that stop her from thrusting against him. “Fuck,” he groaned as he felt her tighten her walls around him as he started to pull out.

“We could be fucking better if you had taken off my boots,” she said through gritted teeth.  

“Shut up or I’ll fuck you from behind,” he grunted against her lips.

She bit his bottom lip and he pulled away from her only to realize she’d caused him to bleed. He stopped thrusting inside her as he worried his lip with his tongue and she gave him a smile. He pulled out of her completely and held her legs up in the air and slipped between them, her ankles now wrapped around his back and he slid into her hard.

“Yes,” her loud moan filled the room and he hoped that no one got a bad idea to investigate. She was moving her hips against his vigorously, no longer complaining, instead muttering his name as he could feel how close she was, which he was thankful for because her moaning his name into the forge had been a fantasy of his for longer than he would like to admit.

He slipped a hand between them as both of her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him to her closer than before. Her head was thrown back as his thumb circled around her clit and she came apart, her nails dragging down the back of his head to his neck. He growled as he emptied into her, burying his face into her neck and shoulder. He moved his arms around her waist and held her against him, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to leave the forge. In a short amount of time, they would be in the middle of a battle and he didn’t know how that would turn out, but he was hopeful that they weren’t simply reunited to be torn apart from one another.

“You alright?” she asked and he realized how tight he was holding her. When he lifted his head, he realized that she wasn’t laughing at him as he thought she might. Instead, she traced her thumb along his jaw, almost looking as desperate as he felt. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t know how to voice it, though. He wasn’t a person who recited poetry. He would never be that sort of man, but he felt like Arya in her strength and beauty deserved it.

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her lips then her nose. “Fine.”

He ducked from between her legs and pulled his leathers up once more as she leaned back on her hands and watched him, her feet dangling in the air, her pants still tangled around her ankles. He smiled slightly at the picture of her and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“From the waist up, you’re the picture of a warrior.”

“And from the waist down?” she questioned.

“Mine,” he said as he grabbed her feet and adjusted her breeches so she could put her feet on the ground. She started to move to redress herself, and instead, he grabbed them and dragged them up her legs, his fingers brushing against her as he did the laces. She bit her lip in response to him and when he finished she turned away from him to adjust her other clothes.

“You’re possessive,” she said softly and then turned into his arms. “I like it.”

He smirked. “Good. Because you’re mine. And I’ll kill anyone that thinks to take you from me.”

She shook her head. “I’m the cold-blooded killer in this relationship.”

“When it comes to you...” he brushed her hair behind her ear. “I won’t be parted from you again.”

She smiled. “I know. You’re mine as I am yours.”

He leaned down to kiss her and backed her up to the bench. The door did open then and Gendry hated his hammer was standing beside the door near the sellsword. “Did I interrupt?” He looked more amused thinking he had. 

Arya reached for the apple that had turned brown from where they'd both taken a bite and he could see she was thinking about throwing it at Bronn. “What do you want, my lord?”

He smirked. “I do like it when people call me that.” Then he shook his head as if to get himself back to why he interrupted them. “I heard people in here. I was making sure it wasn't dead people.”

“Very much alive,” Gendry said as he walked over to the man and lifted his hammer to hold the door open for Arya.

“My lady,” he said and glanced back at Arya who walked past them both and out to the courtyard. “Actually, I was curious how your sister was.”

Arya stopped and turned to look at him, a look on her face both of interest and irritation. “Why?”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I was in charge of the city watch while your sister was married to Tyrion. What happens to her matters to a great many people.”

“She's fine. Scared but fine.”

“I've faced off with you and your sword. If you survive, you should teach her how to protect herself.  Might not be a lot of us left to show her.”

Gendry looked down at Arya and wondered what was going through her mind. “Are you in love with her?”

The sellsword scoffed. “Fuck no. But that doesn't mean I want to see her dead either.”

“Jaime was there to save her this time.”

He nodded and took a few steps towards them. “Luckily for her. What happens when he's not? Or you're not? Even Brienne? She should learn how to fight if for no other reason than to keep someone else like a Ramsay or Joffrey from hurting her.”

“What do you know about it?” Arya hissed.

“More than I'd like, girl. Joffrey was a cunt. He allowed other people to do his dirty work for him, even if it was beating up defenseless girls like your sister. Tyrion saved her from one such public beating. There is no telling how much we didn't witness.”

Gendry frowned. He knew the sellsword wouldn't have brought up the subject if all of this didn't mean something in the end. However, he had a point and could see that Arya agreed with him as well.

“I'll see that she's properly trained after we win.”

“ If you mean?”

She shook her head. “When ” she said confidently and Gendry only smiled at the sellsword as Arya walked inside. Bronn grabbed his arm to keep him from following. “I've done just about every depraved thing you could think of. I would advise against fucking a lady in public.”

Gendry’s jaw tensed. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I heard the two of you. I don't blame you or even judge you. But she has a lot of family roaming around here. The King In The North is one of them. I don't know how he'd take it to see his sister being fucked in a forge,” his voice was low. “Chances are we all die tonight, so fuck while you can. But keep in mind that whether she likes it or not, she's still a lady.”

Gendry pulled his arm away from the sellsword. “I trust, my lord , that this stays between you and me?”

He smirked. “Do you think I fancy having her cut my throat?”

“She’s not the only one you need to worry about.”

He shook his head. “I’m not afraid of you. Her? I’m terrified. But I have no intention of spreading to the gossips.” Gendry started walking away. “You might want to do something about the claw marks down the back of your head.”

He didn’t turn around but found Arya waiting for him by the door, her brow furrowed. “What took you so long?” she asked.

“I don’t like him,” he mumbled.

She shrugged. “Who cares about him?” he looked back once more to see Bronn following them inside, but a good pace behind them as they entered to find other people already milling about the hall.

He leaned down to whisper in Arya’s ear. “Did you claw up the back of my head?” he let her see and when he looked at her, she was trying to hide a laugh. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s very funny,” she said with a smile and put her hand over his heart, not caring who was watching them. “I rather like my mark on you.” She paused. “And it’s not as if I don’t carry a great bite mark on my neck.”

He smirked down at her. “You, m’lady, are wicked. I love that about you.” She grinned up at him and moved to kiss him but he pulled away slightly and noticed they had an audience. It was only when Arya’s eyes turned to them that they looked away.

“What do you care what they think?”

“Only when it concerns you. You’re mine,” he whispered, “but I won’t have anyone getting notions about you being ruined.”

“Ruined?” she questioned. “How?”

“If I’ve had you, that’s what they would think,” he said, his voice soft. “I wouldn’t want to bring dishonor to you or your family.”

She frowned. “You are a man of honor. I know that about you. I don’t care what they think or say. You’re mine. I’m yours. If they don’t like it, I’ll kill them while they sleep.”

He chuckled. “Gods forbid any of them says something you don’t like. They wouldn’t survive the day.”

“Precisely. And if something is said to someone like Jon and he has a problem with it, then I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh, will you? Do you think he wouldn’t come find me first and try to cut my dick off?”

“He can’t have it. That belongs to me,” she said, her tone leaving little question as to whether or not she believed what she was saying. She did. If anyone else said that about him, he would have taken offense. But not her. “And I’ll tell my brother that I’ll stop fucking you when he stops fucking the queen. Let’s see how he appreciates that.”

“I’d rather you not discuss what you and I do with your brother. Let’s start there,” he said as he cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead.

She frowned. “That’s the only kiss I get?”

He smiled. “If we live through tonight, I’ll give you your favorite kind of kiss.”

She grinned. “I do love the Lord’s kiss,” she whispered then moved away from him and towards the door that led to the Lords and Ladies' chambers as he exhaled. He took a place along the wall and rolled his eyes as Bronn joined him. Jaime entered soon after and joined them against the wall.

“Lovely morning to find out how fucked we are, isn't it?” Jaime asked Bronn.

“We still have two dragons. That has to count for something.”

“And how long until one of them falls and then they have two dragons?”

“If you're going to be this fucking happy, you can go stand over there with that pompous Royce cunt,” Bronn said. Arya reentered the room with Brienne, Sansa, and Podrick. The young squire said something to Arya and she smiled and Gendry's hold tightened on his hammer.

Bronn nudged him with his elbow. “You glaring at her or Pod?”

“Shut up,” he muttered. “Sansa looks alright.”

“Better than earlier. At least she's not sobbing,” Jaime answered and he watched as Sansa's eyes met his and they both turned away quickly. There was something there. Even Gendry could see it. Whatever was happening, Arya had already scented it out and whispered something to Sansa that caused her to blush and look down. But she didn't avert her eyes from Jaime's for long and even Gendry had to smirk to see Jaime Lannister uncomfortable.

Leave it to Bronn to realize this as well. “You happened to be there when she was being chased by a corpse?”

“What are you saying?”

“Convenient that you were around.”

“We'd been talking.” At this Gendry looked over at Jaime and the older man straightened. “That's all.”

Bronn looked unconvinced but Gendry frowned and defended the Lannister. “If he had done anything she didn't want, he'd already been dead. Arya can read people, tell when they're lying. Obviously, he didn't touch Sansa or he wouldn't be standing here.”

Bronn seemed to take this into consideration. “Valid point. Sansa wanted you dead as well. I suppose you've been honorable. Such a fucking tragedy.”

Gendry looked on as Jaime lowered his voice. “Are you drunk?”

“Yes. But that doesn't mean it's not a tragedy that you haven't tried to get beneath that Stark girls skirts. You have women fawning over you all the time.”

“Not usually women who want to kill me.”

“As I said, an angry fuck is still a good one,” Gendry rolled his eyes and saw Jon and Daenerys enter the room. Arya was moving from the head table when Sansa grabbed her arm and made her stay. She gave Gendry and apologetic look and stayed beside her sister. He winked in response. The wildling, tormund entered the room and moved around the hall to stand beside Jaime, and Gendry nearly laughed at Brienne’s obvious attempts to not look uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

“My Lords. My Ladies. Shall we begin?” Daenerys’s voice sounded through the room.

Chapter Text

JON

Daenerys began speaking and the hall quieted. “I’m sure all of you were informed about the attack on Lady Sansa Stark a few short hours ago. The dead are closer than we thought. They will be here by nightfall, and we have a lot of preparation yet to do.  King Jon and I hope that we will have your full cooperation in carrying out our plan, which we believe will work,” she said as she walked around the right side of the table as Jon moved around the left, coming together in the center around the table of the map.

Tyrion and Davos soon joined to the side of their respective king and queen, and Jon felt his stomach rolling. He didn’t know if he was still reeling from the time on the dragon or if it was the nerves of the battle that was pressing upon them. “As you all know, we’ve had trenches made along the perimeter of the castle and pitch to fill them. The Unsullied will be the first line of defense, and Commander Greyworm and his men will make their focus the giants, and burning as many bodies as possible. All bodies, once they fall, must be burnt. I know many of you will dislike the idea of not having the remains of your loved ones to take back to your keeps, but I assure you, that you don’t want them raised as dead and to fight against you,” he said as he pointed to the outer circle. “Queen Daenerys and I will be on the dragons, burning as much of the force as we can, while watching for breaks. We’ll call down for a retreat should the dead break through the line. We’ll get as many of our men back across the trench before Drogon will light the first trench on fire.”

Daenerys nodded. “The second line will be the mounted Dothraki, each of whom has sworn to kill for me. On foot, they are fearsome, but on horses nearly unstoppable.” She nodded at her three blood riders that Messandei had been teaching the common tongue and they nodded to her in respect. “The Khalasar will run through the dead, and bodies will still need to be burned. They have agreed, as well as the Unsullied, to dedicate a certain amount of their fighting force to hold torches and light the dead.”

“And if they break that line?” Lord Glover questioned.

Jon looked at the older man. “Winterfell is the center of the North. Its people will defend its walls. While the Unsullied and the Dothraki fight on the field, we’ll have archers on the walls with either flaming or dragon glass arrows. But should they make it inside the second trench, the Knights of the Vale will be our mounted force as the Wildlings and Northmen fight together to eradicate this threat. Do not allow them over the walls. However, should they make it into the courtyard, my sister Arya, Ser Sandor Clegane, and Gendry Baratheon,” at this everyone looked over at Gendry and his surprised look nearly made Jon laugh, “will be defending the inside with a small contingent of soldiers. Until which point we have them inside the walls, we request that you all join the archers and either fire arrows or have them lit ready to loose.”

Daenerys spoke this time. “To those of you that have Valyrian steel, the White Walkers that sit upon horses are his commanders. It is our experience that when you kill one of them, the dead he turned will die with him. They should be a target if you’re able to get to them. Dragon Glass is also effective at killing them.” He paused, prepared for the next part of his speech to be met with disagreement, but this is what they needed whether these people liked it or not. “Your commanders on the field are Brienne of Tarth, Ser Jorah Mormont, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, Ser Beric Dondarrion, and Ser Jaime Lannister.” People began murmuring and Daenerys held up her hand, asking for silence. “Ser Jaime has fought against a dragon. He’s been in many battles. He’s come North to help us when his sister broke her word. He deserves your respect.”

Jon nodded. “I trust Ser Jaime to be an asset on the field. Ser Jorah speaks in the Dothraki tongue and will be an advantage in that regard, as well as a skilled swordsman. Ser Beric is blessed by the Lord of Light with a flaming sword and a history of commanding men in battles. My Lords and Ladies, I can continue to tell you of their attributes and why we have chosen these people to lead our armies on the ground, or we can get back to the actual reason we’re here: the battle itself.” The room quieted down and Jon looked at Lord Glover. “Lord Glover and Lord Manderly, I request that the two of you be on the walls directing the archers. You’ve both had experience in combat and you’ll know when the best would be to shoot.” Lord Manderly and Lord Glover both nodded in assent. “Lady Lyanna, we would put you on the wall with Lord Glover and my hand, Ser Davos Seaworth.”

She nodded. Jon was happy to see her normal confidence was in place, even though it seemed to waver only slightly when most eyes turned away from her. The little bear was a force in this world and he hoped to see her ruling over Bear Island into an old age. She reminded him so much of Arya that his eyes turned to glance back at her where she stood sentinel beside Sansa. Arya turned her head and gave him a soft smile and a nod. He had thought for so long that she was dead, to find her here, alive, healthy, and deadly actually gave him a bit of hope. If she could survive this world with its treacherous men and wicked plots and schemes, even as a young girl, then impossible things could happen.

His eyes scanned the hall and landed on Jaime, Bronn, Tormund, The Hound, and Berric whispering amongst themselves while Gendry looked around the room, trying his damnedest not to stare at Arya. That would suss itself out after the battle, but until then, he was glad that Arya had someone watching her back and he had someone watching his. He looked to the Hound who looked annoyed to even be in the room. He listened as Daenerys spoke, trying to rally their troops to their cause, to get them to see hope. The Northmen didn’t take kindly to outsiders, but he knew that if they won this battle, they would thank her. She could save them all.

She looked over at Jon and gave him a slight nod and he looked out at the group. “My Lords, my Ladies, this is a battle for all life. Those you love, those you’ve lost. We will win this fight and we will do it because we came together. There are many of us in this room who have reason enough to hate one another. We could hold grudges and let our hatred for one another cloud us. Yet, we’re here. There is no greater honor for me than to be your king and lead you in this battle. Queen Daenerys and I are confident we will succeed, but our confidence comes from you. We’re fighting for our lives, but we’re fighting all lives, our families and for generations to come. I pledge my sword to fight to my death to protect everyone in this room and fighting to protect this castle.”

He took a deep breath and looked back at Sansa. “Any children under the age of ten should be brought into the hall before the sun sets. They will be safe, protected with Lady Sansa here in the keep. To everyone else, I wish you all good fortune in the war to come,” he said.

Several of the Northern lords gave him nods. Lord Glover led several of them out into the yard and he could hear Lord Glover barking orders at his men to make sure their troops were ready. Berric approached him then and sighed. “All of this truly ends when we kill the Night King.”

“Which we both know won’t be easy to accomplish,” he said softly. “But if we take out his army and his ability to raise a new one, we’re ahead of the game.”

“And the dragon?” Jaime asked as he, Bronn, and Tormund join them at the table.  

“We bring it down as soon as we can, and try not to kill the other two while the Queen and I are on them,” Jon said softly. He watched as those he cared about came down from the head table, Sansa stood to his left with Arya and Brienne. “I will join the fight on the ground if they make it through the second line. Until then, I’ll be on the green dragon flying over them to kill as much as we can from the air,” Jon said softly.

“Put Gendry on one of the Scorpions,” Bronn offered and Gendry gave him a strange look. “You built them. Defend them,” he suggested. “You have a great bloody hammer, and we all know, the dead are getting through that second line.” Jon thought his outlook left a lot to be desired. “Chances are, a few will get within the walls and once that king of theirs realizes we’ve built weapons to take down his dragon, he’ll be anxious to send his soldiers to destroy them.”

Daenerys tilted her head. “How do you know that?”

“It’s what you did. After I fired at you the first time, you came after me to destroy the weapon. I managed to hit your dragon, but he also destroyed it. He may not risk bringing it so close since we have four of them, but then again, we don’t know much about him, now do we?”

Sansa turned to look at her brother. “What do we know, Bran?”

He looked around at those gathered, but there was no emotion to his voice. “He was created by the Children of the Forest to fight the first Men.” He shook his head. “I’m blocked from seeing anything else about him. When I get close, I get pushed out of the visions.”

“So, he’s at least got the same power that you do.”

“Greater,” Bran noted. “He pushes me away.”

“But we know what kills his commanders and his soldiers. We have a good theory about what kills the dragon. We need to know what will kill him,” Jaime sighed. “Fire?”

Jon and Daenerys both shook their heads. “Not that I’ve seen,” Jon said. “When we were beyond the wall, he walked through it.”

Jorah shook his head. “He didn’t walk through it so much as it seemed to fade around him.”

“So he controls fire?” Jaime questioned out loud.

Jon frowned. “Maybe. But we go after the giants, after the soldiers, and if we’re able, we go after the Walkers.” He was silent for a moment and then looked to Gilly who was standing in the back of the room speaking with Sam. “Gilly,” he said suddenly, catching everyone off guard. The woman looked surprised to be called on by Jon, however, she and Sam stepped forward. “How many...brothers were born while you lived with your father?”

“Since I was born, I had nineteen.”

“Any idea how many were before you?”

She shook her head. “He never talked about the boys.”

“Sam has killed one. I’ve killed two.”

“Meera killed on,” Bran supplied.

“Who’s Meera?” Bronn asked to which Jaime only shook his head.

“So, that means, there are at least fifteen Walkers. Probably more,” Jon said softly. “Tormund, talk to the Wildlings, I need them to give up one of the weapons in their hands to fight with a torch. They’re the most skilled outside of the Dothraki with using two weapons.” Tormund nodded to Jon and then the rest assembled and left the room.

“Sounds like the entire field will be burning,” Sandor said, looking at the map and grumbling to himself.

“Which is why you will be within the walls,” Daenerys said. “We need you in this battle. Anyone who can stand toe to toe with Lady Brienne and live to tell the tale, we need.”

The Hound shrugged. “Just keep the fucking fire away from me,” he said as he turned to leave as well.

“Bran, Sam will be with you.”

“Gilly, too,” Sam said, though it looked like it pained him to say it.

“Baby Sam will be safe with Lady Sansa,” she said. “I’d like to help.”

Jon nodded. “Thank you, Gilly.”

“Bran, I need you to see if there is anything within a day that come help us.”

“Like what?”

“Some...force we haven’t thought of.”

Arya spoke, then. “What about Ghost?”

“You want him on the field,” Sam said. “I’ve seen him fight. He’d do anything to protect Jon.”

“I don’t want to comprehend ‘ anything ’,” Jon insisted.

Sansa put a hand on Jon’s arm and he looked over at her. “There’s nothing more to do now but second guess yourself. Don’t. We’re a lot better prepared than we were when you fought Ramsay.”

He sighed. “Do you happen to have another army hidden away you didn’t tell me about?” There was no malice in his tone, instead, it was a bit of teasing towards his sister. He knew the battle had been lost until the Knights of the Vale rode in, and they did for her.

She shook her head, a small smile on her face. “Not this time. You have everything I do. More, actually. Two dragons, a horde of Dothraki, The Unsullied, Northmen, Wildlings, and small contingent of Lannister forces. In any other battle, the other side would surrender.”

“It’s not a normal enemy,” Jon said softly.

“No, it’s not. One in which, I had hoped you had hallucinated. Unfortunately, I learned all too well that when you say something, no matter how insane it seems, you’re telling the truth.”

“Took you until now?” Arya questioned.

“The dead chasing you down a hallway will make you believe a whole host of things,” she said softly. He watched as she glanced around and saw that the group had disbursed most of them going outside, Daenerys, Tyrion, and Davos had moved to the other side of the table giving the Starks time alone.

“What would Father say if he were here and could see each of us?” Sansa questioned

Jon sighed. “I wonder about that a great deal.”

“King of the North, the three-eyed raven, a faceless man,” she scoffed, “and a politician?”

Arya nudged Sansa with her elbow. “A survivor. A fighter.”

“The Lady of Winterfell,” Jon said with a slight nod. “I’m glad we found each other, again.”

Sansa nodded. “I need all of you to try not to die. I’ve lost enough family. I don’t care to do it anymore.”

Arya looked at Jon. “She’s talking to you.”

“Why do you assume it’s me?”

“You’ve already died once. We don’t want you to make it a habit.”

“No plans, sister,” he said and Sansa stepped forward to hug him. “You be careful and keep yourself behind that door with Podrick at all times.”

“And you kill the Night King,” she whispered.

Jon pulled back from her and Arya shook her head. “I’m not hugging you,” she said to Jon and he frowned and it was obvious to him she could read the question on his tongue because she answered before he could voice it. “I’m going to see you again. We’re going to win this war. Why would I hug you before that?”

He sighed. “Fine. You don’t have to hug me,” he said as he stepped forward and hugged her, lifting her from the ground. “They swarm,” he whispered. “Be prepared for it.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said, finally relented, and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her tight.

“I’ve never doubted you,” he reassured and placed her back on her feet.

Bran was looked up at them and Jon stooped beside his chair. “I do have a request. Keep searching, see if you can find some weakness of his, something we can use. And if you can, you send Sam to me.”

Bran nodded. “I’ll try to see better,” he responded. “Good luck.”

“Seems like when we part, you become something more. I only hope that’s the case this time,” He stood then and gave one last nod to Sansa as he began walking to the door, Davos on his heel. “How many men do we actually have from the North?”

“Six thousand.”

Jon winced. “With or without the Wildlings.”

“They’re as Northern as you are,” he responded. “Around seven thousand Unsullied and...the Dothraki are hard to count...”

“What did Messandei say when you asked her?”

“They don’t count,” he answered. “Jorah suspects around ninety thousand.”

He turned to look at the other man and then stepped onto the wall to look out over the Dothraki tents. “Ninety thousand?” He questioned softly. “She had over one-hundred thousand men when she reached these shores and she held back.”

“She came here with one-hundred thousand, said to be the largest Khalasar in existence. Even if she didn’t lose that many fighting against Jaime Lannister...they’re not used to fighting in weather like this. And it’s going to get colder. Whether she held back or not seems irrelevant at this point.”

He frowned and he heaved a sigh. “You and I stood there on that beach and heard her say she wanted to fly her dragons to the red keep and end Cersei. What if I hadn’t stopped her? We could be in complete control of the Lannister army...”

“And still feel outnumbered,” Davos responded. “We can’t worry about the past. We can’t change any of it. But we can fight the future.”

“Aye. And we will,” he said, the sun rose over the horizon, though it’s light wasn’t as bright as Jon would have liked.

*~*

He felt as if the hours flew by, watching last minute preparations being made.  The Dothraki and Unsullied had packed up their tent and the cells of Winterfell were being used to hold their supplies. Even the kennels were being used to house their things. Jon had wondered what would happen to the items that belonged to the men who fell. He stood at the gates and watched the Dothraki spread amongst the second layer of the forces. He knew a few of them had seen the dead thing in the pit and he was certain that all the men knew what was coming for them. It was quite different to know and to see.

He watched as Daenerys stood amongst the Dothraki, all of them on their knees for her. He couldn’t understand anything she was saying, but watching her command the warriors, each of them holding nothing but respect for her, had him transfixed. Davos stood behind him and sighed. “I’m certainly glad you made allies with her. Could you imagine what would have happened had she marched North with them?”

“No. We would have all died. And a Dothraki would be sitting Lord of the Keep?”

“Then let’s thank the Gods you had the stupid fucking idea to go south.”

Jon turned and looked at Davos. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me, Ser Davos. I’m not sure how much of this I would have been able to accomplish without you.”

“Oh, I’m sure a great deal, but I’m happy to serve as your hand,” he saw Lady Mormont and gave her a nod. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a little Bear requesting my presence.”

The shouting of the Dothraki caught his attention and he watched as the warrior ran from Daenerys and climbed onto their horses and began circling inside the second trench. Daenerys’ eyes caught him and she walked over to him and sighed. “The sun sets.”

Jon spoke softly. “But it will rise,” he said softly.

She smiled back at him. “I love you. I thought you should know that before we go flying off into the night.”

He smiled for a moment. “I know. You know without me having to say it.”

She nodded. “I do.”

She stepped forward and placed a kiss on his lips, not allowing him to make it deeper. “It’s not a kiss goodbye,” she said when she pulled away. “It’s for good fortune. Let’s win this fight.”

He nodded and helped her onto Drogon then he turned to climb onto Rhaegal. The snow to the North grew heavier and the sky in that direction seemed to grow darker. They bring the storm. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to settle himself. When he opened them again he was resolute. They would win, and he’d give his life to make sure that it happened.

He patted down the green dragon, leaned forward and said, “Valhd. ”

Chapter Text

JAIME

Jaime looked down at the lions that adorned his shoulders and tried to ignore the shame he felt at them. Maybe he would restore the family name. He only hoped that they managed to make it a decent fight before everyone lost hope and they all became new soldiers for the Night King. His hope had dwindled down to naught by an ember, though he wouldn’t allow anyone to know it. The King and Queen seemed confident enough. Perhaps that’s all that was needed. He opened the door to exit his room and stopped at seeing Tyrion outside the door.

“Not exactly a maid here to wish me good fortune,” Jaime teased, feeling uncomfortable with Tyrion’s presence.

Tyrion frowned. “I’m going to try to get through this without embarrassing either us. You’ve made a lot of mistakes.” Jaime looked at him with harsh eyes, wanting to know how the man who had killed their father could dare say that to him. “Let me finish. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, and people in the North remember them. Unfortunately for them, I have a rather long memory as well. I’ll remind them that when our hour was bleak, you came to help. When our sister turned her back on this war, you pledged your sword. You’re the commander that the King and Queen chose because you were the best option, not the only one,” he finished with a sigh. “I regret that what I did destroyed the relationship that you and I had. I would give almost anything to repair it. However, I can not. You always fought for me when you shouldn’t have. You never made me feel worthless.” Jaime frowned and listened to his brother and watched as he struggled to maintain his emotions behind a carefully constructed mask of disinterest.

“So, I realize that the outcome of this could be worldwide devastation and none of it will matter come morning...,” he looked at Jaime and he felt the anger he had felt at Tyrion dissipate a bit, “and as ridiculous as it sounds, maybe it’s because I’ve spent too much time around my queen that she inspires me to believe in the impossible, but I believe in you. You’re the right commander, the right man, the right Lannister to be leading this army. I love you, Jaime. And if you don’t love me anymore, just...lie to me for old time’s sake.”

Jaime frowned and then went to one knee in front of his brother. “I will not lie,” he said softly. “I love you, little brother.”

Tyrion hugged him. “Please live.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He stood, nodded at Tyrion, then walked down the corridor into what he hoped would not be his doom.

He found Bronn and Brienne seated on their horses waiting for him. Jaime’s reigns were held out to him and he rode out of the yard, casting one last glance at the keep and seeing a hooded figure standing on the wall.  He realized it was Sansa as she turned away and walked back into the keep.

The familiar rush of his blood moved beneath his skin. It’s how he always felt before a battle, never more than when he and Bronn had faced off against the dragon. He could see the Dothraki with their torches between the two trenches. He knew it was more than that. He couldn’t see to the front of the line. All he saw was thousands of bodies for as far as the eye could see. They arrived at Berric and Tormund, who was standing on the ground.

“Good fortune in the wars to come,” Berric said to them all. The snow began to pick up around the North of the castle and a great screech could be heard over top of them and he watched as Drogon flew to stand in front of the Dothraki, Rhaegal beside him. He could actually feel the temperature drop as they waited, and though his blood was pumping, he could almost feel himself freezing on the spot. He glanced back at the Wildling Tormund and saw him jumping in place, and the rest of the Wildlings began doing the same. Tormund instructed the lords of the North to do the same, and Jaime realized he was showing them how to keep them from freezing.

Bronn watched as well and he nodded to them. “Maybe we should get off the fucking horses.”

Jaime frowned. “Not yet.”

“We’ll freeze to death before we decide not to,” Brienne said as she climbed from her mount and Bronn, Jorah, and Berric did the same. Jaime followed suit and two of the younger boys in the group came to take their mounts back inside the keep.

Tormund was then standing beside Brienne. “Move, but only enough to keep your blood pumping. Too much, and you won’t have enough fight left in you,” he said as he rolled his shoulders. Jaime saw a bright burst of blue flame cut through the line on their right and realized it was Viscerion. He didn’t see the dead before they began filtering in, but he could hear the charge of weapons and suddenly the sight of bodies being burned in front of them. He could see the orange flame of fire Rhaegal and then Drogon as they circled around Winterfell. Jon and Daenerys were flying the dragons in opposite directions burning through the armies. He could hear the clashing of metal and suddenly, through the haze of the Dothraki, a large giant burst through the field.

He thought, for a moment, that his heart had stopped beating. In the last year, he had seen things he never thought possible: Dothraki screamers, living dragons, two Targaryens, a greenseer, a running dead man, and now a dead giant. Maybe this was the end to everything, and this battle and these unsual things were a signal to the world.

Several large thumps sounded through the field and it was then that Jaime realized more of the giants had fallen, and as their great bodies were lit with torches, it helped to illuminate the field. The surge of the dead through the woods seemed endless. Flaming arrows soared overhead and he didn’t know how close the dead were if they were actually taking aim from the keep. The storm continued to rage, but the sight of the other two dragons gave him a bit of hope until blue flame cut through the Dothraki line again. The sound of the Scorpions firing gave him hope as he watched the dead dragon retreat away from their lines.  Snow swirled around them, and not the stuff of poems that the North touted as songs of legend. This was harsh and biting and he was afraid it would be never-ending.

A loud wail, that of a dragon, sounded through the field and Jaime turned in time to see Drogon seemingly falling to the ground, Viscerion with his great jaw around Dogon’s neck. Rhaegal was on the other side of the field, and though he was flying as fast as the dragon seemed to, he felt a great hopelessness grip his heart as the black dragon appeared to be fighting the other dragon even as Drogon tried to right itself while it fell to the ground. He couldn’t make out if Daenerys was still seated on him or not, but if they lost another dragon, this war was over before it had fully begun.

Not so soon!

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

She took a cursory path over the field looking at the thousands of assembled men and women that were going to fight for the coming dawn. The wind was harsh but continued to get even worse.

and then saw the dead begin to filter out from the trees around the entire keep. Daenerys was determined she would not lose faith, though she was shaking and not from the cold. They would win this war, no matter the odds. She could barely see Jon across the field on Rhaegal and she came to land Drogon in front of the Dothraki.

“ Fight for me as free me! Defend the North! Defend its people! ” she cried and the Unsullied raised their spears and began charging through the dead and fires began to be lit as bodies fell.

Jon landed beside her on Rhaegal and she glanced over at him. “Opposite directions,” she called and he nodded. “Be safe.” She leaned over Drogon and felt the beast fly into the air and burn the bodies.  She was startled to see a Giant run from amongst the trees and toss aside her Unsullied and then through the Dothraki before the horse lords took the great beast down. She flew over the dead calling, “DRACARYS!” and Drogon’s flame lit up the world. She looked down at the dead, the Unsullied holding their own against the overwhelming force. They moved together as a unit, their movements graceful yet deadly compared to the swarming of the dead.

Two more giants pushed through the trees, but a well-placed spear to one’s eye sent it to the ground, and the body was ignited. Another giant fell, and when his body was ignited, she knew that at least the burning bodies was giving better visibility on the field. As the large beasts came quickly through the trees, the Unsullied rushed them, collapsing them before too much damage could be done.

She heard a great screech and stared on in horror as Viscerion screamed over her warriors, lighting them afire as he flew. Unsullied and Dothraki alike. It caused something within her to ignite, a rage she hadn’t felt since she’d been betrayed by the witch that caused Drogo’s death. Doreah’s betrayal. All significant moments in her life where she felt the fire in her blood boil, the dragon wanting to feed and destroy.

The Night King retreated back towards his forces and the dead continued to come and fires continued to burn. The air grew heavy with smoke and snow, the wind grew harsher the longer she flew. She watched the lines, making sure that there were no weak spots that needed reinforcement. Thus far, unless a giant broke through the line, they had managed to hold well.

She could still see the dead moving towards Winterfell through the trees and flew Drogon over them, burning the field as they went, almost as one. She saw the blue flame again and only leaned closer to Drogon, a sure sign to her child that they needed to fly faster, harder.

They circled again and as she was coming to the east of the castle, Drogon was hit broadside and it was all she could do not to fall. She locked eyes with the Night King where he sat as he used Viscerion to attack Drogon, and she watched in horror as her smallest dragon, the one she’d lost and mourned for, attacked one of her children. His great jaws tried to grip onto Drogon’s throat, only the larger dragon was too big for him to get hold. This realization did nothing to calm her as she realized they were actually falling to the ground. “DROGON!” she called out to him, hoping he came to the same realization she did.

Her fingers gripped onto the points of his scales, holding on harder than she ever had. She wanted to close her eyes, not wanting to watch the impact when they inevitably hit the ground. There was another large bump and Viscerion had been dislodged from Drogon, but the impact had caused her to lose grip and held on only by one hand. She could vaguely hear Jon shout her name as Rhaegal spit fire at Viscerion, causing the night king to once again retreat. She could see the ground now and then felt Drogon flap his wings as he came in for a rough landing on the ground which completely dislodged her from the dragon.

All the breath had been knocked from her, unable to actually inhale as she lay amongst the snow and mud. She could almost feel the cold seeping into her back even as her eyes couldn’t focus. Her head spun and she shook it, trying to rid herself of the fog that clouded her vision.

She felt hands at her legs and looked down to see one of the dead things clawing at her. Daenerys would have screamed if she’d been able to take a breath that deep. Instead, she struggled against it. She kicked it with the heel of her boot but it fell on top of her and she held the mostly bones creature with only one arm as her left was throbbing and mobility with it was nearly impossible. Its teeth gnashed at her, the bright blue of its eyes sent a chill throughout her body that had nothing to do with the cold, and she had to wonder if this was how she was going to die. Drogon was fighting against the dead approaching him, and couldn’t help her. She knew this was probably it. A spear shoved through the face of her attacker and she looked up, hopeful to see one of her Unsullied standing over her with two more behind him protect their queen. He helped her stand but she put pressure on her left arm and cried out, realizing that it was broken to hurt the way it did. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered if she couldn’t get Drogon back into the air. She had to protect her people, she had to protect her children.

Drogon was burning the dead as they approached, also using his tail to swipe at anything that got close enough to hurt his mother. She held her arm close to her body as she stepped onto Drogon’s wing and then back to her place. “ Valhd ,” she called and the great dragon flew into the air once more.

Daenerys watched as the dead began to make their way through the line of her Unsullied and flew overhead, screaming for her forces to fall back to the next line.  Another circle around and she flew over the trench and called, “Dracarys.”  The fire followed her around the ring, burning the dead that remained in the trench and giving time to those who had fallen back to catch a breath.  Her arm was now throbbing, but she knew she needed to try to grip in order to hold onto the dragon beneath her.

She heard the screech again and watched as Viscerion followed Jon around the field and tensed as she saw a bolt fly too close to Jon and Rhaegal. Those fools on the wall better not hit either of them . Viscerion flew towards the keep and she watched burning arrows fly at the dragon and Night King.

Daenerys leads Drogon in the opposite direction, passing Jon as Drogon flew at full force into Viscerion.

Chapter Text

ARYA

When the fighting began, Arya felt herself getting excited, but tried to control it. It wouldn’t do to run through her adrenaline before she even entered the fight. In fact, she took several deep breaths and closed her eyes, trying to fight off the feeling as long as possible. This battle would rage for a long while, and tiring herself out before she even used her sword would help no one.

Seeing Jon flying on a dragon was something she didn’t know if she would ever get used to. In fact, thinking of him as anything other than her brother wasn’t something to even comprehend.

But watching the dragons fly and light the field with their fire, taking out no telling how many of the dead as they burned, was something to truly behold. Their power, the ability to change the way a battle could go, was frightening...if you were on the other side.

Arya stood between Lyanna Mormont and Davos while they watched the field begin to light up as bodies began to be burned. The dragons flying overhead gave her a bit of peace as she could see their flames cutting through the dead armies. Only when they flew by and their flames remained did she actually get a view of the force coming for them. It was disheartening to think of all the people that died to make up the army of the dead. How long had he been collecting people to fight against the living? Why? If they knew that, they might be able to defeat him easier.

Suddenly, the blue flame lit up the field, slicing its way through the Unsullied and then the Dothraki and she felt true fear as she saw how fast the dragon was flying and heard one of the Scorpions fire then the other. They both missed but it was enough to get the Night King to pull back and away from the field. She saw the dragon settle amongst the dead coming amongst the trees. Arya took a cursory glance at the tower and could almost make out Gendry's form, but at hearing the screech of a dragon looked on in horror as the Night King had flown his dragon at Daenerys and Drogon. Jon, on Rhaegal, was flying as fast as he could towards them even as they fell.

When Rhaegal latched onto the dead dragon, it was forced to release Drogon and she felt her heart skip a beat as Rhaegal chased after the Night King. Even still, the large black dragon fell and finally righted himself before they took a rough landed, but whether or not the Dragon Queen was still on him remained to be seen.

“Fuck,” Davos said from beside Arya, and she didn’t think she could sum up her feelings any better than that.

Arya saw Drogon’s flames lighting up the dead and Jon on Rhaegal was hovering over the ground as Rhaegal burned through the dead as well. She didn't know how long the black dragon was on the ground before he flew into the air once more and circled around the field. Arya hated being so far away and unable to protect the people she loved. She knew her purpose, she knew why she was currently on the wall of Winterfell with a bow in her hand. But she wanted to ensure that Jon was alive. She wanted to make sure that Daenerys was alive. So much of this war depended on her. Her armies were what stood between the North and the dead. Her dragons were the ones fighting in the air, giving them a slight advantage. As Drogon circled to the west, she thought she could see Daenerys on his back, but she wouldn't say for sure. The dead dragon’s flame lit up the field again, cutting a swath through the Unsullied and Dothraki.

“Shoot that son of a bitch down,” Davos called as the Night King on Viscerion was close enough and called for them to load arrows onto their bows.  “Nock!”

Arya pulled her bow taut, the arrow beside her cheek. It had been a long time since she had fired. She didn’t know if she was going to hit the dragon or the evil being riding him. She didn’t care which one took the hit as long as they went down.

“Hold!”

She took a deep breath in as the Night King flew closer. One arrow. Could it really end with one arrow?

“Loose!”

Arya let the arrow fly and reloaded her bow to draw again. She remembered Anguy’s lesson all those years ago. Don't concentrate on the target. She got another shot off before he turned and flew out of range. She glanced at the little girl beside her, amazed at her calm demeanor under pressure.

“How long have you been using a bow?” Arya asked, trying to take the younger girl’s mind off of the possibilities of everyone in this battle dying. A part of her was trying to take her own mind off of it.

“A few months,” Lyanna responded. She looked over at Needle at Arya’s side and then up at the older girl. “Your sword?”

“Years, now. Six, maybe?”

The truth was she had lost track of time when she'd been in Braavos. The days and nights blended together, training was her only concern. Becoming no one and leaving behind the life she’d had in Westeros. She was meant to leave everyone and everything. She could let go of most things. The thought of letting go of Needle and of her fond memories of Jon weren’t something she could actually do.

In the line of blood, he wasn’t actually her brother. But there was no other way to think of him.

“I hope I don't have to prove my skill with a sword,” Lyanna said, and she saw uncertainty in the little bear.

“I agree. Let the dead stay out there.”

Now, she had the chance to use what she'd learned. There was no doubt she was as good as she believed she was. Soon, it would be time to use what she'd learned to protect those she loved.

It was then she saw the outer ring light as Drogon flew over it. But suddenly, the large black dragon latched into Viscerion and a part of Arya was elated to see the dead dragon fighting for its life. Rhaegal’s flame lit up the sky as it blew at the Night King. But the smoke was growing too heavy on the field; snow and ash filling the sky making it nearly impossible to see. The ring of Fire around the Keep was too bright to allow her to see what was happening, but she heard the Scorpion fire and Arya felt her heart race! All three dragons were too close. Why would they fire?

They were at a high position and may have had a better vantage point, but the risk seemed too high. She could no longer see the dragons and feared for both Daenerys and especially Jon. She could feel panic building inside her, but she wouldn't let it fester. They would win this. There was no doubt. No doubt.

However, as she thought this and tried to push the feeling into her heart, to feel it truly, the outer ring’s flame was suddenly extinguished. She didn’t know how this was possible.

Davos leaned against the wall and she took a step forward as well. “What's happened?” Lyanna questioned.

“I don't know my lady. But nothing good comes from that,” Davos asked.

*~*

GENDRY

As the fires in the trenches went out, any chance of being able to see what was happening left with it. From the tower, he was able to see the field better. He saw the numbers of the dead that were now crushing through the field as the Dothraki and Unsullied fought them off together. There were fewer and fewer bodies burning, which gave him a sick feeling in this pit of his stomach.

The second trench lit, only he didn’t see who lit it. Last he saw of Jon or Daenerys on the dragons, they were still to the other side of the castle fighting it out in the air with the other one. They all watched in horror as the dead dragon flew to the tower opposite them and used it’s flame to destroy it. Gendry’s partner on the tower fired at the dragon but only just missed.

He got another bolt loaded onto the Scorpion and his partner took aim as once again the dragons were fighting with one another. Drogon had now attacked the dead dragon and he could see them hanging out in the field and his partner, a young soldier named Harry fired in the direction of the dragons. It was the second time he’d sent a bolt at the three of them and Gendry was quickly losing his temper.

“You fire that fucking thing at all three again, I’ll crack your skull in!” He shouted.

He saw a giant run through the Dothraki and then lay on the fire, allowing bridge for the dead to pass over. And now the Knights of the Vale and the Northron lords joined the fight. Viscerion flew towards the castle and suddenly he was hit by Rhaegal. They were close enough for Gendry to see Jon on the back of Rhaegal and so when he heard the sounds of bolts being let loose from the Scorpions, he had a moment of panic until one struck the dead dragon and let loose of Viscerion to fly away from the falling dragon.

“SHOOT IT NOW!” Gendry screamed at Harry and the second bolt hit Viscerion in the chest before it hit the ground. They both moved to the edge of the tower and could see the dragon lying dead on the field, but looked on in horror as he realized the dead were now crawling up the sides of the keep.

Gendry took up his hammer and cleared two of them off at once as the man with him used his dragonglass sword to stab one in the head. He looked over at the rampart where Arya had been and realized that most everyone had abandoned it and he could see them in the courtyard.

He grabbed Harry and pulled him along behind him down the stairs.  “We’re supposed to shoot the Scorpion.”

“The dragon we needed dead is dead. Time to fight the ones inside the yard,” he said as they burst out the door and used his hammer to make his way to Arya. The hound had Davos and Lady Mormont near him. He was surprised to see the little bear so able to swing a blade, but his surprise turned to questions as a host of the dead suddenly turned to ash in front of them. Arya was still fighting a few on her own, but he watched in horror as she was suddenly taken down. He ran as fast as he could to reach her. If he lost her, then none of this mattered. He could see the Hound rushing to her as well when suddenly one after the other that had been on top of her slacked on top of her as she used a dragonglass knife stab them.

He stopped beside her, the Hound and Davos having fought their way over to her. She had a gaping wound on her shoulder and thigh. “Arya,” he questioned.

“I’m fine,” she said as she stood on her good leg.

“You’re hurt,” he insisted.

She glared at him. “But we still have to fight.” Another group of the dead turned to ash and bones in front of them, leaving only about ten to kill in the courtyard. “What’s happening out there?” she questioned as she took Needle into her hand once more.  

“We need to kill these fuckers and maybe we can go look,” Davos said and the five of them put their backs to each other and began fighting in a circle, the Hound taking out ten with the swing of his broadsword. Lyanna’s center was low enough that almost any swing of her sword was an upswing, nearly causing the bodies to be cut in half. He took a swing of his hammer and three of the dead were gone. The courtyard was suddenly empty save for them and a few other soldiers. Davos went to the rampart and shook his head. “I can’t see a fucking thing!” he said when suddenly the black dragon flew over the top of them.

Gendry helped Arya to a sitting position and he looked at both wounds and saw the blood seeping from them. His eyes met her and he was terrified to see her even paler. “Don’t move!” he ordered and removed his belt. He looped it above the wound on her leg and tied it off.

“The dragons are burning the Night King!” Davos called. 

Chapter Text

JAIME

The great thud of a dragon slamming into the dirt sent the men in front of him to the ground, but he luckily fell against the castle.  The one called Viscerion screeched no more and the Night King stared at the great bolt sticking out from its heart.  Jaime watched him try to touch it only for him to withdraw his hand as if burnt. His focused turned to them and he felt a cold settle into his bones he’d never felt before, almost as if he would never be warm again.

Suddenly, Beric Dondarrion, with his flaming sword, stepped in front of the Night King to stop his advance towards the castle. “Kill his commanders!” Beric shouted.

He was pulled from his thoughts as more of the dead rushed towards them. Jaime killed a few more walkers and Bronn set them ablaze immediately after, slicing through a few in front of him as well.  There were still a few climbing up the walls, but the voice of the Hound barking orders inside the walls let him know that there were still people fighting.

Several of the walkers advancing towards them shattered into a pile of bones and across the field, he could see Jon Snow running towards the Night King as Daenerys flew overhead on the great black dragon.  Jon sliced through another White Walker and it shattered at the sword that went through it, more walkers fell.  

“Brienne!” Jaime called.  “The ones like knights!  They cause the others to fall!”  Jaime and Brienne both rushed forward, striking down anything that appeared to be undead.  They raced past the fallen dragon and passed Jon as he ran for the Night King.  There were three of them that Jaime could see and Bronn, Brienne, and Jaime rushed the same one and Brienne blocked it’s blade as Jaime sliced clear through it.

A screech went up through the air directly behind Brienne.They turned in time to see a White Walker suddenly shatter and the weapon that struck it in the back fell to the ground.  A giant axe made of dragonglass.  Jaime looked up to see that it was Tormund who had killed it, though he was bleeding from his face and the top of his head.  He gripped the axe and nodded to the three of them. “Those fuckers need to die,” he said, pointing to them about the remaining White Walkers.

Brienne moved forward and Bronn, Jaime, and Tormund followed.  It swiped its great sword at Brienne’s face and Tormund swiped at it with his axe, but it immediately turned to charge at Bronn, caught him on a parry, and it’s spear pierced his heart. Jaime momentarily stopped as the sellsword look at him with shock. Never had Jaime considered that he would be one lost during the battle. He had an amazing ability to survive. And now he wouldn’t get his castle. He died a warrior’s death and he felt a great sense of injustice that Bronn had died.

They watched as Bronn’s eyes changed to the horrific blue of a wight as the spear was removed. Jamie was horrified to see Bronn drop the torch, no sense of right or wrong, no ability to control his actions, and he began advancing on Brienne. Tormund swiped at the White Walker as Brienne ducked the now dead Bronn’s sword. Jaime stepped forward and sliced Bronn’s head from his body. He didn’t watch him fall, couldn’t, to be honest. Bronn had been his protector on more than one occasion and he’d failed him. Brienne had quickly moved to help Tormund fight off the last White Walkers.

They were joined by another White Walker, and Brienne ducked that attack as well, and Jaime rolled across the ground to avoid an attack but came face to face with another and held his sword up to block the blow. As he went to readjust, the White Walker swung again.

Jaime froze to realize he wouldn’t be able to readjust his sword again and brought his golden hand up to block the blow. The gold shattered around him and he screamed as the pain shot down the entire length of his arm. He had enough time to see Tormund cut it in two with his axe then watched him rush to help Brienne as he drew the attention of the White Walker and Brienne sliced it in half, sending the body scattered into the wind.

He felt his body slam into the ground, an excruciating pain shooting through his right arm, reminding him all too well of when he’d lost his hand. Jaime wasn’t sure if he was dying, but he felt like the pain was actually a reminder that, at this point, he was still alive. He lay on the ground as he watched his friend and her Wildling admirer fight off the last Wight in their vicinity before his eyes closed and he passed out.

Chapter Text

JON

Chaos reigned as the dead filtered in through the second ring and began attacking the forces of the North. But watching Viscerion fall and the Night King land on the ground, Jon knew that it was time to face this fight on the ground. The smell of burning and rotting flesh filled the air and if he allowed himself to think about it too much he would have been sick. He steered Rhaegal to an area that wasn’t so filled with the dead. He could still see Daenerys circling overhead with Drogon.

When he saw her fall, his heart had stopped beating, so great was his fear that he was going to lose her. But he watched her kill a Wight with a knife and the Unsullied rush to her aid. They assisted her back on the dragon and she flew into the air. It wasn’t relief because there was no way to actually feel that while a battle raged on, but knowing that she was alive for a moment gave him a moment to catch his breath.

But now, he climbed from Rhaegal and withdrew his sword. He could make out the fallen form of Viscerion on the ground and began to fight his way towards it. One of the commanders of the Night King’s Army was slashing his spear at several of the Northron forces, his back to Jon. He ran forward and cut the thing in half, and it shattered from the blow of his sword.  He continued running, barely making out Jaime, Brienne, Bronn and what looked like Tormund running towards the center of the field as the commanders seemed to be coming to the aid of the Night King.

Jon continued running, growing closer and realized that Beric was facing off with him, holding his own momentarily, his flaming sword fighting off the blows from the Night King. His eyes burned from the flame, ash, and soot in the air, his lungs heavy with it and he sped towards the monster facing off against Beric. Beric who didn't seem to fear his fate. Jon jumped over bodies, trying to get to the Night King. It was his one driving force, to take down the leader of the dead. He would not survive this battle if Jon could stop him. Jon slashed his sword at the Night King who ducked and blocked the blow from Beric. Jon advanced on him, but the Night King parried and the impact of it sent Jon to the ground. If he was able to send him to the ground with a defensive move, then what would happen if he actually used the spear for more than blocking?

He climbed back to his feet as the Night King stabbed at him with the double-edged spear, and though he missed Jon, he lunged the other side into Beric’s chest. He watched as the knight fell to the ground, his body immediately igniting. He didn’t know how, assumed it was because of the Lord of Light. His sword’s flame extinguished as it fell to the snow.

He felt a rage inside of him that burned through his chest into his extremities. This monster has killed hundreds of thousands, desecrated their lands, and destroyed their people and their homes. Jon would see him dead, even if it meant giving his own life in return. He blocked the blow from the Night King and then swung at him, causing the monster to retreat backwards. However, one powerful kick from the King and Jon was sent tumbling backwards, staring up at the sky as he felt the breath knocked from his chest, his body seeming to coil in on itself. He'd been burned, stabbed, shot with arrows, and suffered betrayal, but he was nearly certain nothing hurt as much as this.

He couldn’t breathe, unable to breathe in. He could see the Night King advancing towards him and his sword lying away from him. He could barely move, sure that his ribs were broken from the impact of the kick.

As the Night King advanced, though, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by dragon fire. It wasn’t destroying him, but he wasn’t able to move through it, the force of the flame seemingly held him back. He suddenly felt hands beneath his arms. Jorah was to his left, and to his horror, Daenerys was on his right. Drogon seemed to take a breath and the Night King leveled his eyes at the dragon and began advancing on Drogon.

“DROGON!” Daenerys called and before either of them could move, the undead monster was hit with dragon fire again, this time from the back by Rhaegal. Jon turned to Daenerys, panic in his eyes as she watched her dragons hold the Night King at bay.

“You have to get back on Drogon and get into the air,” he said, though, his breathing was coming out labored and he tasted blood on his tongue. He thought it was a marked improvement from the ash that lingered in the air.

She moved away from him, Jorah releasing Jon to protect Daenerys. She grabbed his sword and put it back in his hands.  But Rhaegal was getting overrun by the dead and flew into the air to escape, leaving Drogon on the ground. “Go!” She nodded and began to make her way to Drogon who once again took a breath.

They turned to see the Night King had taken aim at Daenerys as she had run towards the dragon and before Jon could get to her, Jorah had stepped between the spear and Daenerys. The queen screamed at seeing her faithful knight fall. She stood frozen to the spot and incapable of moving, but Jorah twitched on the ground, his eyes turning the eerie blue.

“DAENERYS! GO!” He said before he used Jorah's ancestral sword to run him through not allowing him to fully shift into one of the mindless wights.

Her eyes met Jon's briefly and made her way back to her dragon. The Night King advanced on her and Jon followed him, ignoring the pain in his chest and that every breath he took was agony. He wouldn’t let her fall. He wouldn’t let the Night King take her from this world. She climbed onto Drogon, the dragon giving one last blast of flame at the Night King before he turned and flew into the sky. Jon squared off against the Night King once more, though his body felt weak even though his resolve was solid.

He swung his spear and Jon deflected it, avoiding another kick from the Night King, as he knew another blow to his chest would mean he was done. A great howl sounded behind him and Jon was afraid to see Ghost charging at them. But it wasn’t Ghost, at least not him alone. A pack of wolves, two dires amongst them. Ghost was easy to pick out with his white fur, though covered with blood and mud. The other wolves he didn’t know where they had come from. Although, one looked suspiciously like Arya’s lost direwolf, Nymeria.

They surrounded the Night King, growling and snarling at him. Jon didn’t know if the Night King was afraid, or if he was capable of feeling fear, but he spun in the circle they had made around him and he slightly crouched as the wolves launched into attack, the smaller ones first, none doing damage, but giving the distraction Jon needed.

When Ghost and the other large Dire wolf entered the fray, Ghost went for a leg, pulling the Night King to the ground while the other went for his arm. Jon moved forward, swinging his sword at the dead thing on the ground, but it was blocked by his spear. He pushed Jon back, and he took several steps away. He watched in horror as he reached up and broke the other dire wolf’s neck with one hand

“Ghost!” Jon called and the wolf released him and moved away, fear for his own wolf causing him to lose the advantage that he’d had. A few of the other wolves were killed with his spear. He advanced on the Night King once more, Ghost circling around behind him and head-butted him in the back, sending the Night King forward into Jon’s sword which plunged through his heart, a thick chunk of dragon glass being expelled through his back.

The Night King’s form began to change, the iciness of his skin, the bluish tint, disappearing and leaving behind pink in its place. Jon removed his sword watched as the Night King fell to his knees, and finally looked up at Jon. He was unsure of what was happening, but he wouldn’t take any chances and swung his sword to remove his head.

Jon tried to take a deep breath, only it was growing more and more difficult as the moments passed. He felt weak, as if his entire body was near to giving out. The rush of the battle, now that the Night King had fallen was over, the dead had stopped moving, and he could feel exhaustion and worry seeping from his bones. Two loud thumps sounded behind him and he turned into Daenerys arms, his sword falling to the ground beside him.

“Jon!” She sank to the ground. “Jon, keep looking at me. Don’t close your eyes!”

He raised a hand to her face and brushed away a tear. The storm that had raged at the Night King’s invasion had ceased and now soft snowflakes fell to the ground as the sun began to peak out over the horizon. The sky was almost red from flame and blood, but all he could see was her silver hair and bright violet eyes. He never thought her to be more beautiful, thankful she had survived. “Is that an order, my queen?”

She frowned. “Yes. And if you disobey it, I’ll kill you,” she said briskly. “I can’t lose you, too. I won’t survive that.”

He smiled sadly. He knew her strength, and though she might not want to continue on without him, she could do it. “You would.”

She looked him over. “Where…where are you injured?”

“My chest. I can’t breathe.”

Her grip on him slackened a bit. “Am I holding you too tight?”

He nodded. “Yes. But don’t stop.” He gripped her hand that rested over his heart and she winced. "Are you injured?"

She placed a kiss on his lips as her tears continued to fall. "I'll be fine as long as you live."

Jon groaned as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable, but the pain that moved through his body caused him to close his eyes. And from Daenerys's reaction, for probably too long.

She rested her forehead against his. “I swear to all the Gods, Jon Snow, that if you leave me I’ll come into the afterlife and punish you for all eternity.”

He shook his head. “I have no intention of leaving you, my queen.”

“Not your queen. Your love,” she whispered.

They were soon joined by Ser Davos, Tyrion, and Maester Wolken. She was reluctant to let Jon go, but as they brought out a makeshift stretcher and loaded Jon onto it, several men carried him into the keep, with Daenerys and her dragons following. She did keep the dragons outside the gates, not allowing them to come into the courtyard to frightened everyone.  Jon looked over at Davos. “How many did we lose?”

“No way to tell yet, your grace.”

“My family?” He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

He looked down at the ground. “Arya was injured, but she’s been moved to her room and Gendry is with her as well as Samwell Tarly. When last I saw Lady Sansa, she was going to tend to Arya. Bran has been moved inside the keep. The dead, he said, were not able to penetrate the Godswood and he’s the one who sent us to find you and told us that you needed help.”

Jon leaned his head back. “What’s Arya’s injury?”

“One to her shoulder and one to her leg. She’s being well cared for, I assure you. You should rest,” Davos said as they entered the keep and he was taken to his room. Jon felt entirely too exhausted to notice that the men and women in the courtyard went to their knee as he passed.

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Daenerys held her arm close to her. Now that the fighting was over, she could feel her arm throbbing. She knew she needed to have the Maester look it over, but she wanted to see that Jorah’s body was properly handled. She found two of her Dothraki and bid them to follow her. There was still so much smoke on the field. She found him near the fallen Viscerion and knelt in the snow beside his fallen form. She reached out and closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see a crying Messandei.

She nodded to the two Dothraki and gave them orders to construct a pyre for him, to give him the hero’s send-off he deserved. She had them take his body from the field and they did as their Khaleesi ordered. When they were gone, she turned to Messandei and embraced the other woman, though she moaned at jostling her arm. The dark-haired woman frowned. “You’re injured,” she said as she began to escort Daenerys back to the keep.

They were silent on the way and she finally asked. “Any word?” she asked her friend and she saw the fresh onslaught of tears.

“He fell,” she said through a sob and Daenerys cried with her, bringing her into another embrace.

“I’m so sorry, my friend,” she said. “Truly.”

Messandei pulled back and shook her head. “I knew the risk. He knew the risk,” she said finally. “It doesn’t make the loss any easier to take.”

She took a deep breath. “What can I give you?”

Messandei smiled weakly. “You’ve given me my freedom, your grace, which allowed me to find love. I need nothing more than that.”  She looked to the ground, her careful mask of duty falling back into place. “We should get you to your room and seen by a Maester.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to be with Jon,” she replied.

Messandei nodded and walked with Daenerys to Jon’s room to find Ghost laying in front of the door. She could hear voices coming from inside and she knocked. Davos opened the door. She entered and Messandei was at her side. Ghost followed them in and settled at the foot of the bed. She could see Jon with his eyes closed and she nearly panicked until she realized he was breathing.

“Is he alright?”

The Maester nodded. “Yes. With a lot of rest, he should be fine.”

Daenerys closed her eyes for a moment and allowed it to sink in. She wasn’t going to lose him. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He has four broken ribs on his left side and three on his right,” the Maester explained. “I’ve given him milk of the poppy to help him with the pain and to allow him to relax.”

Davos looked at her as she held her arm. “Are you injured?”

She nodded. “My arm.”

“I ask that you remove your outer cloak, your grace and have a seat in the chair,” he said as he urged her to sit. Messandei helped her with the laces and soon she stood in a grey pair of leathers, one of Jon’s tunics and her boots.  She sat on the chair and the Maester moved over to her and rolled the sleeve up and she winced to see the swollen bruise that graced her forearm. Worst still was when he touched it, she realized the bone wasn’t aligned. “It’s broken, your grace,” the Maester said. He walked to the table beside Jon’s bed and then handed her a small vial. “A small dose of Milk of the Poppy and I’ll need to set your arm.”

“Maybe you should go ahead and settle on the bed, your grace,” Messandei supplied. If Davos or Maester Wolken were surprised by the forwardness of the suggestion, neither said anything. “Milk of the Poppy will make you tired.”

Daenerys nodded and moved to the bed and took the vial from the Maester. She drank it down and at the Maester’s suggestion, she lay back. Jon was asleep beside her, but she reached out and took his hand with her good one. Davos handed her a leather strap. “Put it between your teeth, your grace.”

She did as he suggested. The Maester had laid out linens and a piece of wood. “I’m going to splint your arm when I put it back into place so the bone doesn’t move,” he explained. She nodded and closed her eyes. She felt the man’s hand on her arm and suddenly a pain only rivaled by the actual break itself shot through her arm when he put the bone back and she screamed against the leather strap in her mouth. Daenerys couldn’t keep the tears from streaming down her face, though she tried. The Maester tied her arm to the splint and then helped her to sit up to wrap her arm in a sling.

A knock sounded at the door. Daenerys used the sleeve of her tunic to dry her tears and then nodded for Messandei to open the door. Tyrion entered the room and heaved a sigh. “Your grace. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see you,” he said softly. He looked at those gathered in the room and the sleeping form of Jon Snow. “If you would, please allow me a moment alone with our queen.”

The Maester bowed his head and turned to Daenerys. “I’ll be in the hall tending to the wounded if you need me. Try to get some rest,” he said before he left.

Davos and Messandei left the room as well and Tyrion took up the chair she had abandoned in favor of the bed. She was starting to feel the effects of the contents of the vial and leaned back against the headboard. “I’ve been given Milk of the Poppy. I suggest you talk fast.”

“I had little hope going into this war. Little hope that you or...Jon would survive. Once again, you’ve proven that my lack of hope was ill-advised.”

She smiled. “I’m so glad we proved you wrong.”

“You have. Over and over again.” He heaved a sigh. “Once you and the King in the North are feeling up to it, I would wager that there is to be a wedding?”

She leveled a look at him. “What is it you want to know, Tyrion? If we are formally engaged or if you can start planning for our eventual march south?”

“Both, actually. Will he be going south with you?”

She glanced at Jon and frowned. “He won’t leave Winterfell until he is truly healed. And neither will I.”

He nodded. “Good. It should give us enough time to sway the Northron Lords and Ladies to our side...”

She closed her eyes. “Tyrion, I’m entirely too tired and in too much pain to have this conversation now. Make plans. We’ll talk about them...days from now.”

He smiled. “Of course, your grace.”

He climbed from the chair and went to the door, but her voice stopped him. “Tyrion?”

“How is your brother? Did he survive?”

Tyrion frowned and nodded. “He did. But he’s injured and has not yet regained consciousness. Lady Brienne informed me that he absorbed a hit from a White Walker’s staff with his gold hand, which shattered. I believe he also has a broken arm. Samwell Tarly was going in as I was leaving his room.”

She was silent for a moment. “Do not visit this room again until I call for you. Take care of your brother and our army. Make sure they’re well cared for while I heal.”

He nodded. “Of course, your grace.”

“Make sure the Dothraki are posted outside the room,” she answered and he nodded again and left. She turned to look at Jon and could see the purpling of a bruise forming on his chest. She used her good hand and ran her fingers over it, then smoothed his dark hair back from his face. She shifted on the bed to lay beside him and took his hand in hers once more. She crawled beneath the furs, longing to rest her head on his chest, to hear his heartbeat beneath her ear, but knew it would cause him pain. Instead, she lay on her side and stared at him until finally the pain draught took over and she drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

ARYA

Gendry had helped her into the castle as she had insisted that he not carry her. But the walk up the stairs was taking too long and she felt weaker with every step. Gendry, sensing this, put his hands beneath her knees and carried her along the corridor. “I can walk.”

“Not fast enough,” he mumbled and she pointed to the door of her room and he kicked it open with his boot. He placed her on the bed and went about removing her boots and her jerkin. The wound in her right shoulder ached even though Gendry was careful not to hurt her. He tossed the bloody armor to the ground followed by her tunic and covered her chest with a fur, then went about ridding her of her leathers.

“Of all the ways I pictured you undressing me, this was not what I had in mind,” she said weakly, though he didn’t smile at her jest. He was focused on the task at hand. He cut her leathers just below where he had tied her leg off and tossed it to the floor. A knock on the door alerted them to someone else and she looked to see Jon’s friend, Sam.

“I might be of some assistance,” he said as he came into the room, while Gendry made sure the knot in the belt above the wound in her leg was tight enough. Sam placed a basket beside her on the bed. “Which is your sword arm?”

“Left,” she responded.

“Lucky you,” he said as he rolled her slightly in the bed to make sure there wasn’t an exit wound through the back. He began to pack the wound with linen and looked at Gendry.  Hold this here until I can get her stitched up. I think this wound in her leg is a bit more dire. Gendry put pressure on the cloth on her shoulder and watched Sam examined her leg. She winced as he poked around and let out a sigh when she felt him stop. “Nothing major seems to have been hit,” he said and Arya didn’t know if he was talking to them or himself. “Some Milk of the Poppy should help while I clean and sew up these wounds.”

“Arya!” Sansa said as she entered the room and took her good hand on the other side of the bed. “Are you alright?”

“Not the first time I’ve been stabbed,” she said, with a slight smile, uncomfortable with how serious the tone was in the room.

Sam held a vial out to Sansa. “Help her take this, please,” he said as he removed a needle and thread. “I’m going to stitch the muscle inside, then work on closing the skin inside.”

Arya allowed Sansa to help her drink the liquid and she settled back against the pillows. Gendry still wasn’t looking at her and it was starting to make her angry. Instead, he watched Sam as began stitching the wound. The needle felt hot as it pierced her skin, but she didn’t make a sound. Arya turned to Sansa, feeling tired though she was trying to block out the pain. She wouldn’t give into it. She wouldn’t feel it if she could avoid it. “How’s Jon?”

“Injured. I don’t know to what extent.”

“And Daenerys?”

“Injured as well, but not bad. She was still walking around outside with her advisor and some of the Dothraki. I believe she was tending to Ser Jorah. He fell.”

Gendry’s expression changed and it looked sad, as did Sam. “I hate to hear that. Ser Jorah was a good man. I met him at my time in the Citadel. He had Greyscale.” All three of them turned their attention to him, and Arya wondered how could anyone be so selfish as to put themselves around other people when they had that horrible disease. Sam seemed to realize that he was being watched and then smiled at him. “He was cured.”

Sansa frowned. “There isn’t a cure for it.”

“There is, my lady. If a person is willing to perform it and the patient willing to accept it. Ser Jorah was willing, and so I did,” he said as he went back to stitching up the wound.

“Why did you help him?” Arya mumbled.

Sam heaved a sigh. “His father was our Lord Commander. He was a good man and was killed because he had honor. It was horrific. But your brother...er, cousin?”

Sansa and Arya both answered together. “Brother.” Sansa smiled down at Arya.

“Right,” Sam smiled as well. “Your brother led a group beyond the wall to seek justice for his death. He was victorious. His sword came from Lord Commander Mormont. Though, when he had it, there was a bear on the pommel, not a wolf.”

Sansa reached for a linen and handed it to him when he completed stitching her leg. Sam wrapped it as Arya spoke. “What else can you tell us about Jon’s time on the wall?”

Sam smiled. “He helped us. The new ones. I suppose you can imagine that I wasn’t going to be the best member of the Night’s Watch. But Jon helped me. He was the first friend I made while there. We’ve lost a lot,” he said and ushered Gendry out of the way in order to work on her shoulder. “Ser Alliser Thorne hated him. Made his life miserable at every opportunity. Instead of making Jon a Ranger, which is what should have happened, he made him a Steward to Commander Mormont. I’m the one that nominated him to be our new Lord Commander. When the Wildling army attacked the wall, Jon led us after Ser Alliser was injured.” He cleaned the wound and went to work sewing it up. “He was the commander we turned to when the night was darkest.”

Arya sighed as she listened to the stories about Jon. She knew that all had stories to tell and that if Sam hadn’t told all of this, they probably never would have heard it. How much did they not know about one another? It caused her to look at Gendry who sat at the foot of her bed and watched Sam. What had he been through, endured? She knew parts of it. But there was more to him than that. There was something there that would require exploration and years of getting to know one another.

But now, as Sam finished with the last stitch to her shoulder and wrapped the linen around it, she felt exhausted. Sam smiled at her one last time. “I’m going to tend to some of the others. If you need anything I’ll be in the hall,” he said as he packed up his items and left the room, Gendry saying something to him and then closing the door behind him.

Sansa still sat beside her on the bed, her hands still wrapped around hers. “Gendry, would you mind giving me a moment alone with my sister?”

He shook his head and finally turned his blue eyes to look into Arya’s. “I’m going to fetch my hammer and your sword. I’ll be back shortly,” he said with a nod and closed the door behind him as he left.

“He’s acting strangely.”

Sansa was silent for a moment and then sighed. “I suppose he is. You were stabbed, injured in front of him. That would make anyone act strangely.”

She sighed. “It was a fluke. I got rushed by four at a time.”

“You’re lucky.”

Arya shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe,” she said. “Still have two dragons?”

She nodded. “Yes. They’re still...roaming around outside.”

“Good,” she said softly. “They’ll be helpful when we go to King’s Landing.”

“ We ?” Sansa asked incredulously.

Arya frowned. “You’re not going to get protective now, are you?”

“Arya, you’ve been stabbed. Twice.”

“Not the first time."

“I would like it if it were the last,” she whispered. “You could have died. If not from being swarmed, then from losing so much blood. You must realize that.”

“I do. I’m not afraid of death.”

Sansa scowled at her. “Maybe I’ve had my fill of losing my family. We only just reunited. You and I actually have something close to a relationship that is meaningful, after all that’s happened to us. I’m not ready to lose you.”

Arya frowned. “You won’t.”

Sansa shook her head and released her hand. “You can’t leave, Arya. I need you here...”

“Why?”

“Because I love you and I don’t want your reckless disregard for yourself to take you from me.”

Arya stopped at that and closed her eyes momentarily. “I love you, too, Sansa.”

“Then, please, when they go South, stay here. Help be my shield.”

She looked at her sister and could see the fear in her bright blue eyes. She remembered Bronn’s words about teaching her how to fight and wondered, for a moment, if maybe that would be her purpose. Jon and Daenerys would ride south and would no doubt be successful against Cersei. She’d spent so much of her life trying to get back home, trying to find a family to latch onto and replace her own, that now faced with her sister begging her to stay, she realized she was probably better to stay and ensure that Sansa was safe. Brienne could teach her how to use a sword if she desired, but Arya knew she needed Sansa as much as she needed Jon, Bran, and Gendry.

“What if I taught you how to shield yourself?”

“Whatever would keep you here,” she whispered.

Arya nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she said softly and felt Sansa take her hand again. “Milk of the Poppy is better than any wine. We should have it for dinner, sometimes.”

Sansa chuckled. “I’ll leave you to rest,” she said as she stood from the bed and turned to Arya. “You realize that you’ll need to refrain from any sort of...physical activity for a while, don’t you?”

Arya smirked. “I’ve still got a good hand,” she said with a laugh at the scandalous look upon her sister’s face. “Go away and let me rest. And send Gendry back,” she said even as she felt her eyes closing. “Maybe you should go see how the other fighters are doing. Might be that Ser Jaime needs your help.”

Sansa frowned. “I regret telling you that.”

Arya laughed. “I’m sure you do. Now, leave me and send in Gendry.”

*~*

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but when she woke, her leg was throbbing and she looked down at the hands untying the belt from around her leg. She looked up to see Maester Wolken who smiled down at her. “Samwell Tarly did a wonderful job with the stitching, but I believe we can remove the tourniquet,” he said. She glanced around the room and found Gendry standing at the foot of the bed, his arms folded over his chest. He’d changed clothes, no longer wearing the heavy jerkin and shoulders he’d worn during battle. Instead, it was a light brown leather that seemed to make his blue eyes sparkle.

The feeling of blood rushing through her limb caused her to gasp as it felt like she was being pricked by a thousand needles along her skin. She hated the feeling more than she could describe, but the Maester smiled up at her after a moment. “A very good job on these stitches. You’re not bleeding terribly,” he said as he wrapped her leg once more. “I’ve brought more Milk of the Poppy should the pain grow too much to bear, but try to resist taking it if possible.”

Arya nodded and the Maester stood. “How’s Jon?”

“The King is resting in his room. He has several broken ribs, but none puncturing a lung, which is a blessing. Other than that, a few minor scratches, scrapes and bruises. The Queen is taking good care of him, though her arm is broken.”

Arya sighed. “And Bran?”

“I last saw him speaking with Lord Tyrion Lannister,” he responded. “Well guarded by the Northron men,” he assured. She rested back against her pillow then looked over his shoulder at Gendry. “As are you, my lady.”

“He’s not Northron,” she answered and turned her eyes to Gendry.

The Maester smiled at her. “Get some rest, and I think we’ll try to have you up and walking around a bit by tomorrow.”

Arya nodded and the older man left. Gendry stayed at the foot of the bed, his eyes burning into hers. He almost looked angry at her. “Why are you so far away?”

“You’re injured,” he responded.

She nodded and patted the bed with her good hand. He rolled his eyes and joined her. When he was lying back against the other pillow, she moved closer to him and rested her head over his heart. “What’s the matter?”

He turned on his side to face her, causing her head to drop back to her pillow. “You almost died.”

She smiled. “ Almost .”

He found her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Still. I watched you bleed. I saw those dead things swarm you and for a moment...everything was gone.”

The smile left her face and she frowned. “We all knew what we were getting into.”

He nodded. “We did. I had made peace with the fact that I might die. Almost expected it, really. And I was fine with that because I knew you were going to live and fight on,” he heaved a sigh. “I never pictured a world without you,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “I’m here. I’m alive.”

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Five stabs wounds now, is it?”  She nodded. “Five too many, in my opinion. I hate seeing you hurt.”

“I don’t much like either,” she said and he dropped his head to her shoulder. “Better than the alternative, though.”

“Can you not get stabbed again in the future?” he questioned and wrapped an arm around his waist.

She chuckled. “I didn’t plan on this time...but I’ll do my best.”

He nodded and placed a kiss on her uninjured shoulder. “Good.” He rested his head on the pillow beside hers. “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts, but it’s not horrific. Mostly tired.”

“I can leave and let you get some sleep,” he offered but he made no attempts to move.

She shook her head. “No. I would have you stay with me,” she said as she pushed him onto his back and moved into his arms. He toed off his boots and settled beside her. The room was silent save for the crackle of the logs on the fire. She was nearly asleep when she said his name and got a soft moan in response. “You love me, right?”

“Yes. Stupid fool that I am is in love with you.”

She smiled, her eyes still closed. “If they let me up to move around tomorrow, we’re having sex.”

He chuckled. “Are we?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll see.”

“Don’t try to deflect me,” she ordered, but there was no bite to her tone.

“You’re injured. I’m not going to risk further injuring you because you can’t wait a few days.”

“It’s your fault.” She sighed. “Besides, you promised to kiss me.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I did, didn’t I?”

She nodded. “I expect you to do as I bid.”

“As m’lady commands.” When she didn’t say anything he looked down at her. “No comment?”

Arya smiled and shook her head. “I like when you call me m’lady . I know it means more. So I’ll let you,” she whispered.

He leaned his head against hers and she could feel herself drifting off once more, dreams of battles and the sun drifting through her mind.

Chapter Text

SANSA

She flipped the page of the book she had been reading but didn’t see any words.  She had tried to play the good lady of the keep and had looked in at all the injured, most of which had been lined up in the hall on cots and furs. It was still cold in the north.

Even though the dead had marched on their land, dragons had flown overhead, and enemies had fought together to defeat the Night King and his army, she didn’t understand what had happened between Jon and the Night King.  All she really needed to know was that the threat was gone, at least from the North. Now, they only had to worry about Cersei which was actually just as scary in her mind.

And while Sansa had helped the maids serve food and tend to smaller wounds of the soldiers who had fought, she continued to find herself in Jaime’s room.  The bone in his arm had shattered and the Maester had caused him a great deal of pain to set it.  Even a bit of surgery had been performed to get the larger fragments together.  She’d assisted, only because the maids had been occupied with other people and Sam had been tending to Jon and Daenerys.  She had administered Milk of the Poppy so his pain lessened and he slept through most of it. She’d seen enough bad things in the world that watching the Maester piece together bone hadn’t bothered her as much as she thought. She’d been the one to sew his arm together as she was proficient with a needle.  Never in her wildest imaginings would Sansa have thought she would use such a skill to tend to wounds.

But now, when the castle was silent, she found herself seated at Jaime’s bedside, a book on her lap as she waited for him to wake up.  She checked his bandage to confirm that the wound wasn’t still bleeding, and then settled into the chair once more.  She wandered the room and even poked the fire. She knew she should be back in her own room, ignoring whatever it was that kept her rooted to her place at his bedside. Sansa looked back at the words on the page and they seemed to blur together.

A groan sounded from the bed and she closed the book to put it on his bedside table.  He turned to look at her and his eyes met hers. He blinked several times and winced as he moved his arm but she was on her feet to settle him.  “Don’t move. Whatever happened to your arm broke the bones. The Maester did surgery to try to repair it. We’ll know in a few more days if you’ll lose your arm.”

“So, that’s what the horrible pain is,” he muttered.

“Milk of the Poppy,” she said as she sat on the bed beside him and uncorked the small vial.  “If you take all of this, you’ll go to sleep and never wake up.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Should I trust you to administer it?”

“I’ve had days to kill you, and I haven’t done it, yet.  You’re safe,” she said as she held it up for him to take. She helped him rise a bit to bring it to his lips.  He lay back on the pillows and she recorked the bottle and placed it on the table once more.

“I take it we won,” he said as he looked around at the room which was illuminated by the fire in the hearth.

“Not without some loss, but yes.  The Night King is dead.”

“Brienne?”

She smiled softly.  “Alive. She’s...I know the two of you have a strange bond...she’s come to check on you several times, but most of her day has been spent trying to keep Tormund from aggravating his head wounds. She’s avoided him for a very long time, but he saved her life on the battlefield and it appears as if she’s now willing to give him a chance.”

He heaved a sigh and nodded.  “She deserves to be happy.  A Wildling is a surprise, though.”

Sansa smiled.  “It surprised her as well, I think. She’ll be glad to know you’re awake.”

“Your brother? And Daenerys?”

“Both alive, miraculously.”

“Why miraculously?”

She frowned. “Jon was kicked in the chest by the Night King and broke several of his ribs. He was having a rather difficult time breathing. Daenerys fell from the dragon when he landed but only has a broken arm, though not as severe as yours.”

“Who did we lose?” He turned his eyes away from her. “How many?”

At that, she frowned. “Beric Dondarrion. Ser Jorah. Bronn,” she said finally and looked down at her hands. “Your brother is overseeing his funeral pyre.” She then frowned at seeing the saddened look on his face. “And we still won’t know exact numbers for a few days.”

Jaime closed his eyes and she watched as a tear slipped down his face. “I failed him. Bronn”

She sighed. “Tyrion said all he wanted was to die in a castle with a woman’s...” she blushed, “well, you get the idea. I hate he didn’t get it.”

Jaime swiped at the tears with his good hand but felt his body shift uncomfortably as he moved. “Anything else I should know?”

“Tyrion has been by your side during the day.  He loathes to leave you,” she said, hoping her words brought him comfort. “Daenerys issued an order from Jon’s chamber that he must seek rest or she’d feed him to Drogon.”

He smiled at that and then looked over at her. He looked weary and she didn’t know why, but she hated it. Her conversation with Arya about Jaime had left her more confused than with actual answers. She didn’t like being unsure. She didn’t like feeling as if she was spinning out of control. She especially hated that it only seemed to be where he was concerned. By all rights, she should hate the very air he breathed. He nearly killed her little brother. But he had also saved her life in the very recent future. He’d come North to offer his help and nearly lost his life. When he spoke, though, his question caught her off-guard. “Why are you here?”

She shrugged and gave a vague answer that wasn’t actually an answer to his question. “I’m having a terrible time sleeping. I only think about the war and what we could have lost.”

“Your faith pulled you through,” his voice was soft, yet full of understanding.

She had proclaimed herself to be without hope, yet time and time again, it sprang into her treasonous heart. She shook her head. “No, it was more than that. It was men fighting for us. Men I treated horribly when they only came to our aid,” she looked down at her hands, unable to look him in the eye again. She’d prided herself on being able to maintain eye contact with people, even under heavy scrutiny. To turn away was a weakness.

Jaime was silent for a moment and then tilted his head and whispered. “Maybe it was deserved.”

“It was.” She agreed and forced herself to look at him again. “But I was raised to be a lady of the keep and above such pettiness.”

He smirked. “I’m a knight with one hand. We all have our flaws.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m glad you lived.”

“You don’t still want my head?”

She shook her head in response. “I like it much better on your shoulders,” she whispered. “Thank you.  I know I was horrible to you, with good reason, but I was. I’m so-”

He interrupted her. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I don’t need to, but I am. I’m sorry.” She looked down at the furs that covered his chest and she smiled at him. “You did surprise me,” she said softly.

“You can be wrong. It gives me faith in the world,” he teased. “I take it your opinion of me has changed?”

She nodded. “That would be true.” The silence hung between them for a few moments and then she stood. “You should get some sleep.”

“Are you leaving?” he asked.

She stared down at him and gave him a soft smile. “You need rest, Ser Jaime.”

“Jaime is fine,” he responded.

She smiled.  “You can still call me Lady Sansa,” she said before she grabbed her book and left his room.  She closed the door behind her and leaned against the stone wall of the castle, feeling her heart thudding in her chest.  She was sure that everyone could hear it as she felt the blood rushing through her ears.  

*~*

Sansa was seated in the hall the following morning. She was tired and worried. She knew Arya would do what she wanted, but the thought of her going off to another battle to fight made her sick.

“Good morning, wife ,” Tyrion said with a slight smile that was hidden beneath his beard. “You look lovely as always.”

“ Husband ,” she teased back. There was something familiar about bantering with Tyrion. “I hate your beard,” she said before she took a sip of her tea.

He smiled as he sat beside her. “As I recall, you didn’t care for much about me. Why should the beard be any different.”

She shrugged. “Different circumstances.”

They were both silent then and Tyrion turned to Sansa, his eyes boring into her. “How is my brother?”

She placed her spook beside her bowl and turned to meet Tyrion’s eyes. “He was awake. But I don’t know if I like the insinuation of your tone.”

He shook his head. “My lady, if you read something into it maybe it’s a guilty conscience rather than anything I said.”

She furrowed her brow and turned to face him fully, her anger rising. “What is it you think I should feel guilty for?”

He took a sip of wine and made a face. “Sansa, I truly didn’t mean anything by my comment. Simply asking about my brother. I heard you have been going to see him...”

“So, what if I am?”

“Nothing. He saved your life, you helped to save his arm. I think it would be only natural for you to check in on him since you did sew him up.”

She knew Tyrion well enough to know that he wasn’t speaking the truth. In fact, she could see that he was lying to her and he did mean something by it, but she wouldn’t grace him with another comment. He was looking for something and she wouldn’t give it to him. “How is the queen?”

“She ordered me to leave my brother’s side for fear I would die of exhaustion and to not come see her unless she asks. So, I would say she’s on the mend.”

Sansa leaned back in her seat and sighed. “I like her.”

Tyrion smiled. “Once you get past the fire-breathing dragons, the horde of Dothraki, and the past of her family, she’s rather likable.”

“How did you come to be in her service?”

He sighed. “After Joffrey’s death for which I was imprisoned, Shae testified in front of everyone that you and I had conspired to kill Joffrey,” Sansa’s jaw hardened and she looked away from him. “Jaime saved me before I could be executed after my trial by combat scheme failed. I killed my father, I killed Shae, and Varys and I left for Essos. He’d been planning to back her for a while and he thought I should meet her.”

Sansa shook her head. “I’m sorry about Shae. I trusted her.”

“As did I, my lady,” he said softly.

“I know she was your mistress,” she admitted. “Not until I looked back on it later, but I know, now. She was too familiar with you and you with her. It’s amazing how so much of it made sense after that. But she did try to protect me numerous times. She was never harsh or unkind to me. I hate she turned on you.”

Tyrion finished the wine in his goblet. “Yes, well, I suppose it was a mistake to send her away angry with me, but I didn’t know any other way of making her leave. She was in danger. Cersei was looking for a way to hurt me. She could no longer hurt you, she needed a new target.”

Sansa shook her head. “What do you think the chances are the Jon and Daenerys defeat Cersei?”

“They just defeated an undead monster, have two dragons, and they’re alive. I would say the possibilities are extremely high.”

“I don’t want them to go.”

“But they must,” he insisted. “Cersei will never allow them to stay alive. They’re too much of a threat, especially now. When word starts hitting the rest of this country, people will begin to turn to the Targaryens in the North. Especially once they're wed.” He sighed. “I think they temper each other, well.”

Sansa smiled. “I thought it was your job to temper her.”

“Believe me, my lady, it takes more than one person. In fact, once we heard that we’d lost High Garden, she was going to take her three dragons to the Red Keep and burn everyone inside. She wouldn’t listen to me or Varys. But your brother convinced her not to go; a different approach. She could have taken the Red Keep when she arrived in Westeros, but she cares about what happens to her people. Jon cares about what happens to people. They’re a good match in that way.”

“Which one of them sits on the Iron Throne?”

“Both,” he answered, “as equals.”

“And how would that work, exactly?”

Tyrion sighed. “I’m still working out the details. But she won’t go without him and he without her. They’re united.”

“Not in the way that will matter to people.”

“Ah, yes, a wedding. I believe that is in our very near future. He has officially asked her, at least.”

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine Jon getting married.”

“This will actually be Daenerys’s third, but the first to a man she actually loves. She’s a lot like you, actually. The first she married for her family’s sake. Sold to the Khal in exchange for his army. You were...not sold, but we were married because it was a strategic move for my father to try to control the North. She then married a high lord in Mereen to try to keep the peace. You married Ramsay Bolton to do the same, essentially.”

“I was sold.”

“Again, you have a lot in common,” he said sadly. “Yet, you’ve both managed to keep your wits about you and do what is necessary for you to survive. This will be the first marriage Daenerys actually wants.”

Sansa frowned. “I’m sorry for all she endured.”

Tyrion nodded. “As am I. However, I think everything she experienced made her strong. Much like you. You’re not the girl who cowered away from Joffrey. In fact, now, I believe you would have poisoned Joffrey, if not worse. No one will ever take advantage of you again, my lady. That is a very good thing, for you may be one of the best players of the game I have ever seen.”

“I’m a slow learner,” she said softly and followed with, “ but I do learn . How much of my life was destroyed by Littlefinger?”

“A lot. But he’s dead. Seems to me, the only enemies you have left alive are my vicious cunt of a sister and possibly my brother.”

She shook her head. “Jaime is not my enemy.”

Tyrion frowned. “So, you don’t still want his head?”

She sighed. “No. It’s almost painful to say. Why shouldn’t I want him dead? He nearly killed Bran.”

He frowned. “That he did. But I know my brother well enough that I can say it’s something he regrets. He’s done a lot of horrible things where my sister is concerned. But he is an honorable man. At least, he wants to be. I think, in the world that we’re building, we should allow those who want honor to seek it.”

She shook her head and then smiled. “Some things don’t change. I’m very happy to see that you haven’t lost your ability to talk in circles.”

He chuckled. “Well, we can’t let everything change. I’ll remain the drunk Hand and you the icy Lady of Winterfell.”

He held up his glass to her and she clinked hers off his. “I’ll go along with that.”

Chapter Text

JON

When he opened his eyes and tried to take a deep breath he felt the pain shoot throughout his body, centered in his chest. He felt drunk, almost, but the heaviness in his head made him realize that it wasn’t from drink. Milk of the Poppy he assumed. He felt a slight pressure on his hand and turned his head to see Daenerys sleeping beside him.

Her arm was bandaged even as it rested beside his shoulder as she slept on her side facing him. He was relieved to see her, knowing what had been at stake and what they stood to lose. But here she was, sleeping peacefully wearing what appeared to be one of his tunics. He would never complain about that.

Her eyes opened slowly and met his offering a smile. “Hello,” she said softly.

He smiled in response. “How are you?”

“Sore. I won’t ask how you are given the giant boot print on your chest,” she said, her brows furrowed together in concern.

He looked down and saw that she was telling the truth. “That would explain why it hurts to breathe.”

She maneuvered in the bed to sit up, which was made more difficult by the lack of use of her arm. “It could be worse,” she said, lightly fingering the scar that marred his chest. “But you’re still here.”

“Well, I do believe you ordered me not to die,” he said with a half smile. The one she gave him in response seemed to light up the room.

“I meant what I said, too. I’ll come after you,” she whispered.

“At least we’d be together.”

She shook her head and silence reigned. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and he basked in it and her closeness. Ghost the appeared standing beside the bed at Jon’s side and Daenerys startled at seeing his white fur marred in blood and dirt. Jon frowned. “He needs a bath,” he muttered.

“He’s not the only one,” she said softly. “Though, I think I’ll wait until morning.”

“I’ll watch,” he said with a smirk and she smiled down at him.

“And what if I decide that you need a bath.”

“Not up for moving much at the moment,” he said softly, though he would love nothing more than to luxuriate with her in a tub.

“I can bathe you,” she said and she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. “Make everyone leave so I can run my hands all over you, with the pretense of getting you thoroughly clean.”

He smirked. “Sounds like torture to me. You get to touch me but I can’t touch you?”

She frowned. “You have broken ribs. I can wait on my pleasure,” she said and then a smile broke onto her face, “or you can watch me seek it myself.”

He chuckled but then winced in pain as it wracked through his body. “Torture. That’s what it will be,” he said once he settled again.

Daenerys brushes her fingers through his hair and sighed. “I’m thankful that you’re still here.”

He nodded. “So am I.”

She leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips, but lingered as his hands came up to cup her face. Daenerys broke the kiss and snuggled into the bed beside him, careful not to jostle him too much. “Are you alright? Do you need more Milk of the Poppy?”

He saw the vial on the bedside table and reached for it. He uncorked it and only took down a bit, hoping to just take the edge off of the pain, before he put it back. Ghost was still sitting on the floor beside the bed looking at them. He gave him a scratch behind the ears, which seemed to placate the pup. He moved to lie back in front of the fire and nearly jumped at feeling Daenerys’s fingers brushing against his side.

“I think we should go back to sleep,” she suggested as she took Jon’s hand and stared up at the canopy. He nodded, feeling the effects of the drug. “Wonderful idea,” he said softly.

*~*

The next morning, Daenerys had requested a bath, leaving ample opportunity for those who wanted to see Jon and Daenerys come into the room as the bath was being drawn. Sansa was their first visitor. She stood at the foot of the bed while Jon stayed laying on his back and Daenerys was sitting beside him, almost fully dressed.

“You both look better. Not as pale,” she said with a smile.

Jon smiled at her. “How is everyone? Arya?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Stubborn as ever. She refuses to admit she’s hurt. She actually needs a cane to walk,” Sansa shook her head, “she threw it at me. She got halfway down the corridor before she was out of breath and she reluctantly let Gendry carry her back to her room. I believe he might be the only person she hasn’t thrown out. I’m barred from seeing her until I can realize that she’s not a weak, wilting flower that needs help I believe were her exact words.”

Daenerys smiled. “I really like your sisters,” she said and turned back to Sansa. “How is Ser Jaime? I’ve had to issue orders for him to rest and Tyrion not sit vigil by his bedside, which I’m sure he disobeyed.

Sansa nodded. “He’s healing well. The Maester doesn’t think he’ll lose the whole arm. In fact, because of the surgery he performed on Jaime, it looks like he might make a full recovery.”

Jon nodded. “Good.” Jon pushed himself up and Daenerys and Sansa both moved quickly to help him. It must have been the first time Sansa had actually seen the damage done to him by the Night King. “Let me assure you, it hurts worse than it looks.”

Sansa shook her head. “You’re both so stubborn,” she said under her breath.

Daenerys smiled. “It’s the blood of the dragon,” she muttered.

Sansa sighed. “And the wolf. Arya...is determined to go south with you when you go.”

Jon nodded. “I figured as much.”

“You would let her.”

Jon shook his head and sighed. “It’s not a matter of letting her do anything. How would I stop her?”

“You could talk to her.”

He sighed. “Sansa, she’s a warrior. Yes, she’s also our little sister, but you have to respect her and what she is.”

Sansa frowned at sat at the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. “I nearly lost both of you in that battle. And now, you’re going south to fight Cersei.”

“Not anytime soon,” Daenerys tried to comfort her. “We have other matters that must be dealt with, first.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and even as Daenerys moved in front of her and took her hands, she didn’t look up. “The Northron men will rally around you because you fought for them. No need to worry about that.”

Daenerys didn’t appear insulted at her tone, but her brows furrowed together and she looked at Jon. Suddenly, a smile formed on her face and he returned the smile She turned back to Sansa. “I was actually speaking about our wedding,” she glanced at Jon and he was transfixed by her. “It would be smarter if we went south already wed. Therefore there’s no divided loyalty between us amongst the people. We’ll take the throne together, as husband and wife.”

He smiled and nodded. “That’s right, Sansa. You’ll have to help us plan our wedding.”

She looked between the two of them and smiled brightly. “Really?”

Daenerys nodded. “You’ll have to check with the Maester about when Jon will be able to get up and move around, but I think we could set it for around that date.”

He winked at her, loving how brilliant her mind was. Sansa would have worried herself sick over their impending march south. Now she had a distraction.

“The Godswood?” Sansa questioned.

Daenerys smiled. “It would be my first wedding in the Godswood.”

He rolled his eyes at her teasing, knowing that her past lovers and husbands were not his favorite topic of conversation. However, he nodded to Sansa who stepped around Daenerys. “It will be beautiful! And Old God’s ceremony?”

Daenerys looked at Jon and tilted her head. “I don’t have much faith. I suppose I’ll have to rely on your Gods to bless our union.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I believe, my queen, that they already have.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “If you two are going to start all of this sweet stuff, I’ll leave. I believe your bath is done.”

Daenerys nodded. “Would you send in Messandei? Also, you might want to consult with her. She knows my preferences in terms of dresses.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

The door closed and soon Messandei entered. She could tell she’d been crying and she stepped forward to hug her. Messandei hugged her back, then helped her remove her sling from around her neck and placed the bits of cloth along a table. She didn’t remove the bandages at her arm, however. Jon simply stood back and observed as Daenerys inquired about how Messandei was doing. She truly cared for the woman. He thought when he’d first met her, that she had freed people only to take them as her own servants. None of that could be further from the truth. They followed her because they believed in her.

Messandei helped her into the tub and then started the arduous task of washing her hair. The sound of them talking was enough to lull him into a sleepy doze. He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep when he opened his eyes to see Daenerys exiting the tub, water sliding over her naked body. He could see a bruise on her right side from her hitting the ground, but it looked faded as most of the outside of it was turning that sickly green color, but that meant it as healing. He didn’t know what was being said as she’d suddenly started speaking in one of the many other languages she knew to her handmaiden who smiled and nodded.

Her hair hung down her back in a wet tangle, but Messandei made a long simple braid to keep her hair back from her face and then left. Daenerys latched the door behind her and moved to the bed gloriously naked. He could feel himself stirring beneath the blankets as he knew that look in her eye all too well. She didn’t have her sling around her neck as she moved to the tub and picked up one of the dry flannels. She dipped it into the water and moved over to him. “Now, King Jon, I believe it’s time you’ve had your bath.”

She sat on the bed beside him and moved the cloth over his fingers and arm, examining each scar. He didn’t know if he would be able to make it through her entire torture plan as he was already hard and pressing insistently against his own belly. She skimmed gently over his chest and he tried to control his breathing. Any breath deeper than what he was doing now was painful, but it was almost impossible not to.

“Are you trying to kill me now?”

She shook her head with a smile and moved the furs off his legs. “Now, Jon Snow,” she said scandalized. “I believe you’re enjoying this.”

“More than you even know,” he replied and watched as she moved between his partially spread legs, allowing the cloth to move along each thigh. He closed his eyes, unable to watch her. She was torturing him. He loved and hated it in equal measure. He heard the cloth hit the floor and opened his eyes to see her take his cock in hand and stroke over it. He threw his head back against the headboard as he gripped the sheets beneath him.

“You’re always so generous with me,” she muttered. He started to open his eyes to ask what she meant by that when he felt her tongue flick over the head of his cock. He was certain he had stopped breathing altogether. She gathered the pooling moisture on his cock against her tongue and then took the head into her mouth.

“Fuck!” he grunted, unable to form any other words. Her eyes never left his as she licked and sucked in equal measure. It didn’t take long for him to get the familiar tightening in his balls. “Daenerys, stop!” he nearly shouted at her. But she didn’t stop, instead continued on and he felt himself release into her mouth, feeling the contraction of her throat against him. His body shook which caused him to hold his breath due to the pain. She pulled back and sat on her knees, delicately wiping her lips as she moved to lie beside him once more, tugging the furs over him.

She tilted her head with a smile. “When you do that for me, does it make you feel powerful?” He was beyond words and so he only nodded. “And vulnerable?” Again, he nodded. She looked over at him. “I like it.”

He nodded. “As soon as I’m able, I plan to spend days between your thighs.” The softness in her face had him tilting his head. “What?”

“We’re going to be married.”

He nodded. “I think we’ve been on that path since we met.”

She smirked. “Probably. Only, we might have been the only two fools who didn’t realize it. Tyrion told me you were in love with me long before we went to bed together.”

He captured her good hand and brought it to his lips. “That’s because I was.”

“For how long?”

He furrowed his brow. “I was attracted to you, but entirely frustrated by you, when we met. But I think I realized I was in deeper than I knew in the cave.”

She smiled. “That’s when I realized I wanted you,” she admitted. “You were standing there, staring me in the eye, continuing to defy me, and all I wanted was for you to be inside me. I realized I loved you when I saw you fall into the water beyond the wall. I’d lost Viscerion. The thought of losing you, too, shattered my already broken heart. Jorah kept trying to get me to leave Eastwatch, but I couldn’t believe that you would fall so easily. I had this hope burning in my chest, telling me to wait. But it started to die the longer I watched...” he reached up and brushed away the tears. “I finally turned away to leave...and then hope rose again at the sound of the horn.”  She captured his hand in hers. “I’ve always put my faith in myself. But now, I’ve put it in you as well. I have faith in you and I and that terrifies me!”

He nodded. “Me too,” he said with a sigh. “But, we’re better together. You’re a queen who fights for her people. You try to be fair and you realize that you have impulsive tendencies, which I do as well. Maybe we’re supposed to be together because who else besides us could survive what we had, put aside our differences, and come together to defeat the Night King? It had to be you and I. I couldn’t do it alone. Neither could you. It had to be us, together. And together we will eliminate Cersei and find some way to unite this divided country.”

She moved up on her knees beside him and placed a kiss on his lips. “I love you,” she whispered. “More than I think I have a right to.”

He shook his head. “It’s you and I, Dany,” he said and she wrinkled her nose at the name but didn’t chastise him for it. “I’ll change the meaning of it. I’ll never use it against you or hurt you with the name. It will be only for you to know that I am blissfully in love with you.”

She looked down at his chest, then her eyes found him again to kiss him. “I agree to your terms, my king .”

Chapter Text

JAIME

The funeral pyres were to be lit that morning. He’d heard from Tyrion that both the king and queen would attend, and it would be the first time that everyone had seen them since their defeat of the Night King. Jaime had insisted on going, to pay his last respects to Bronn, his fallen...friend. It was the only way he could think of him. He had been his friend. Maybe not a good one on some occasions. But he’d always been honest, even if honesty hurt. He’d punched him in the face more times than he’d liked. And he had been paid to be at his side. But he hoped there was something in him that at least liked Jaime. There had to be. Otherwise, he could have delivered his head to Cersei and been on his way.

He hadn’t done that. He’d gone to fight alongside Jaime, to protect him, to ensure that he got what was owed to him. Jaime couldn’t help but recall how he had cut Bronn’s head from his body as he had turned. He hadn’t wanted to do it, hoping to leave his body intact, but in the heat of battle, it had been the only option to keep him from killing Brienne.

A knock at his door and he looked up to see the aforementioned lady. She would hate him for thinking of her that way. She thought she was beyond titles like ‘lady’ or ‘woman’. He didn’t think it as an insult, but simply part of who he was. “Lady Sansa sent me to get you,” she said plainly and he saw that Pod wasn’t behind her.

“And where is Pod, your faithful squire?”

“He’s escorting the Lady. Her request.”

Jaime frowned and didn’t know why that had bothered him. But it had. It was a niggling feeling beneath his skin. He followed Brienne out of his room and down the stairs to the courtyard and the wall beyond. There were hundreds of pyres constructed, men, women, and children laying upon them. Because of their lack of numbers, children had been forced to fight. He cursed Cersei once more. Would her aid had kept that from happening?

Tyrion was standing waiting on his brother and smiled. “Good to see you up and about, brother.”

“I suppose it’s good to be seen. But the circumstances...”

“Yes, those are...unfortunate.”

“Understatement,” he said softly. “He liked you more than me.”

“Of course he did,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m the funnier one. And he got more women with me around. No one wants an imp. Naturally, they chose the one to stand above them.”

Jaime frowned. “He didn’t get his wish.”

“No, and that pains me for him. Maybe somewhere in the afterlife, he’s sitting in a castle with a great host of women to service him.”

He chuckled. “That would be what he’d want,” said as he walked with Tyrion to the pyres. “Any word from the Red Keep?”

Tyrion shook his head. “It’s actually frightening,” he responded. “Word must have reached her, by now, that Jon and Daenerys won. I’m sure she’s devising plans on how to kill all of us in the most painful way possible.”

“Without a doubt,” Sansa’s voice sounded behind them and both turned and bowed to her. “If I know anything about her, she’s already developed no less than ten plans, each more painful than the previous.”

Tyrion nodded. “That sounds like her.” He smiled at Sansa. “You look lovely today, wife .”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me tie you to one of these pyers, Tyrion,” she said with a slight smile and moved to stand beside him.

He looked up at Jaime, a sardonic smile on his face. “She loves me, truly.”

Jaime shared a glance with Sansa and smiled despite himself. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Sansa turned to say something to Podrick and he was suddenly standing beside her, between Tyrion and Sansa. He knew the squire had been close to Bronn. He’d heard stories of Bronn, Tyrion, and Podrick while they’d all been in King’s Landing. The most outlandish being the quiet squire was somewhat of a genius in bed, though he didn’t believe it. He watched Pod share a small smile with Sansa and he was suddenly consumed by that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach once more.

Podrick and Sansa were both young, but she was of a higher station than him. Sansa seemed to be concerned with propriety, though other members of her family didn’t seem to care as much. Brandon Stark was rolled to the pyres and placed to the other side of his sister and he looked up at her and took her hand. It was the most emotion he’d seen from the boy since he arrived at Winterfell. Sansa smiled down at him and looked out over the people before them.

The thumping of the dragons could be heard as they landed and he turned to see Daenerys with a slow-moving Jon Snow. He’d had a broken rib before. It was excruciating. Jon Snow had no less than seven. He didn’t know how the man was moving around. The black dragon walked beside Daenerys and she leaned her head against his. He saw the younger Stark girl walking beside them, obviously angry. The scowl on her face and the look she cast at the man beside her let him know that it was obviously at him. Gendry Baratheon, as others in the keep had taken to calling him, didn’t seem phased by this in the least. She was leaning her weight on a crutch and when she finally arrived with the rest of them, he could see she was sweating. He could hear her growl something to the other man and he didn’t look concerned.

Jon was handed the torch which he then passed to Daenerys. “These people, our people, fought together to defeat our enemy. They gave their lives so we could continue to live. We send them off in fire so their spirits mingle with the stars.” He looked over at Daenerys who had tears sliding down her face and he saw Jorah Mormont on the pyre in front of her. He knew that Jorah had been with Daenerys since she’d been married to the Khal years ago. As she lit the circle around the pyres, she handed the torch off to one of her Dothraki and Jon grasped her good hand. They shared a look and if Jaime didn’t know it before, he knew it then: they loved one another. It was uncomfortable to watch.

He looked down at Tyrion and frowned at the sad look on his brother’s face. “He liked you,” Tyrion said finally. “He would have killed you and taken the gold if he hadn’t.”

Jaime frowned. “I almost wish he had.”

“I don’t. I’m glad you’re alive.”

People began filtering away a few of the lords stopped to speak to Jon and Daenerys. They would be king and queen. Cersei would die at their hands, and given her betrayal, she should. It had been a long road for him to accept that she was the monster Olenna had said. There were so many signs that he had missed. He internally seethed. He hadn’t missed them, he had overlooked them. He was a fool and not for the first time he hated himself.

Daenerys excused herself from Jon and made her way over to Jaime and Tyrion. “We’re going to toast in the hall. Please join us,” she said softly.

Tyrion nodded. “Of course. Jaime and I would be happy to attend.”

Jaime wanted to tell him to speak for himself, but he bit his tongue under the perusal of the Dragon Queen.

“How is your arm?” she asked.

“It hurts.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. “I’m finding that out quickly. I’m glad you survived.”

“Are you?” Jaime asked.

“Despite the fact that you once tried to run me through with a spear, I don’t wish ill on you. If I did, I would have served your head to Lady Sansa when she asked for it. I believe, Ser Jaime, that you’ve already proven your worth and why we allowed you to live. You may yet surprise us all and go further than that.”

He frowned. “Meaning?”

“We’re gathering our troops, assessing our assets. Are you going to be an asset? Are you going to ride South with us?”

He sighed and shrugged his good should. “Undecided.”

She nodded. “When we have time, allow me to tell you about my brother Viserys and why he’s dead.” She looked down at Tyrion and gave him a small smile before she returned to Jon and they began making their way back to the castle.

He looked down at Tyrion who had a weary smile on his face. “So, that’s the queen you’re backing?”

“That’s the queen everyone should back. She fought for her people. She fought for people who would see her dead. On the back of a great monster, she rode into battle and helped stop the coming night. If that’s not a queen to inspire loyalty and trust, I don’t know that one could exist.”

Jaime frowned. “She’s killed people.”

“Yes. She has. Some people who maybe shouldn’t have died. A lot more who should have. You can hate her if you want. If it makes it easier on you where Cersei is concerned. We’re not asking you to necessarily believe that Daenerys is the best option. We’re asking you to believe that Cersei isn’t,” he said as he started back towards the castle.

Jaime turned and looked at the fire and felt a presence beside him. It was Sansa and she wasn’t looking at him. “I wouldn’t recommend standing alone too long in the North,” she said as she cast glances at some of the other Lords who were glaring at him.

“I fought at their side. What more do they want?”

“Your blood,” she said as she looked at him. “Some of them will never be satisfied with anything less.”

“What about you?”

She tilted her head as she looked at him. “I told you, I don’t wish you dead. If it was just you fighting in the war, I might reconsider my current position. But, you saved me when I needed someone. That I don’t forget. The North remembers.”

He nodded. “You’re right, my lady, they do.”

“My Lady?” Brienne said and Sansa turned to her with a smile and walked with her back to the castle.

“I’ve seen a look like that,” Tormund said as he walked beside Jaime back to the castle.

“What look?”

“The one that Lady Sansa gave you."

“Like she wants my head on a spike?”

He shook his head. “No, what was it that Hound said? Something about wanting to carve out my liver and eat it.” They entered the gates.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I would never say this to King Crow, or even around him, but I think the woman kissed by fire might be interested in the Kingslayer.”

“Have you been drinking already?”

“Yes. But when a woman looks at a man like that there’s usually something there inside them that they don’t like, but they can’t deny it.”

“Personal experience speaking?”

He nodded. “Brienne looks at me that way. Yet, I plan to have the lady and I think she plans to let me,” he said with a smile. “Besides, Snow and the Dragon Queen are going to down south to kill your sister. Unless you plan to take up with the cockless army, I suggest you find somewhere else to put it.”

Jaime scoffed. “It’s amazing. Bronn died and I think I’m done hearing about cocks, and then you show up.”

Tormund stopped Jaime with a hand on his good arm. “How much suffering in this world has been caused because of a man following his cock? I’d wager a great deal. That’s where Jon Snow came from. Why would the world be any different now?”

“We should want it to be.”

“We should. But we don’t. I’ll spend my life trying to make that beauty blissfully happy.”

“You’d go South for her,” he recalled.

“Right. Where would go?” he asked.

*~*

Jaime was loath to go back to his room and so he found himself staring out at the snow-covered plains beyond Winterfell. Scorch marks from the dragon fire could still be seen beneath the snow. It was snowing now and he pulled his cloak tighter around him and turned at hearing footfalls. Brienne.

“You really shouldn’t be outside. If you get sick in addition to the injury to your arm whether or not you go south with them won’t be an issue. You’ll be dead,” she said plainly.

“I’m fine,” he said softly. “Do you like the North?”

She looked around and then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to protect Lady Sansa and Arya, not that she would ever say she needed help. She threw her bloody crutch at me.”

Jaime laughed. “I heard she’s been doing that.”

“She’s a true fighter. She equaled me.”

Jaime turned to look at her and smirked. “That’s quite an accomplishment for one so young.”

“It’s not age, it’s what she went through. She and Sansa had such different experiences. Yet, here they are, reunited, and somehow they’re getting along. I heard they never used to.”

He smiled. “You like the Starks.”

“I do. They’re honorable, honest, fair, and probably some of the best people I know.”

“All of them?”

She nodded. “Do you know that Jon Snow never once questioned why I was Sansa’s escort to Castle Black? Never questioned that I was a woman and it was unsafe. There aren’t many people who look at me and see someone of value that can protect others. Jon Snow never questioned that I couldn’t. He treats his sisters as equals. He treats Daenerys as an equal.” She sighed. “Then there’s Bran, strange child. But again, his experiences have shaped what he’s become. He’s seen everything that’s happened in the past. You would have to imagine that all the horrors he’d seen his family endure he would have to stop feeling everything at some point. A person couldn’t endure all of that and still feel things like the rest of us do. And he’s...gotten better since the Night King fell. He’s stopped telling Sansa about the horrible things she went through.”

“What do you mean?”

Brienne shook head. “When he first arrived back at Winterfell, he told Sansa how beautiful she looked on her wedding night...to Ramsay.”

Jaime paused, wondering how much Brienne would divulge of what Sansa had gone through. “I heard he was a sadistic monster.”

“That’s being kind,” she said softly. “When I found her, she was near to freezing to death and he had sent his men and dogs to find her and Theon. She was weak, cold, and abused. They’d trudged through a river and she truly thought she was going be delivered back into his clutches. Littlefinger knew what he was and sold her to him anyway.”

Jaime’s jaw tensed and his fist tightened beneath his cloak. “She’s a fighter.”

Brienne nodded. “I thought she was going to get your head. Especially when she found out about Bran.”

He frowned. “I wish I could take that one action back.”

“Just that one?”

He shook his head. “You know that’s not true.”

“I do,” she said as she turned and faced him. “They know why you killed the Mad King. Tyrion already told them, but I made sure they all knew that you did it to protect all those innocent people who didn’t need to die. I don’t think you’ll hear the Starks referring to you as Kingslayer.”

“Doesn’t erase all the other things I did.”

“It does not. But it proves there’s more to you than a man who blindly follows Cersei.”

He sighed. “Did they send you out here to try to convince me to fight Cersei?”

She shook her head. “No. No one sent me.”

They were silent for a moment and then he smiled, thinking of the Wildling. “So...Tormund?”

She blushed and it moved from her face to her ears. “Careful what you say or I’ll pitch you over this wall.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything disparaging. He seems to be madly in love with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Or just mad,” she said with a huff. “I’m confused about him.”

“What’s confusing?”

“I want to punch him in the face but also kiss him. It’s very...disturbing.”

Jaime laughed and shook his head. “It’s lust. And why not? He has done nothing but sing your praises to anyone who listens.” If it was possible, she turned redder. “He admires you as a fighter as much as a woman. One thing’s for certain, he would never try to change you.”

She shook her head. “I almost like him.”

“I think you do like him,” Jaime said with a teasing lilt to his tone. “I won’t tell anyone.”

She heaved a sighed. “Sansa knows.”

He nodded. “I gathered that. Rather perceptive,” he said as he started walking away.

“I don’t know how comfortable I am that you’re having conversations about me behind my back.”

“I can assure you that nothing that’s been said would bring you dishonor,” he said with a nod. “The people you protect care for you. I never doubted that they would.”

He began walking back into the castle and felt a shiver run through his body as it adjusted to the warmer temperatures. He stopped in the hall as he saw Sansa standing and staring at the stone. He realized where he was. There were still burn marks on the stone from where her undead handmaiden had been burned. He was going to turn and leave her to her reverie when her eyes suddenly met him and he was rooted in place.

“I keep having nightmares,” she said finally. She shook her head, aggrieved. “I thought that once I could get Ramsay out of my head that they would stop. But now, there’s a new monster chasing me,” she said softly. “When does it end?”

Jaime shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe never?”

She gave a half smile. “That’s what I like about you. You’ll be honest with me even if I don’t like the truth.”

“You’re alive. Which is more than a lot of people can say. I would urge you not to dwell on it.”

“Is that how you get over it? You don’t dwell?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m not over anything, my lady. In fact, it seems that the longer I live the worst things get.”

“That’s comforting.”

He stepped towards her and turned her to face him. “The monsters you faced are gone. The Dead, Ramsay Bolton, Littlefinger, and Joffrey are all gone. You are the one standing here, alive, in your home. Surely that has to do something to dissuade the nightmares.”

She shook her head. “I can’t let myself stop thinking about any of it. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll fall into the same trap. I never want to be someone’s victim again.”

“And you won’t. You’re too smart for that, now.”

He watched as she tilted her head at him. “I was told by several people that I was a slow learner. I am. Sometimes too trusting still to people I shouldn’t trust. Littlefinger managed to weasel his way back into my counsel after he sold me to Ramsay. That marks a fool.”

He remembered telling Olenna that he was a slow learner. Maybe they had that in common. But he shook his head. “No. He took advantage of the situation you were in.”

“I should have seen that he was still playing me,” she said and he could hear the disgust in her voice. “I should have known.”

He frowned. “What happened to Littlefinger happened exactly how it should have. You had his own words to use against him. You had the Knights of the Vale hear what he had done. He had nowhere left to go, and at the end, he showed you what kind of man he truly was. He betrayed you, plain and simple. His motivations for any of it are unimportant.”

Sansa frowned. “You sound so certain.”

He nodded. “I am. You don’t take pity on monsters. If they’d done that to you then they’ve done it to other people.”

She faced him them and he was caught by the intensity of her blue eyes. “You should be resting.”

He shook his head. “I can’t stare at the walls of that room any longer. Once I was outside this morning, I haven’t wanted to go back in.”

She sighed. “Not everyone likes the snow. I find it’s cleansing. In the same way fire is. It hides scars, imperfections with perfection.”

Jaime tilted his head as he watched her. “It will eventually melt, and the scars are still there.”

“Some scars, Jaime, won’t disappear no matter what we do to cover them. Those we live with. We can try to hide them, but they’re always there, mocking us with the pain we endured.” He lowered his head and could almost feel where the fingers of his right hand had been. He didn’t realize she had moved but she was now standing in front of him and gently moved his cloak aside to examine the covered nub where his hand had been. She smelled of trees and snow. It almost caused him to be dizzy. When her eyes met his, he was trapped by them. “I carry my scars. I can cover them in the day, but in the dark of the night, they stand out and remind me of the battles I fought and lost.”

“Battles lost,” he whispered. “You won the war.”

She licked her lips and he was transfixed by her tongue peeking out. “There are wars yet to come.”

“You should learn how to fight.”

She gave him a slight half smile. “You fight your way, I’ll fight mine.”

She released his hand and turned to walk away from him. Sansa disappeared down the corridor before he even had the chance to beg her to stay.

Chapter Text

GENDRY

Gendry was seated in front of the fire and he was acutely aware of Arya behind him attempting to undress. She insisted that she didn’t need him and so he didn’t help her unless she asked for it. After watching her throw the crutch that the Maester had given her at both Sansa and Brienne, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. If she wanted to be stubborn and overexert herself, he’d let her.

She moved around his chair and stood in front of him, and he knew she would hate it if he mentioned that she still had a very pronounced limp. The stitches on her arm were healing well, and her leg looked better than it had days before. He was thankful that the bandages around both were no longer coming away bloody.

“Why are you being so quiet?” she asked.

He frowned and leaned back in his chair and pulled her to sit on his lap. “Sad day.”

Her fingers moved along his jaw as he leaned into her neck, inhaling her scent. At the moment she smelled like the salve that the Maester had given her to put over her wounds. But there was also the smell of leather and wind. “Reflecting on your life choices?”

He nodded and smirked up at her. “Yes, specifically allowing you to command me like a pup.”

“When have I done that?”

He rolled his eyes. “When haven’t you done that?”

She then shrugged her uninjured shoulder and grinned. “You knew what you were getting into.”

He nodded. “I certainly did. No regrets.”

Arya leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips and he knew he’d have to somewhat hold back or she’d have him and she’d be in pain later. He wouldn’t hurt her for anything, no matter how much he wanted her. She broke the kiss and ran her thumb along his lower lip. “Maybe we should take this to the bed.”

He smoothed his hand down her back and frowned. “I told you when the Maester says you won’t start bleeding...”

She moved from his lap and over to her side of the bed and removed her sword. He knew she wouldn’t be able to remove her jerkin without his help, and he was going to make her ask for it. He wanted to prove a point, that she wasn’t as well as she thought. He kept his back to her as he removed his other boot and placed both by the fire and then leaned back. He could hear her huff in frustration and finally, his name said angrily. “Gendry.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t get to all the laces,” she admitted and he leaned around the chair to look at her. He didn’t know why her hair was mussed like it was, but that combined with only one boot on her foot, the laces of her leather breeches undone and her jerkin hanging off her shoulder he thought she was beautiful in her anger. He stood and walked over to her. He undid the laces down her side and dropped the jerkin to the floor as well as her tunic. He pushed her to the bed and undid her other boot. She stood again to allow him to remove her leathers and felt her lips against his ear.

“Why are you still here?” she whispered.

He stood straight and looked at her. “Where else would I be?”

She shook her head. “I mean...I’ve been nasty to everyone the last few days. You’ve endured my temper more than others...”

He smirked. “You haven’t thrown anything at me, either.” He brushed down her hair and kissed her gently on the forehead. “You’re my concern. There’s nowhere else I’m going to be, even if you did decide to kick me out.”

She leaned her head against his chest and he cupped her face in his hands. “I hate being helpless.”

He sighed. “You’re not helpless. Are you able to do everything you did before? Not at the moment, but you’re already getting around better than you did. Your wounds are healing,” he said as he helped her to the bed and sat beside her.

“It’s frustrating,” she said where she sat beside him. “I feel fine, most of the time, but sometimes just the wrong movement causes me pain and it makes me feel weak.”

He took her hand in his. “It’s not weak to admit that you’re hurt. Or to ask for help.”

“I hate it.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I imagine you do. You never liked admitting you needed anything from anyone. I didn’t see how that would have improved with age.”

She rolled her eyes and he gave her a half smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be a bigger pain in my ass?”

He shook his head. “No, my lady. That’s always been you to me.”

She shoved him with her good hand. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Sex, mostly,” he said and they both chuckled.

“Although, you’re not even holding up to your end on that one.”

He sighed. “Believe me, it’s not been fun sleeping pressed up against you every night and every morning. Especially where you do that thing and rub your arse against me.”

She smiled. “I do it on purpose.”

He nodded and chuckled again. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Arya frowned then. “When Jon goes South, I’m going with him.”

“I know.”

She tilted her head. “Not going to try to talk me out of it?”

He shook his head. “Why would I waste the energy? You’re a fighter. And it would be damn disrespectful of me to ask you. So, if you’re going, I’m going with you.”

“You truly know who I am. I thought that it might scare you away...”

He sighed. “No. Seeing you bleeding on the ground scared me. Watching you hurl your crutch at Sansa and then later Brienne? That was a bit frightening. Who you are doesn’t scare me.”

*~*

Gendry spun his hammer in his hands as he stood beside a sitting Arya and watched Brienne instructing a reluctant Sansa with a sword. He could see how frustrated Arya was that she couldn’t help, but it still hurt badly to put weight on her leg and Brienne and Sansa wouldn’t allow her to help unless she was going to make verbal suggestions from the side. Pod was standing on Arya’s other side as they watched Brienne knock the blade from Sansa’s hands again.

“She held it longer that time, didn’t she?” Pod asked.

Gendry frowned. “Not much longer.”

“Sansa, it’s like your sewing needles. If you hold it too tight you don’t get the fluidity you need to move to the next stitch and too loose and you drop the needle to the floor,” Arya explained.

Sansa picked up the sword and looked at her sister in exasperation. Tormund joined them shortly and they watched as Brienne tried the same thing, only this time Sansa held onto the sword and jumped in excitement. They all laughed at how happy she was and she ordered Brienne to try it again.

“Do you think she realizes that Brienne’s not using her actual strength?” Pod asked.

“Shh, don’t damage her confidence,” Arya said with a smile.

“No one worries if she's damaged my confidence,” Pod remarked.

“You’re her squire. You shouldn’t have confidence,” Arya said with a smile. “You’re also, not a lady.”

Tormund frowned and Gendry looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

“What is happening here?”

“Brienne is trying to teach Sansa how to defend herself.” Pod explained.

Tormund looked at them in confusion. “Why?”

Arya answered. “She needs to learn.”

“Yes, I agree with that. But why is Brienne teaching her?”

“Why can’t I teach her?” Brienne suddenly asked as she stared at him.

Tormund sighed and looked at the group. “Because you would never hurt her. Defeats the purpose of learning to fight if your life isn’t really in danger.”

Gendry was trying to find the logic in the insanity but it didn’t come. Arya chimed in. “So, your issue isn’t that Brienne is a woman...”

Tormund scoffed. “As if that matters. She’s the best one, maybe save your brother, I’ve ever seen with a sword. She should have someone with skill teaching her how to wield it. But there’s no threat, no need to for her learn quickly.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her.”

“And anyone she fights will try to not only hurt her but kill her,” Tormund reasoned.

Gendry frowned. “He’s right.”

Arya looked over at him and shook her head. “No, he isn’t.”

“Yes, he is. You were trained by Syrio, true, but you learned more when your life was on the line,” Gendry responded.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want my life to be on the line. This is a precaution,” Sansa argued. “I’ve barely got a grip on the sword. Let’s not have people start charging me.”

“What is happening here?” Jon’s voice cut through their arguments. He joined the rest of them, albeit slowly and leaned against the crates that Arya was sitting on, causing Pod to move.

“Tormund suggested that Sansa fight someone that wants to hurt her so she learns to use the sword quicker,” Arya answered, obviously knowing the reaction they would get from her brother.

Gendry nearly laughed at the expression on Jon’s face as he turned to his Wildling friend. “That’s how we do it North of the Wall,” Tormund explained. At everyone’s silence, he turned to Jon. “Would you say you were a better fighter before you actually fought in a battle or two or now?”

He was stunned that everyone else seemed to have no argument to this. He saw the merit in it even if he thought it was insane. He already knew the Wildlings, or Free Folk did things differently. “While that might be sound advice for others, I think Sansa can learn well enough without having a sword come to her throat.”

Tormund held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. It’s how I learned,” he said as he stood back and Sansa stared at him apprehensively.

Arya wrapped her arm around Gendry’s shoulders where he leaned against her. He smiled as his hand looped and rubbed against her ankle over her boot. Brienne tried the same move and when Sansa parried and Brienne changed the angle of her sword, she was still holding it. He could feel eyes on him and found that they were Jon’s but he remained silent and turned back to Sansa. He didn’t know what Jon was going to say to him when they eventually talked, but he was sure there would be a threat of some kind.

Brienne withdrew and Sansa turned to Arya. “I want to learn all the spins that you do.”

Arya scoffed. “Because it’s that easy.”

“I know it’s not. But you use a smaller sword and you’re fast. I like that part.”

She shook her head. “I can’t teach you while I’m still injured. Certain unreasonable parties refuse to let me do anything physical until the stitches are removed,” she said as she poked Gendry in the shoulder.

“Yes, I’m the horrible person who won’t allow you to re-injure yourself.”

“But you could show me the wrist movements while you’re sitting.”

Brienne knocked the sword from Sansa’s hand and Jon smiled. “Practice holding onto the sword and then you can learn the water dancing.”

She groaned in frustration. “The sword is heavy.”

Gendry extracted himself from Arya and moved over to Sansa, his hammer in his hand. “Give me your sword.” She handed it over and he dropped his hammer into her hands and she dropped it immediately. “You’ll get comfortable with what you practice with.”

Arya piped up behind him. “What about the knife? It’s small.”

“Also puts someone too close,” Jon responded. Gendry lifted his hammer and gave Sansa back her sword. “You don’t have to practice with a great sword. Maybe the smith has something smaller and more lightweight.”

“Or he could make me something,” Sansa said as she walked away toward the forge.

Gendry moved over to Arya and sighed. “She’s exhausting.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m easier to get along with?”

He barked out a laugh before he could control it and she gave him a sour look, her eyes flashing dangerously, but he didn’t wipe the smile from her face. “You’ve thrown four people out of your room, not to mention two crutches, a book, and a fire poker. You’ve not been easy to get along with .”

“Why have you done all of that?” Jon asked. Brienne muttered something about going to make sure Sansa didn’t put too much of a task on the poor smiths, and Pod and Tormund followed. That left Gendry and Arya alone with Jon.

“Because people keep insisting that I’m hurt and I can’t do things for myself.”

Gendry rolled his eyes. “To be fair, when they originally said that, you’d just been carted off the field bleeding. The tourniquet had only just been removed.”

“Sansa had already said something to me about not wanting me to go South. She made me angry.”

“She said something to me as well,” Jon replied. “She’s worried about you.”

Arya narrowed her eyes. “Did she? And what did you say?”

He sighed. “She asked me if I could dissuade you. I told her that no one would be able to talk you out of something you wanted to do. I have no intention of stopping you. If you want to go South with us then I welcome you at my side.”

Gendry knew there was going to be more to this conversation. Arya sighed and cut off anything else Jon was going to say. “Sansa says you’re getting married.”

He nodded. “I am. What about you?”

Arya rolled her eyes and Gendry smirked. If Jon had to ask then it meant he hadn’t heard Arya’s philosophy on marriage. He only hoped that he didn’t fall down from shock. She didn’t have the most tact.

“I’ll get married if and when I want to. Not before then. And no one will make me.”

Jon looked at Gendry. “And you accept this?”

He furrowed his brow and glanced at Arya. “She’d slit my throat otherwise.”

“When we defeat Cersei, which I’m completely confident we will, will you come back North?”

Arya sighed. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

Jon looked at Gendry again. “We’ve already called you Gendry Baratheon to an assembly of Lords. We can do a formal naming if you want.”

Gendry took a deep breath and looked at Arya who stared at him with curiosity. He shook his head. “I’m not one for ceremony.”

Jon heaved a sigh. “Gendry walk with me a moment, won’t you?”

Arya furrowed her brow. “What about me?”

“Can you get down?” Jon asked as both he and Gendry watched her face change to fury.

“With help, I can!”

Jon nodded and smiled. “Good. Gendry?” he gestured in front of him, away from Arya.

“Get me down,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t touch her. Let her do it herself. She’s said how much she hates help,” Jon responded with a half smile.

She scraped together snow and threw it at Jon, but he ducked it though winced as he did. Gendry had already moved away from her and he could hear her groan in frustration as he looked back at her. They stopped on the other side of the wall, out of earshot of Arya, watching for a moment as she assessed her position. Gendry knew if she jumped, then she’d jostle herself too much and would cause more pain. For the moment, she truly was stuck. “Making you the legitimate heir of House Baratheon was an easy decision, one which has some limitations.”

Gendry looked down then met Jon’s eyes. “Which are?”

“You’re...careful. You and I both know what it’s like to grow up bastards. Don’t do that to a child. It’s a hellish existence at times.”

Gendry frowned and nodded. He took a deep breath and looked at the ground for a moment before once more meeting Jon’s eyes. He was one of the few people who knew what it felt like to not belong. “I understand.”

“Making you the heir makes the possibility of you marrying her less of a problem. And should some of the Northron lords start demanding that Arya is married to one of their sons for the sake of a permanent alliance, you’ll say you’re betrothed.”

“And you’ll have a nice pyre constructed for me when she kills me for making such a statement?”

Jon chuckled and glanced at Arya, then back at Gendry. “It’ll be decent enough. It’s for her safety. You know that.”

“Knowing it and convincing her of it are two different things. I’ll talk to her.”

Jon nodded. “I hope you do. You better go get her before she kills you.”

Gendry looked over his shoulder at Arya who was glaring at him. “Good to see you up moving around.” He walked away from Jon and back to a fuming Arya.

“You’re going to tell me what he said...” she demanded as he walked closer.

“Am I now? Are you really in a position to tell me what to do?”

“I’ll make you suffer,” she warned.

He shrugged. “I can leave you here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Sure of yourself are you?”

She smiled and tugged the front of his tunic to bring him closer. “If you don’t tell me what he said you can join the Unsullied.”

He smiled. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No. More of a warning to not let you have a bastard. Things you and I have talked about. He did show some concern that some of the Northron lords might demand that you marry one of their sons for an alliance. And should that happen, we announce we’re betrothed, whether or not we are.”

She frowned. “Feels like a trick to get me to marry you.”

“I told you, I’ll take you however I can get you. I would never trick you into marrying me. I love you. If you choose to marry me, so be it.”

Arya was silent for a moment and frowned. “I hate all of this. Lords trading in their children for alliances that don’t last. It makes whatever happened before seem meaningless. It seems to me all alliances end at some point. You can never trust everyone to hold to their word.”

Gendry frowned. “No, you can’t. I learned a long time ago that you can’t trust people to be honorable.” He traced the lace of her boot along her ankle and then looked up at her. “Then again, sometimes you meet people that surprise you. Yoren protected the both of us, gave his life trying to protect us. You turned out to be honorable. Your brother. Seems to me, the Dragon Queen, Brienne, even that Wildling fellow all seem to be people of honor. They exist, they’re simply rare.”

She smiled and held out her hand. “Help me down from here,” she said and he took her hand and put it on his shoulder as he lifted her from the boxes and put her on her feet. He picked up her crutch from where it had fallen and handed it to her. “Where to, m’lady?”

“Don’t make me throw this at you,” she said with a smile.

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Daenerys stood out at the field petting Drogon and Rhaegal, neither of whom were willing to share their mother’s attention. She moved her hand along the scales of Rhaegal’s nose while Drogon nuzzled her head against his. She’d missed her children while she’d been cooped up inside the castle. She could have left. A broken arm was a paltry injury compared to those who lost limbs or their lives.

She still hadn’t reconciled in her heart that Jorah was gone. It made her feel wretched. She knew he was in love with her. He’d said as much. She simply never felt that way about him. It pained her to think that he died not knowing how she cared for him so, even if it wasn’t the way he wanted. She should have made time to talk to him. Part of her just always assumed he would be there and she could do it later. But there was no later for Jorah. He was gone and she was filled with regret.

If I look back, I’m lost . It was something she repeated to herself often enough that she should be able to accomplish it with ease. But it didn’t come easily to her at all. It was an internal war within her to not look back and second-guess herself. Maybe Jorah was just something she would have to carry with her forever.

Drogon and Rhaegal both turned towards the gate and she knew that it was because of Jon without having to look up. Rhaegal move away from her and went to Jon, obviously feeling a sort of kinship with the man who had ridden him into battle. She watched him gently pet Rhaegal’s long neck and then continue walking to Daenerys.

“If Sansa’s not supposed to walk around without an escort, why do you think it’s safe for you?”

She turned to him slowly and smiled. “I’m safer here than anywhere else. What fool would attack me with them around?”

Jon frowned. “A great many fools,” he petted Drogon as well and the dragon settled on the ground.

Rhaegal nudged Daenerys at her belly and blew smoke from his nostrils at her. “They’re acting strangely.”

“How so?”

She furrowed her brow. “They’re being more gentle. Almost as if they know I’m hurt. They’re trying to protect me, as usual.”

“You are their mother.” He frowned deepened and he turned her to face him fully and put his hands on her hips. “What is it?”

She looked to the ground and then at Drogon with his massive head lying beside them. “I know we’ve agreed to this marriage and we’ve also discussed my inability to have children. But I wanted to make sure that you knew what you were giving up if you married me. You’ll never have a child from you and me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. “I know, Dany,” she looked up at him through her lashes. “You’ve said it a few times before.”

“In the Dragon Pit, you expressed sentiments that you didn’t believe it. But you and I have been sharing a bed for many moons now, Jon. I hope you realize that...though I would want nothing more than to give you a child, it’s simply not going to happen.” She managed to keep her tears at bay, though she didn’t know how. It made her feel hollow and empty that she couldn’t give him the family he deserved. It was one place she felt less than other people. Her dragons were her children, and fearsome though they were, they weren’t a babe she could hold in her arms. They would never have Jon’s hair and her eyes. They would never exist. It was a cruel twist that she found a man she truly loved and she couldn’t have his child.

He stepped forward and took her hand in his. He brought her gloved hand up to kiss and sighed. “Whether or not you can give me a child doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He looked at the ground and watched the wind whip snow around them as it swirled at their feet. “Nothing, at this point, could change how I feel about you.”

She smiled and felt a tear trace down her cheek. He brushed it away with his gloved finger before she moved into the circle of his arms, careful of his ribs and her own hand as she let him hold her. “I love you, Jon Snow.” He placed a kiss on her nose and she couldn’t help the grin that came unabashedly to her face. Her King in the North was so unlike what she thought. What she knew of Northmen was that they were little better than savages. Jon Snow was anything but a savage. He was gentle, kind, generous, and more than she could have hoped for when she’d left Essos. “How are you feeling?”

She found herself soothed by his little smile. “I’m doing better. Getting out yesterday was good for me. Being out here with you, now, is even better.”

Daenerys leaned up and kissed him. “You certainly look like you’re moving around better. I’m glad. I hate seeing you in pain.”

He frowned. “I know the feeling. I panicked watching you fall from Drogon.”

She frowned as well and brushed a finger over his lips, trying to chase it away. “Not one of my favorite moments. I hated seeing what had become of Viscerion. He took him and manipulated him. Did you see there were holes in his wings?” she whispered. It had been horrible to behold.

He nodded. “I did. We brought him down, though. We killed the Night King.”

She walked with Jon back through the gates. “Now, there’s only the monster currently on the Iron Throne.”

Jon stopped walking momentarily and she realized that it was because he was winded. She didn’t know when his ribs would heal, but she hated to see him in pain. As he caught his breath, he did post a raspy question to her, “What exactly do you think her plan was? She had to know that we won or the dead won. Either way, she doesn’t keep her throne.”

Daenerys shook her head. “I don’t know. Perhaps she was hoping that the Gold Company could get to King's Landing before she had to fight. Perhaps she thinks she can withstand a siege.”

“Could they?” he wondered aloud.

They continued their walk into the keep and into Jon’s study. She knew it once belonged to his...uncle, but it now showed traces of him. He removed his gloves and his heavy cloak and helped her with the cloak Sansa had made for her. He closed the door behind them and moved to sit in front of the fire. “They might be able to withstand for a fortnight. I don’t know how long those people would stay within the walls peacefully once they start to starve. And we also have dragons. That tips it in our favor a bit.”

“The Gold Company has elephants.” He looked at her then. “Have you ever seen elephants?”

She smiled. “Once. When I was a child. I didn’t have many dealings with the Gold Company except for Jorah,” her mind wandered again to her loyal knight who had fallen. Jon took her hand in his, sensing her pain. She shook it off and sat across from him. “I do have the Second Sons in my employ.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You have three armies.”

She smiled. “I do. I must have told you this.”

He shook his head. “How did you get the Second Sons?”

She leaned back in her seat. “The Second Sons had three leaders. Two of them wanted me dead or in their bed at their mercy. The third...would have liked me to be at his mercy. Daario killed the other two and brought me their heads.”

Jon frowned. “So, you actually had nothing to do with it other than some leader decided that he wanted you?”

She smiled. “I didn’t burn anyone alive if that’s what you mean. I was simply the catalyst for Daario.”

Jon looked at the fire. “Did he get you?”

She tilted her head. “For a while,” she answered honestly. She felt no need to lie to him about a man she left behind so easily. “I left him in Mereen. I thought it would be hard because I thought I cared for him. I didn’t care as much as he wanted.” He seemed to huff out a breath and she smiled. “Are you jealous?”

He turned his head and looked at her. “No.”

She grinned and stood in front of him. “You shouldn’t be. There is no comparison for how I feel about him to how I feel about you.” She moved to gently sit in his lap and stroked his jaw with her hand. “You are my perfect match, Jon.”

He moved his hand over her hip and brought her down to kiss him. They stayed that way for a few moments, simply kissing. It was strange that she could be content with nothing but his kisses. Other times she’d be ready to just get down to it and rush a coupling. But Jon was still injured and she refused to be the source of his pain and so it never moved beyond his arms around her as his lips moving against hers. They only broke apart at the knock on the door and Daenerys moved back to her chair. He bid them enter and both Tyrion and Davos entered the room.

“Good, you are both here,” Tyrion said as he held out a scroll from a raven. Jon took it but she could see the Lannister house sigil. “I thought we should all hear her threat together.”

Jon removed the seal and read the letter aloud. “To the Dragon Bitch and Her Northern Dog. Come to King’s Landing with whatever remains of your army. The Gold Company welcomes you. If you surrender, I’ll make your deaths painless. If you refuse, you and everyone you love will die screaming. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei Baratheon.”

Daenerys smirked. “She’s humble.”

“She’s mad,” Tyrion sighed. “She doesn’t care how many people die. She almost welcoming it because she knows you both care.”

Jon frowned. “So, what do we do?”

“We plan. You’ll go to King’s Landing married, with dragons, the Dothraki, The Unsullied, what Northmen we can convince to join us, and we’ll develop siege weapons as we gather our forces.”

“What if she strikes before we’re ready?” Davos questioned. “It would be smarter for her to already have an army marching North rather than waiting for us to go South. Catch us unaware.”

“But we’re not unaware,” Tyrion answered. “We know that she could strike at any moment. I believe she is most likely trying to take over the lands that she lost. She needs the support of those houses. She will need their armies to fight against us.”

“How many houses?” Jon asked.

“Large houses, twelve, roughly. It depends on if she decides to sway Dorne.”

“Could she?” Daenerys asked.

“Considering the Martells aligned with you...she might be able to convince them that we got their queen killed,” Tyrion responded.

Jon heaved a sigh. “We leave one war to start another.”

“The war against my sister was started the moment they crowned her queen. Before that, actually. They did seek to kill our queen from the moment of her birth.”

Daenerys tilted her head. “That reminds me. Where is Varys?”

“He’s received several ravens over the last few days. I believe he’s compiling information.”

“Let us hope that it provides something useful,” she remarked. “How many Dothraki remain?”

“We’ve estimated you still have a force of sixty-thousand.”

“And Unsullied?”

“Two thousand. Roughly,” Tyrion answered.

“Northmen? Knights of the Vale?”

“Lord Royce said around nine hundred. And I believe we have a count of just over one thousand of your sworn shields.”

Daenerys sighed and paced to the window and gave voice to the one thing she knew Cersei had at her disposal that could give her an edge. “Let me ask you, Tyrion, what are the chances that she uses Wildfire?”

The room grew silent as the fire in the hearth crackled. “More than I would like to comprehend.”

She turned to them and frowned. “It’s a weapon she has at her disposal. Why wouldn’t she use it? She has before.”

Tyrion frowned. “She has. I suppose that is something we have to consider.”

“We have to fight smarter to save all of those people. What would she not expect?”

He heaved a sigh. “That’s the thing, your grace, I almost feel as if in the current state of her mind she would expect everything. She’s mad, yes, but she’s also a student of my father, one of the greatest ever at the game.”

Jon sighed. “Stop referring to this as a game. None of this is a game. These are people’s lives we’re talking about. People who have no choice but to live in a city she rules. How do we keep all of them from dying?” At the pause, Jon tilted his head at Tyrion. “If you tell me it’s a good question, I’ll toss you into this fire.”

Daenerys hid her smile by turning back to the window. Davos was the one to speak. “She needs the people to remain docile if she’s going to withstand a siege. What if we riled them up?”

She looked at the older man and moved away from the window. “How?”

“A person is able to be reasoned with. People in a mob are not. All it would take would be whispered words in alleys or brothels and...”

“There would be unrest.”

“Cersei would strike it down immediately.”

“We don’t only go after the peasants. Surely we could find a few Lords or even Ladies that would be loyal to the Targayrens. Varys has his little birds, as you call them. Let’s use them.”

Jon looked at Daenerys and shrugged. “It’s worth a try, at least, isn’t it?”

Tyrion nodded. “It is. We make it known that you’re coming south, that war will hit King’s Landing. They’ve already seen the armies. They know you have Dothraki screamers and dragons. That would be enough to make them unruly, to begin with. But to know that King chosen by the people of the North is marching south with Queen who freed the slave cities could be enough to make them wonder if a better life is possible.”

Daenerys crossed her hands in front of her. “And we bring a Baratheon with us.”

Davos frowned. “That puts Gendry in danger.”

“We’ve already pronounced him as a Baratheon in front of the Lords of the North. It may be what we need to sway the Stormlands to not support Cersei.”

Jon closed his eyes for a moment and he looked tormented. She hated to see him so distraught. “We’ll make sure he agrees first. Arya as well as it would also affect her.”

“How so?” Tyrion questioned.

“Anyone that goes near Gendry will have to go through her, first,” Jon responded. “A scary prospect, but it does influence their future.”

Davos chimed in. “I could talk to Gendry if you want.”

Jon shook his head. “No, she’s my sister. I’ll talk to them. I know she has no intention of getting married anytime soon.”

Tyrion frowned. “Not that I’m judging, but she does realize how that probably looks to others.”

Daenerys smiled and leaned back in her chair. “I would love to watch you tell her, Tyrion.”

He shook his head and even Jon smirked. “Either way, I would never force her to marry anyone, even if she is in love with him. It happened to Sansa twice. I won’t do it to Arya.” He looked at Tyrion and nodded slightly. “No offense.”

“None taken. But, Gendry being Robert’s son, and looking remarkably like him, does help. We could send him to the Stormlands to see if he could rally them.”

“Again, I’ll talk to them,” he responded. “Let’s get back to Cersei. What about your brother?”

Tyrion sighed. “I don’t know.”

“He rode North for a reason,” Daenerys said. “You told me he killed my father to keep innocent people from dying. She’s already destroyed the Sept of Baelor and killed countless innocent people from the explosion around it. Would he do something similar to prevent the entire city from being destroyed.”

Tyrion frowned and shook his head. “I hardly know, your grace. Jaime has honor. He’s betrayed it several times for family or ambition. But he does have it. Whether or not that would lead him South with us, I don’t know. I would hope he would see that this means more than just Cersei’s life. And...I should tell you...she’s pregnant.”

Daenerys felt something inside her freeze. How could that horrible woman be pregnant with another child? She’s already wrought enough of her horror onto the world. “And Jaime is the father?”

“Yes. She has no intention of claiming it to be anyone else’s.”

Jon lowered his head. “This keeps getting more difficult.”

“Cersei dies the child dies,” Davos said softly. “I don’t like her. Hate her actually, but...”

“The baby did nothing,” Daenerys frowned. “I know. I’m feeling less certain, now.”

Tyrion sighed. “Any child she has would be a threat to your reign.”

Jon faced him. “It’s still an innocent child. Your niece or nephew. Are you really so set on Cersei’s destruction that you don’t care about that?”

Tyrion frowned. “No. Tommen and Myrcella were my fault. I’ve lost them. I would hate to lose another. But how many people stand to lose their lives if she remains on the throne. You can’t leave her alive. She’ll find some way to destroy all of us.”

Daenerys sighed, trying to reign in her fury to think of Cersei being allowed to have another child when she was unable to have any. Her only child lost to her at the hands of a witch. However, she looked at Jon. “What do you think?”

“Tyrion, talk to Jaime. Maybe if he can talk to her and get her to surrender...”

“That’s not going to work...”

“You have to try,” Jon said emphatically. “You can’t condemn a child because of who his parents are.”

It suddenly dawned on Daenerys that he was speaking more from personal experience rather than an objective party. She looked at her Hand and nodded. “Talk to Jaime. Maybe he can figure out a way to do this without everyone in King’s Landing dying.” Tyrion nodded. “Leave us,” she said to both Davos and Tyrion and they did as ordered and closed the door behind them.

“What was it you said to me when I entered your hall? Don’t condemn a daughter for the sins of her father.”

“I did say that. I meant it, then. I mean it, now,” she said as she took his hand. “If there is a way, we will figure out how to...spare the child. Possibly send Jaime back to Casterly Rock.”

“I can’t imagine someone choosing another option.”

She took a steadying breath and spoke softly, “The situation we’re in is a special one. A lot of people, though, wouldn’t be so forgiving of Cersei and the Lannisters. Your own sister asked you for Jaime’s head. It’s not so easy for everyone to separate the parents from the child.”

“Caitlyn never could,” he responded.

She moved to the floor and knelt in front of him and cupped his face with her good arm. “I’m sorry that you were treated that way. I would give anything to erase that pain. You didn’t deserve it. But as I told you, any other way and you might not be alive. She would have treated you differently if she had known. Allowing her to believe that you were Ned Stark’s bastard kept you alive. It was terrible for you, I know. I can see it on your face when you think of it. But he protected you.”

He captured her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Get off the floor,” he said softly. “It wouldn’t do for someone to come into the room and find you kneeling in front of me.”

She gave him a small smile. “If only they knew how quickly I would fall to my knees for you.” She stood and he leaned forward and rested his head against her belly. She moved her fingers through his dark hair at his nape. He looked up at her and she traced the scar above his eye. “You carry too much of this on your own.”

He smiled. “I think that will be a common theme during our marriage and rule.”

She leaned down and kissed him. “Long may we reign.”

Chapter Text

ARYA

“My lady?” Arya stopped walking and turned to Maester Wolken, who no matter how many times she told not to call her that insisted. She’d stopped correcting him days ago. Gendry turned as well, always at her side, his Warhammer in his hand at his side. If she had been Sansa or any other foolish girls that thought she needed protecting, she would have found his constant presence at her side romantic. Arya was beyond that. Or so she told everyone that would listen, including her protector. She would never allow him to know how much she liked him being with her. He already knew she cared about him, more than she would like to admit. She scoffed at herself. It was more than care. She loved him.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Your brother has requested an audience with you and Lord Gendry.”

She tried to keep herself from laughing as Gendry rolled his eyes at the title. “Bran or Jon?”

“King Jon,” he responded. “He’s in his study.”

She nodded and sighed. Her current adversary was stairs. She could make it up to them, but it was a long and laborious procedure. Some days she wished Gendry would get frustrated with her slow pace and simply carry her up the flight. He didn’t, and she didn’t ask. She could do it herself, though it took a lot out of her. She knew if she climbed the flight to see Jon, she would not walk back down them the rest of the day. They would simply retire to their room where she would try her hardest to seduce Gendry. He was being more bullheaded than ever and it was frustrating. She wasn’t incapable of doing anything, but he wouldn’t relent and it was causing her ire to peak more than usual. If she was honest, her irritation at Gendry refusing her had caused her to throw her crutch at Brienne. Sansa deserved it.

Arya gave him and nod and they changed course into the keep. “Wonder if he’s going to insist we get married.”

Gendry shook his head. “If he was going to do that he would have said something earlier.”

As they entered the castle, she put a little more weight on her leg. She could feel the muscle stretching and even where the skin was pulled together. She hated feeling so weak. She was one of the deadliest killers in all of Winterfell, but now she was being beaten by her own body.  Gendry followed behind her as she made her way up the stairs, putting her foot down and actually distributing her weight more evenly. She smiled in triumph as she made it up the stairs in half the time she had the day before. Arya only hoped he would take that as a sign that she was truly on the mend and that he didn’t have to treat her like she was going to break if he touched her.

She knocked on the study door and Daenerys opened it to let them in. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Jon’s voice stopped her. “Actually, it might be best if you stayed.”

Arya and Gendry moved inside and she moved to stand before him where he was sitting. Jon nodded at the chair for Arya to sit but she hated being told what to do and so she refused. Gendry, however, put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her backward into the seat and she glared up at him. “I will hurt you.”

“So you keep saying,” he said, looking unintimidated by the threat.

Daenerys had walked to stand beside Jon, a soft smile on her face. “You seem to be getting around better.”

“I’m moving around well enough. Once people stop treating me like I’ll break, I’ll be even better.”

“Daenerys and I have been talking about the war to come. We defeated the dead, but Cersei still sits on the Iron Throne and the people suffer for it.”

Arya nodded. “No surprise there.”

Jon sighed. “We believe have an army that can defeat her. But we need to remove her allies, anyone that could be loyal to her.”

Gendry frowned. “You want Arya to kill them?”

Jon glanced up at Daenerys and then shook his head. “No. We need the heir to Robert Baratheon.”

Arya looked up at Gendry and could see his face pale. “Need me for what?”

“You’re the heir to the Storm Lands. To Storm’s End. It’s one of the large houses of the South. We’ve already called you Robert’s son. It would only take a word from us to the Citadel to make you Gendry Baratheon on paper. But, more importantly, we need you to be Gendry Baratheon.”

“Why?”

“We want you to go to Storm’s End. We want you to see if you can rally them to our side.”

Arya shook her head. “And what if they decide they don’t want to honor Robert’s son? What if they decide to kill him?”

“That’s why you’d go with him.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to King’s Landing. I will be the one to kill Cersei.”

Jon shook his head. “We need something different from you, Arya. We need you to go with him, to make his claim. We need a Lady of Winterfell, a true Lady of the North, to be united with the heir to Storm’s End. I’m not saying you have to marry him. I would never force that on you. But I do need you to be aligned.”

“And if they refuse?”

“We’re not sending you alone. You will go with a host of Dothraki and Unsullied.”

“So, you want me to ride South, claim Storm’s End with foreign warriors?”

Arya shook her head. “This is a bad idea.”

“Are you saying that because you want to be the one to kill Cersei or do you actually believe it to be a bad idea?” Daenerys asked, her eyebrow raising slightly. Arya felt unease at how well she was able to read her. When she continued to speak, Arya begrudgingly respected her more, “I understand wanting revenge. Wanting to watch everyone who’s caused you nothing but misery to die. But sometimes we have to serve a higher purpose. Jon doesn’t wish to be King. But he is the heir. He is the King I choose. We all do things we don’t want to do because it will make other people’s lives better.”

Gendry scowled. “This is mad. Why would anyone follow me?”

Jon smirked. “I ask myself that all the time. You know who you are. It’s hard when most of your life you question why you were even born, much less is the world better because you’re here. If anyone understands that, I do. I don’t want to be King. I thought at most I would be First Ranger of the Night’s Watch. I was content with that. Fate has given me something different. I can still protect the realm, but better now than I could have before.”

Arya frowned. “What is it you want us to do?”

“We’ll send word to the Citadel that we’ve legitimized you as Gendry Baratheon. We’ll let them distribute word. And we’ll have Varys’s little birds send word back if there is interest in having you claim the Storm Lands. If there is, we would send you south before us, both of you, and ask you to take what belonged to your father. You come from a line of men who knew what they wanted and what they were. I met Stannis. He was absolute in his right to be King. I need you to be absolute in your right to the Storm Lands.”

He shook his head. “This is asking a lot.”

Jon frowned and nodded. “It is. It’s a heavy burned that we’re laying on you. Both of you. Cersei will be defeated, how remains to be seen. But we need to at least try this approach.”

“It puts a target on Gendry,” Arya said. “All of this puts everyone here in danger. Not only is the King in the North aligned with the Mother of Dragons, but now you’re asking Gendry to be the legitimate heir to Robert Baratheon. What do you think Cersei will do? We’ll be lucky she doesn’t try to have us all slaughtered in our beds.”

Jon nodded. “Which is why we’re discussing this. I wouldn’t do anything without asking you. I called you Gendry Baratheon in a hall of Lords because I wanted them to respect you as someone other than my sister’s...consort.” Arya nearly smiled at how hard it was for Jon to say the word ‘consort’, but the seriousness of the situation blocked any of the levity out of it. “They needed to know a warrior was on the field. Robert’s fight with Rhaegar in the Trident is one of legend. You have a war hammer. Many of those men fought alongside your father. They respect the name. Others will as well.”

Arya looked up at Gendry and could see he was conflicted. She turned back to Jon and Daenerys. “You’ll let us discuss it?”

Daenerys nodded. “Of course. Take your time. Jon won’t be ready to march south anytime soon. And we still have a wedding to occupy our time until then.”

Arya nodded and stood. She took a deep breath and looked at them, Daenerys’s hand still nestled in Jon’s. “I’m sorry you can’t have children.”

Daenerys smiled weakly at her. “Thank you.”

She gave one last nod and they left the room. Gendry leaned against the wall once the door was shut then dropped his hammer against the stone. He put his head in his hands, her heart ached for him, and so she reached out and touched his shoulder. “Gendry?” He looked up at her, frustration and anger written over his features. She stepped closer to him. “Let’s retire and we’ll talk,” she whispered.

He gave her a nod and followed her down the hall, and noticed that the hammer seemed to be heavier to him now.

*~*

Arya had dinner brought up to her room for both of them and he had remained silent since they had returned. She thought he would start talking, but she should have known that the stubborn bull wouldn’t relent so easily. They ate in silence as well and it was starting to make her angry.

When they finished and she watched him remove his jerkin, she knew she would have to be the one to talk first. She was seated on the edge of the bed and had removed one boot and was slowly working on the other. “I thought we were going to talk.”

He pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it to the floor. She was nearly distracted from the seriousness of the conversation by the fact that a shirtless Gendry left her somewhat breathless.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said as he sat beside her on the bed. “I never intended any of this when I told Jon who I was.”

“I know. You’re nothing if not humble.”

He sighed. “What do you think?”

“I think the whole idea is flawed. It’s asking people to believe something that no one can confirm.” She looped her arms through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “It feels so much bigger than us.”

“It is. It’s about the good of the realm.”

She looked up at him and leaned her forehead against his shoulder and entwined his fingers with hers. “I simply wanted to ride south and kill Cersei. It seems as if that’s being taken from me.”

“And a new burden is being put in place,” he responded.

“It would technically make you the heir after Jon and Daenerys. You could sit on the Iron Throne.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s all I need,” he muttered and she smiled. “If they live long enough, Jon and Daenerys, then it could potentially be our children that would sit on the throne.”

“Children? You think I’m having more than one?”

He smiled. “I don’t care. I only wanted to be with you. The fact that any of this is happening is...more than I ever thought I would get. But I’m not sure I want any of it.”

Arya nodded. “You don’t have to decide now.”

“This is beyond frustrating,” he responded, squeezing her hand.

She nodded. “I’m sorry. This sends all of our plans to the wayside.”

“Using the ‘good of the realm’ was rather ingenious. It’s hard to say ‘no’ when you think you could potentially save the lives of thousands of people.”

She stood and put her hands on his knees. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you. Gendry Baratheon or Gendry Waters, you’re still my stubborn bull.” She turned her back to him. “Now help me get this thing off,” she ordered.

He began untying the laces. “I know one thing, even if I did accept their offer, you’d still order me around.”

She smirked. “Why would that change?”

He finished and tugged it over her head and pulled her closer by her tunic. “I don’t want it to.” She leaned forward and kissed him, her hands cupping his face. “Let’s not start something we won’t finish...”

“Don’t give me that,” Arya huffed. “You’re going to finish me,” she said as she bit at his lips.

He smirked against her lips. “Oh, am I?” She tugged her tunic off with her one good arm and pressed her lips to his as she moved her hands down to the laces of his leathers.  He captured her wrists and pulled away from her. He released one of her hands and brought his fingers to the bandage that sat around her shoulder. “I know you hate this and me for saying it, but you’re still injured and I don’t want to hurt you.”

She shook her head and moved even closer to him. “You won’t. I promise. If you do, you know I’ll tell you,” she said as her lips moved down his neck.

She felt his fingers on the bare skin of her back and gooseflesh where Gendry touched. “You make it very hard to say ‘no’.”

She grinned against his skin. “I want to make it impossible.” She dropped her hands back to the laces and slipped her hands inside and he groaned her name as she felt him swell beneath her fingers. He gasped as she pumped over his heated flesh.

He grabbed her wrists and stopped her again and he stood. She was nearly ready to throw him out when she felt him untie the top of her leathers and then tugged them down gently. He turned them so her back was against the bed and he pushed her to sit as he tugged her breeches gently down her legs, always mindful of her injury. He pulled her to the very edge of the bed and before she could protest at his manhandling of her, he was on his knees in front of her and his tongue was moving through her folds. She braced herself on her good arm and held the back of his head in place with her other. She’d been wanting this for so long, she could already feel her body trembling in response to him. He sucked her clit into his mouth and she fell back on the bed, helpless under his tongue.

“Gen-dry,” she moaned, nearly breathless as each swipe of his tongue brought her closer. She was pulled tight like a bow, so close to snapping. She nearly screamed when he pulled away from her and stood. But as he shed his leathers, she smiled in triumph. He couldn’t help himself either.

“You're okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be better when you’re inside me,” she groaned as he rubbed himself against her folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against her clit. He put her good leg over his shoulder and her breath caught as he entered her in one hard thrust.

Gendry braced his hands on the bed by her shoulders, each stroke a long slow pull out before slamming his hips forward hard. She slid her hands over his arms and up to his shoulders and finally cupping his face, locking eyes with his. Arya could see his affection for her on his face, the moments with him like this being when he was the most unguarded.

She was creating closer and closer and he changed the pace of his thrust shorter and more shallow. Arya rolled her hips against his, getting the friction she needed and she snapped, her climax rolling over her, causing her to shake beneath him. She was beyond thought or words. It had been too long. She barely registered his groan and only opened her eyes in time to watch him drop his head, his face scrunched up as he gasped her name.

She smiled, feeling spent and content. It was a few moments before Gendry withdrew from her and stood back. He grimaced. “Fuck,” he said as he moved away from her and over to the table beside the bed to grab fresh linens. She looked down and saw that the bandage around her leg had red splotches on it.

As she sat up, she could see that he was angry. She stilled his hands. “Stop. You didn’t hurt me.” He didn’t look convinced. “I wouldn’t lie to you. You know that. It doesn’t hurt. In fact, this is the best I’ve felt in over a week.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

She cupped his face, a teasing smile on her face. “Barely.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. He tugged his leathers on once more and went about replacing her bandage. She stared at him, his face a study in concentration as he examined the wound. None of the stitches had come undone, but the seem of the wound was bleeding a bit. Maybe they simply needed to get more creative in how they did it. When he tied off the bandage he threw the soiled linen onto the table beside the bed. She continued to smile at him and he looked aggrieved. “Proud of yourself?”

She nodded. “I am. Aren’t you?”

“I’ll answer that when you stop bleeding.”

She rolled her eyes. “How can you be so unhappy after that?”

He sighed and put his hands on either side of her hips and leaned forward. “I’m not unhappy about that and you know it.”

Arya smirked and kissed him. “I’m not hurt, I promise. I wouldn’t let you hurt me. You know that, right?”

He nodded. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning.”

“And if I’m fine we can do it again?”

He tilted his head a wary smile on his lips. She loved him. She wondered if that made her weaker or stronger. “Well, it would be wrong to waste the opportunity...”

Arya smiled in response, knowing that he made her stronger. There was no weakness in them. They were certain about one another. If the rest of the world were so easy to figure out as her feelings for him, then the wars would be over and the killing would be done. He was hers. She was his. “So, I should appeal to your sense of right and wrong?” He smirked at her and she bit gently along his jaw to his ear and whispered. “Then you owe me days worth of your mouth and cock.”

The sound of his chuckle shot straight through her and caused her to shiver. “You have a filthy mouth for a lady.”

She grinned. “You have no idea.” She could see that he was clenching his teeth and she brought his lips against hers, tasting herself on his tongue.

His arms moved around her waist and he broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “I wish it could just be us, forever.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist. Never in her life had she imagined that she would be able to bring someone comfort. But she would try for the man in front of her. “It will be us, forever. We simply might have other things that go along with it.”

He placed a chaste kiss on her lips then her nose. “You should get some sleep.”

“What about you?”

He sighed. “Not sure I can sleep.”

“I can’t sleep without you. Take off your pants and get in this bed," she laughed, hoping she broke the seriousness of the moment and when Gendry chuckled, she knew she had succeeded a bit.

“You’re really determined when you want something.” He pulled back from her though, walked to the other side of the bed and shed his pants as she requested. She moved over to him and lay facing him, her head resting on his bicep as his fingers traced over her back. He pulled the furs over them and she fit snugly against him.

“All joking aside, I’m with you. Whatever you do. I’m at your side,” she whispered.

He turned towards her a bit more, his other arm resting on her hip. He rested his lips against her brow and she heard him sigh. She hated this had all been laid upon him, but she knew they would survive this. Whatever Gendry decided, he was her future and she wouldn’t leave him to go through any of it alone.

Chapter Text

SANSA

Sansa stared at Daenerys as the maids laced up the dress that she’d had made for her wedding dress. The material was heavy as it would take place in the Godswood and the silver-haired beauty examined it as in the looking glass. When the maids finished, she brushed her hands over the front of the dress. The dress wasn’t white, but silver and it almost seemed to shimmer in the torchlight. Daenerys examined it from all angles then looked at Sansa. “It’s beautiful.”

She smiled and stepped forward and pointed out the hemline. “It will need to be taken up just a bit. We don’t want you to trip on it,” she said and the maid began to mark the dress where it would need to be hemmed. Sansa turned and unwrapped the cloak she’d made to go with the dress with a white fox draped across the neck with a red ribbon to tie it together.

When the maid finished, Sansa stood behind her and helped to drape it over her shoulders. Daenerys smiled and looked up at her. “This is...beyond words,” she said softly. “You have such a talent for this.”

Sansa sighed. “My mother made sure I knew how to do all of these things. Embroidery, sewing, it’s something that calms me.”

Daenerys smiled. “I love both the dress and the cloak.”

She gave her a wide smile. “I hope both survive your wedding night.”

She chuckled. “It has been a while,” she said as she untied the ribbon and handed the cloak back to her. “I’ll simply make sure he knows that if he tears it I’ll let Drogon eat him,” she jested.

Sansa shook her head. “I’ve seen him around those dragons. I don’t think Drogon would comply.”

Daenerys scoffed. “Yes. They are quite enamored with him. Which is good. It made him able to ride Rhaegal into battle,” she said as the maid helped her remove her clothes and Sansa turned her back to give her privacy. “What about you, Sansa? Not that Jon or I would ever force you to marry, but would you want to?”

Sansa folded the cloak away, careful to keep it from the floor. “I haven’t yet decided.”

She turned as Daenerys stood beside her and she nodded for the maid to leave them, and she took her leave with Daenerys’s dress. “I’ve not heard fully what happened to you. I know bits and pieces of what people are willing to disclose. What I know is that our stories are far too similar. Sold, betrayed, raped, and used. This world is harsh to women and when we become so they call us mad or seek to tame us.” She tilted her head. “Olenna Tyrell told me once that I need to be the dragon that I am. I was surrounded by intelligent men who would lead me their way, but do not listen to them and to trust myself. Be the wolf, Sansa. Don’t apologize for what makes you strong. Don’t ever apologize for your strength. People would seek to destroy or distort it.” She moved over to the mirror once more and made sure her dress sat on her shoulders the way she wanted.

She thought of Olenna Tyrell which led her to think of Margaery. She missed her sometimes. Cersei had killed her like she’d killed so many. Margaery deserved better, though. “The problem with most men is they see women as a means to an end. They want us for one thing and they don’t see beyond that,” she turned to face her. “It is their weakness. We were made better, stronger, than they were. It is our strength they fear.”

“Not all men,” Sansa answered.

She smiled. “No. Not all men. Most. Since I’ve been in Winterfell that seems to be the exception, especially with members of your house.”

“Jon told me your first meeting was not an easy one.”

Daenerys shook her head. “Indeed it was not. I thought when Tyrion sent the raven he made it very clear that if Jon came south to see me it would be to bend the knee and pledge fealty. He refused. He brought up my father killing your uncle and grandfather. I asked for forgiveness for the actions of my father. I know what he was. Tyrion has made no small effort to tell me. I think sometimes he worries that I am like him. Your brother seemed a bit surprised when I apologized.”

“I’m sure he was. We grew up on stories of our father overthrowing yours. Of Robert defeating Rhaegar and how our aunt was kidnapped and raped. To now find out that Robert’s entire rebellion, my grandfather’s entire reason for going South was built on a lie...” she frowned. “Why didn’t she tell anyone?”

Daenerys sat in one of the chairs and tilted her head at Sansa. “Because she loved him whether or not it was right. Had she told her father, it wouldn’t have mattered. She was betrothed to Robert. They would have made sure she married him. I don’t know why they never sent word that she left with him of her own accord. How many lives would it have saved? But had anything gone differently, all of this might not exist. Jon might not exist,” she said softly. “My brother made foolish mistakes. More than I can count. But, Bran assures me that he loved her and she loved him. I find it hard to condemn people who love one another when this world tries to crush it at every turn.”

Sansa sat across from her and heaved a sigh. “How do you not hate Jaime for killing your father? Because I would watch Joffrey and Cersei die every day for killing mine.”

Daenerys looked at her hands and sighed. “I believe a part of me does hate him. When my father died my life on the run began. I never felt safe. I never believed there would be a time that I could just breathe freely. But, I’ve spoken with Tyrion. I’ve heard about the caches of wildfire that were beneath the city. I know his final words were ‘burn them all’. He was cruel and mad.” She shook her head. “What would we have done in that position if we could have saved thousands of people? Would I have been able to stop him? Would you?”

Sansa frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. It’s why I can’t order him to be killed. He also turned his back on his sister. I know of their relationship. I know that right now she is carrying his child and that makes me conflicted.” Sansa’s eyes widened as she didn’t know about Cersei and anger burned inside her. How could they be so foolish? “Not that it’s his, but that a baby is sitting in her womb, and though she is evil, the child has the chance to not be so,” she looked at her hands.

“And I can not have children and part of me wants to rip her apart with my bare hands because how could someone so horrible be allowed the beauty of having a child? How can she reap onto this world what she does not deserve?” Daenerys was fighting back tears and Sansa reached forward and took her hand. She blinked back the tears and shook her head and swallowed the obvious lump in her throat. “Though I feel it is my right to claim the throne, how deserving of it am I if I can’t produce an heir to see out my vision?”

Sansa squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Jon knows?”

She nodded. “We’ve discussed it. I made sure he understood that it wasn’t a possibility. He doesn’t seem to feel that it’s a worthy enough reason to end our union. I love him for it, but I pity him as well. He deserves better.”

Daenerys stood and Sansa watched as she put her back to her and wiped her eyes. “You’re going to be queen. I believe you and Jon will make this kingdom better for your rule. It won’t be easy. Nothing in this world ever seems to be. But I think you’ll get what you wanted from the throne.”

She turned and looked at Sansa. “Thank you.” She sighed. “I feared coming North and meeting you. Meeting all of you. I thought you would all hate me, shun me. I was Targaryen and your brother had bent the knee. I was sure you’d see me as a monster. I dreaded it.” She smiled. “I should have known better. Jon surprised me at every turn; I should have expected his siblings would have done the same.”

Sansa frowned. “You still call us his siblings. For him to actually claim the Iron Throne, won’t he have to be Aegon Targaryen.”

Daenerys nodded. “Yes. I know that. I think somewhere inside him, he knows it, too. But to me, he’ll always be Jon. And he considers himself your brother. It would be a disservice to him and all of you to think of you in any other terms.”

Sansa gave her a half smile. “I’ll admit I was wary of meeting you. I knew if Tyrion was at your side, you couldn’t be as horrible as we’d heard. He’s too smart to follow a fool or tyrant.”

She sighed. “No, he does not suffer fools. And I don’t believe he would suffer a tyrant, either. He tries to control my impulses. He fails at times. But I don’t look back in regret. If I do...I lose my place. I can’t second guess my choices, though part of me always wants to. I have to have faith in myself. Now I have faith in Jon.”

Sansa frowned and decided to be honest with Daenerys. “Ramsay was cruel. Sadistic. If you only counted what he did to me...he would be a monster. But there was more than me. Theon...he destroyed him. Kept him in the kennels. Made him watch as he raped me on our wedding night,” she said and swiped at the traitorous tear that slid down her face. “He used knives, and though it’s been over a year, I still feel the things he did to me. I think of it less,” she said as she lowered her head. “I think of him less. All the monsters in my life blend into one and it fills me with hatred and fear. It makes me feel weak, and I hate that more.”

Daenerys moved over to Sansa and took her hand. “We are more than the horrors inflicted upon us. You are the Lady of Winterfell. You slew your monster. Fed him to his own. I can not think of a more fitting death for someone like him,” she said emphatically. “You are no one’s victim, Sansa Stark.

Sansa stood and nodded. “I’ll never be a victim again. I’ll not suffer fools or monsters. The lessons I learned were hard and unforgiving. But I learned them, just the same.”

A knock sounded at the door and Brienne appeared in the doorway. “Lady Sansa, you requested that we train with your new sword before sunset.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll need to stop by my room and change,” she said as she walked to the door and turned one last time to Daenerys. “You’ll make a beautiful bride. And a good queen,” she said with a smile before she left the room.

Brienne escorted Sansa down the hall to her room. “Are you alright, my lady?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Ready to learn how to defend myself,” she said as she entered her room and left Brienne guarding her door.

*~*

Arya huffed out a breath from where she stood against the wall watching Sansa. She hated hearing the irritation in her sister’s sigh, but she thought it was a bit unrealistic that Arya expected her to pick this up so fast.

Brienne swung her sword and Sansa ended up in the mud on her arse and she felt both embarrassment and irritation. Brienne extended a hand to Sansa to help her up and she looked between the two women. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re trying to fight her the way she fights,” Arya answered. “Your sword isn’t made for that,” she responded. “You had a smaller sword made because you wanted to learn how to be more fluid and the other was too heavy. Don’t fight like Brienne. You’ll never beat her if you fight her way.”

“Well, you’re not well enough to show me how to fight your way, so this is what I have to work with,” she responded, irritation coloring her tone.

“Show me your stance,” Arya said and Sansa stood with her sword in front of her, both hands on the hilt. “You can’t stand like that. Turn your body sideways,” she said and demonstrated for Sansa. “It’s a smaller target,” she explained.

“That makes holding the sword more awkward,” she responded as she held the sword out in front of her.

“Stop trying to fight with two hands,” Jaime’s voice sounded behind her and he walked towards them. “Your sword is meant for only one,” he explained. “Which is your dominate?”

“My right,” she said.

“Hold your sword aloft in your right hand and use your left to keep your balance.” She glanced at Arya who nodded. She lifted her hand, her sword held in her right hand out in front of her. “Arya is lower to the ground, it takes less to balance her. With your tall frame, you need your left hand to counter your movements with your right. As you swivel and turn, keep your left close to you, but far enough that the movement propels you into the next.”

He nodded at Brienne who swung her sword at Sansa in a downward sweep and he pulled back on her shoulder and used his left hand to direct her movement backwards as her right blocked the blow from Brienne’s sword.

She looked up at Brienne and then Arya with a smile. Arya clapped from her position on the wall and it was then Sansa noticed Tyrion was standing beside her. “My lady, money couldn’t buy the quality of the teachers you have at your disposal. Well done.”

Sansa curtseyed to him and then turned to Jaime and nodded. “Thank you.”

Arya’s voice broke through the small exchange. “You have a long way to go, but if I know you at all, you’ll be able to have this mastered. You were always good with your sewing needles.”

Sansa sheathed her sword at her side. “You’re rather exceptional with your own Needle, sister.”

Arya smirked. “Stick them with the pointy end,” she said as she reached for her crutch. “In two days, I’m done with this. And then you’ll face me, Brienne.”

The other woman nodded. “I look forward to it, my lady.”

She shook her head. “I’m not a lady,” she said as she started back towards the keep.

Tyrion nodded. “She’s rather fearsome, your sister.”

She nodded. “She’d kill you if she needed to.”

Tyrion smirked. “I’ll make sure she the need doesn’t arise. I’m glad to see you’re training with a sword.”

“Enough people suggested it. I thought they couldn’t all be wrong.”

“I don’t know, my lady, I tend to not listen to what everyone says. It’s a dangerous game. Most people are sheep.”

“It’s a good thing I’m a wolf and you’re lion.”

He nodded. “It is, indeed. I actually came out here looking for the queen. Have you seen her?”

She shook her head. “Not in a while. Jon either, for that matter.”

“Ah,” he said with a smirk. “They’re either flying or...or.”

Sansa blushed a bit. “I don’t know. She suggested to me that they weren’t currently doing that,” she said lowly. “Wherever they are, I’m sure they’re together.”

“Undoubtedly. I’ll continue searching.”

“Tyrion, you should have one of the Dothraki with you. Don’t chance someone wanting you dead.”

He nodded. “Very good advice, wife .”

“Don’t make me stab you with my new sword.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being your first victim,” he said as he walked away.

She called one of the Stark guards over to her. “Walk with Lord Tyrion and don’t let anyone hurt him,” she ordered. The guard nodded and followed Tyrion and obviously told him of her order for he turned and bowed his head in thanks at her.

She turned back to Brienne who was still speaking with Jaime and she approached them slowly. “With Bronn gone, I need to keep my skills sharp. You’re the only one I trust to train with, besides the Hound, but he swings like he aims to kill me, and I don’t know whether I can trust him not to.”

Sansa smirked thinking about the man that Joffrey called his dog. He was rough and mean to most people. He’d scared her more often than not when she’d been in King’s Landing. But she did remember that he had tried to get her to leave with him. She wondered what her life would have been if she had. Would she had ended up with Arya sooner? Would they have been killed? Would she have made it to Robb and her mother before they were killed? Would she have been with them at the end? There were so many questions. But she remembered what Daenerys had said about not looking back.

There was so much to her life that she could regret. But she was here and alive now. Maybe looking back and holding onto it all only made what she felt worse.

Brienne nodded. “I train with Podrick in the morning and evening. I suppose I could train with you as well.”

Sansa nodded and responded, “You should. You need someone with skill to fight against until Arya finally decides to pitch her crutch out the window. The Hound has gone off with Tormund hunting for the keep. No sense in letting either of your skills with the sword lax because of training with others. If you’re too tired to train with me, I can get Arya or even Jon for that matter to help me.”

Brienne nodded and Jaime turned to face her. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome. I believe dinner is probably ready to be served. I’d like to change before,” she said as she glanced at Brienne.

“Of course, my lady.”

Sansa noticed Podrick walking into the clearing. “But if this your time to train with Podrick, I can see myself into the keep.”

“No, my lady, I can wait to train later...”

“Nonsense,” Sansa responded. “You still have daylight. Use it,” she said as she turned to walk back inside.

“I’ll escort her,” Jaime said with a nod to Brienne and Sansa didn’t refuse the request, realizing it would have seemed rude and she was above being outwardly rude to people. They walked along in silence.

“You really don’t have to walk me,” she said softly. “I think I’m probably safe now.”

“This world is never safe,” he responded.

She heaved a sigh. “No, it’s not.”

As they entered the keep, she stomped her boots, trying to get rid of the mud and snow. “That’s a fine sword,” he said as he nodded to the piece hanging at her waist. “Did you know what you were asking for when he made it for you?”

She shook her head. “No. I only knew I needed something lighter than what I was using. Everyone seems to have suggestions on what I need and how I should do it.”

Jaime sighed. “There is a rhythm to fighting with a sword. Everyone has their way of doing it. Brienne and the Hound use their strength and skill. Your sister is quick and nimble. Bronn liked to punch me in the face as often as he could because as he said, always assume that people want to punch me.”

She nodded and began walking to her room, a small smile on her face. “I watched the two of you spar often enough. You got him a time or two.”

“He bested me more than I did him.”

She stopped walking. “At what point do you stop feeling sorry for yourself about your hand?”

“Excuse me?”

She shrugged. “You can’t bring it back. You can’t change it. At this point, you’re left to learn to live without it or dwell on the loss forever. You lost it when you thwarted men from raping Brienne. It’s hard on you, I’m sure. But what good does dwelling do?”

He frowned as something flashed behind his eyes and it made her a bit nervous. “I told you I’m not good of letting go of the past.”

“I’m not either. But maybe that’s something we could both learn,” she said as she continued walking to her room. She stopped outside her door. “Thank you for escorting me to my room.”

He nodded and turned to walk down the hallway away from her room. She opened the door and found Arya laying back on her bed staring at the ceiling. “What are you doing?” Sansa asked.

“Oh, just waiting for my sister,” she said as she stared at the stone above her. “When I was little, Mother and Father would let me crawl into the bed with them on a very rare occasion. I once counted all the stones on the ceiling outloud. I don’t know how they tolerated me.”

“You had a habit of weaseling your way into people’s hearts,” she answered as she removed her boots and put them by the fire. “Why are you in my room?”

Arya sighed and sat up on the bed. “Jon and Daenerys want Gendry to go to Storm’s End and claim it as Robert’s heir.”

Sansa moved to sit at her feet. “When did they tell you this?”

“A few days ago. Gendry and I have been talking about it at length. He’s tired of the conversation. I’m tired of it. But we have no solution. It ends with Gendry and I married and whatever children we have as the potential heirs.”

Sansa could sense her unease. “And...something about that bothers you?”

“All of it is terrifying. So many questions.”

Sansa stood and began changing her clothes and put on one of her dark dresses and turned her back to Arya who helped lace her up. “What’s your biggest fear?”