Chapter Text
SANSA
Her palm brushed against the rough stone wall as she made her way slowly down the spiralling stairs, leading ever deeper under the castle. The dungeons of Winterfell were a place that Sansa could not remember ever entering before. Neither her father nor her mother had ever wanted her or Arya to go there nor Bran or Rickon as they were too young.
The dungeons were darkly lit, and rather cold compared to the rest of the castle, but not so much that it would make anyone freeze to death. However, it was enough to be uncomfortable.
“Are you well your grace?” Ser Brienne asked as she hovered by her elbow, as they followed Ice’s figure trot on ahead of them, her nails scraping against the stone floor. “If it is too much for you, then we should head back.”
“I am fine, Ser Brienne.” Sansa tried to force a smile on her face, but she knew that it failed. “I must do this.”
“But in your condition…” The taller woman trailed off, her eyes looking unsure.
“I know.” Sansa cradled her belly with her hand she was not using to support her. She knew that she had to start to rest more as her belly and child grew, but she also had to make sure that her babe was safe from the assassin that had been sent to kill them. “But I have to do this, for my child.”
Brienne looked like she wanted to protest, but instead she nodded stiffly and mumbled under her breath in so low a tone that Sansa barely heard it, but she thought it was suspiciously similar to stubborn Starks.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and Ice looked at them, her gold eyes flickering over Sansa as if to make sure that she was indeed safe, before the she-wolf moved slowly forward, heading to the only occupied cell.
As they neared it, Sansa could hear quiet sobs.
How many times had she cried like that when she had been captive by the Lannisters? How many times had she cried like that when she had been alone in the Eyrie, finally allowed to grief the loss of her family? Or when Ramsay brutalized her so savagely?
A shudder rushed its way across her skin, and she could see the concerned look her knight sent her. Steeling her spine, Sansa took a deep breath, before she faced the woman who had tried to kill her and her unborn babe.
The woman was huddled in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest and her long brown hair hanging loose around her face, shielding her from curious eyes. One of her arms were covered in white cloth, hiding her wound that Ice had inflicted on her when she stopped her from murdering Sasna.
“What is your name?” Sansa asked quietly, but in the small space and with the bare stone, she might as well have shouted.
The woman looked up, her neck whipping her head up and her eyes were wide with surprised. “Your grace?” her voice shook as she clenched her fist around the fabric of her skirt. “What…what are you doing here?”
“It is not your place to question the queen.” Brienne said harshly, glowering at the woman.
“It is alright Ser Brienne.” Sansa said softly, wanting them all to remain calm and composed. “I have a few questions for you, that is why I have come.”
How would Cersei Lannister have reacted to a would-be assassin?
Sansa did not have to think about it for long before she knew the answer.
Torture, and then a painful death.
The woman stared at her; her eyes filled with fear. Was this the way Sansa had looked at people when she had been a hostage in the Red Keep? Or when she had been held captive by Ramsay Snow right here in her childhood home? “What is your name?” Sansa repeated, both her hands now on her growing belly.
The woman bit her lip and looked at the ground, and for a moment Sansa thought that she wouldn’t reply. “Bessy. My name is Bessy.”
“Where are you from Bessy?” Sansa wanted to ask who the man that had contacted her and held her children, but she remembered how lady Olenna and Margaery had pushed and pushed for information about Joffrey, and how terrible she had felt.
“Moose’s Rest. In the Sheephead hills.” Bessy answered sniffling.
“Under the command of house Hornwood.” Sansa nodded and felt Ice lean against her. Bessy flinched at the sight of the direwolf, and even though she was not fully grown, Ice was intimidating at the best of times. And now, she was staring the woman down, her lip twitching as she fought the urge to snarl at Sansa’s would-be killer. “Bessy, I know that you are afraid right now.”
Sansa drew another deep breath and watched as Bessy pulled in on herself. “Bessy, right now your children are in danger, and we need help in finding the man that is holding them.”
“He will kill them.” Bessy sobbed into her arms as she shook her head. “He told me he would. He said that he would kill them if I failed.”
“That is why we need to find him and the children.” Sansa insisted. “What does he look like? Where did you meet him?”
Shaking her head, Bessy sniffed and started to sob again. “No, no, no. He will kill them. He will.”
Grabbing one of the bars separating them, Sansa did her best to kneel down to the other woman’s eye level. “Bessy, you were ready to kill me to save you children.” Bessy sucked in a breath as her eyes flickered back to Sansa, fear filling them. “Your own queen, and the woman is who carrying the heir to the Iron.”
Bessy’s darted to Sansa’s belly before she met her eyes again. It seemed that for the first time they had been talking that the realization of what she had done had crossed her mind, and she let out a loud wail.
Sansa allowed her to cry and sob for a few moments before she spoke again. “Bessy, I have sent men out to search for them, but more information about him is needed.”
Bessy looked ready to start shaking her once more, but Sansa continued. “Bessy, this might be the only chance you have to save your children. If we can find him in time, before he learns that you have failed, our men might be able to rescue them.”
“Do you promise that they will be safe?” Bessy asked as she sniffed.
Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. A part of her wanted to lie, tell her yes. Yes, she promised that they would find the man and save Bessy’s children.
She could hear Littlefinger’s voice in her head. Telling her to lie, assure the woman that she would find her children.
However, as the words wanted to push themselves up her throat, it was like it had been closed off. The words refusing to come forth. “No, I cannot promise that.” Sansa watched the woman’s face fell and she looked ready to cry once more.
“But I can promise that our men will do everything in their power to save them. To make sure that they are taken care of.” Sansa prayed that this was enough for the woman to tell them where the man had found her and what he looked like.
Bran was powerful, but even he would have a hard time searching the entirety of the North for a man he did not know what he looked like, and where he was. Now, Bran could gaze into the past, but even only a few moons would be hard for him to pinpoint where and when Bessy had met the man.
Bran needed more information.
“He is from the south.” Bessy said with another sob as she wiped her tears from her face. “He has dark hair, and a hook nose.”
Sansa felt hope rise in her chest. “And what else?”
“He has three faint scars on his cheek.” Bessy said and Sansa felt a sliver of recognition fill her mind. No, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
Littlefinger had told her that he had been the man’s master, and now he was dead. “Was he about this tall?” Sansa asked as she rose to her feet and gestured with her hand of a hight slightly taller than her.
“Aye, he was your grace.”
“Was he wearing a sigil? Or richly made clothing?” Sansa felt her chest grow heavier as she continued to speak.
“No sigil your grace. But his clothing was fine, aye.”
“And where did he find you?”
“Near the Hornwood castle, your grace, as I was attending the market.” Bessy pulled her knees closer. “He grabbed my Pipa and told me that I had to follow, and if I did not do as I was told, then he could kill her and both of my sons, Hall and Donny.”
After getting all the detail, Sansa nodded and turned to leave but was stopped by Bessy. “Your grace, what will happen to me?” her voice shook once more with fear and Sansa was certain that she knew what her fate was.
Turning back again, Sansa looked at the other woman. “You tried to kill me, and my babe. You know what will happen.”
Bessy drew in a breath as she nodded. “And my children?”
“We will do what we can to save them, and if they are alive then they will be taken care of and treated well.”
Bessy sobbed once more as she murmured her thanks as Sansa walked out of the dungeons of Winterfell and back up the stairs.
She quickly headed to the Godswood, where she knew her brother was warging into the ravens of the North, searching blindly for the man Bessy had spoken about.
Sansa spotted her little brother in his chair, under the Weirwood tree, his eyes closed and his face free of any emotion. His entre body was unnerving still and it was only his auburn hair that moved as the gentle breeze moved it around.
“Perhaps we should wait inside your grace.” Brienne said as she stood at her back, nodding at Podrick who was standing by Bran’s chair.
“No, the outside will do me good, and Bran needs to know what we have learn the moment he comes back.” She sat down at the fallen treen where her father had always sat and took a deep breath of the fresh air as Ice sat down at her feet, laying her furry head in her lap.
The emotions of the meeting with Bessy swirled around in her heart, and for a moment she still felt like that little girl, held hostage in King’s Landing. Where her every moment drawing breath could have been her last.
“Are you sure you are alright Sansa?” Brienne asked gently, leaning closer and placing a hand on her shoulder. She felt a little better at having her friend calling her by her name. It made her feel a little more real somehow.
“No,” She croaked out with a tight smile. “I feel terrible, but I must do this. I can rest later.”
Taking another deep breath, Sansa waited for her brother to awaken from his warging, so that she might tell him of what she had learned.
JAIME
He held on fast to the edge of the rowboat with his left hand, as the Red Keep loomed over them, like a towering giant, painted black in the dark of the night.
It was strange to be back here once again, only this time Jaime was sneaking back in, instead of riding out of the front gates alongside lords and servants under the banners of his house, to bring the Riverlords under Lannister rule.
Jaime could almost hear his father curse at him from beyond the grave. His green and gold eyes flashing with fury as his older son sat now in the same boat as Arya Stark and Jon Targaryen’s faithful men, ready to fell Tywin Lannister’s work in one fell swoop.
Shaking his head, Jaime pushed away the thoughts of his father’s enraged face. What mattered now, was ensuring Tommen’s safety and defeating the Dead.
Beside him, Lady Arya stared up at the castle with yet another unreadable look on her face. The pale light of the moon made her skin look even paler than before, and her dark hair shine as it was pulled in a tight knot behind her head.
Lady Arya buried her hand in her direwolf’s fur as it lay at their feet, its amber eyes staring up at the castle right along with her mistress, not even bothering to glance at Jaime, deeming him along with everyone else in the boat no threat to either one of them.
Yet despite the shiver that ran down his spine when he looked at the creature, Jaime felt better knowing that it was about to be on his side if they ran into trouble.
In the battle of the Whispering Wood, he had seen what Robb Stark’s direwolf had done when he had gone into battle alongside the boy. And that wolf had been younger and smaller than the she-wolf that now lay at lady Arya’s feet.
One of the knights rowing the boat forward gave a low grunt as if he were trying not to be heard, yet Jaime was sure that with the siege outside of the city gates, there was little need to worry about them being detected.
Cersei’s eyes would be fixed on the Golden Company.
“I don’t understand.” Tormund, the large wildling man that seemed to be always either drinking or telling tall tales of himself, spoke up as he too stared up at the towers of the Red Keep. “Why do you southerners always build everything so huge. Your Wall, your castles, hells even your towns are huge.”
“It is better to defend against armies when your walls are tall.” Jaime said, clenching and then unclenching his fist.
“Tell that to Jon’s dragons.” The wildling laughed before lord Varys shushed him before Jaime was about to tell him that most lords and kings didn’t spend their days worrying about dragons coming to attack their lands.
“Not so loud my lord.” Tormund snorted at the title as lord Varys continued. “Sound carries over water. There might be agents of lady Cersei posted not too far away.”
“I thought that it was your task to make sure that my dear sister would not see us coming?”
Lord Varys sent him an annoyed look from underneath his hood. “Even I cannot know everything, Ser Jaime.”
Jaime said nothing, only sending the man a smirk as they continued to near the castle, as two more rowboats followed them, all filled with Targaryen men, ready to hurl themselves into the mouth of the lioness that awaited them within for their king.
They travelled in silence until reaching the rocky shore at the base of the castle, and they all jumped out of the boat and helped to drag it onto the shore.
After securing the boats, lord Varys led them into a dark alcove where a young boy was waiting for them. The boy grinned happily as Varys handed him a few coins. He said nothing as he handed Varys a scroll before disappearing into the dark.
“Our way is clear.” The spider whispered and gestured for them to follow him. As they walked into tunnels, they lit torches that casts dancing shadows everywhere. “But we should hurry.”
Making their way into the tunnels, Jaime followed lady Arya and her wolf, staring at Varys’ hooded head. “How do you know that Cersei’s pet doesn’t know that we are here?” Jaime felt a sense of distaste when he spoke about Qyburn. Even if the man had saved him from infection and healed him at Harrenhall, there was something about him that did not sit right with Jaime.
The former maester had tried too hard to integrate himself with Jaime, and then Cersei for his liking. The former heir to Casterly Rock had had enough of experience to know when someone was trying to suck up to him to gain favour to recognize it when he saw it.
Varys threw a slight smile towards him. “Qyburn might have thought that he had inherited my little birds when I left the city, but he was never allowed to know anything that I did not want him to.”
“And how do you know that your little birds have not sold you out to my beloved sister?” The snide tone in his voice as they turned left and started to climb up a narrow staircase.
“I would be terrible at my trade if I did not keep my informants in line, would I not?”
Ser Jaime said nothing, only stared at the back of the man’s head.
“Does he know of any of the tunnels?” Lady Arya asked then, sending Varys a curious look.
“Of course, my lady.” The man’s boots made only the slightest of sounds as they touched the stone, likely most people would have completely missed the man if he wanted to remain unseen. “I had to make sure he used a few of my birds and feed him enough information to keep him satisfied.”
The young lady nodded slightly before going silent again.
Then they entered a familiar looking cellar.
How often had Robert dragged him and some whore down here, so that he might gloat that it had been he who had taken down the dynasty that had ridden such beasts as these?
A familiar looking skull stared at them, its empty eyes glaring at them, with its terrible mouth large enough to easily eat a full-grown man.
The skull of this creature was smaller than that of the king’s mount, yet Jaime had no illusions that it had been any less ferocious than that of his living king. Not with how the empty eyes of the long dead Targaryen dragon tried to will them away.
“It is smaller than Rhaegal.” Lady Arya said as her wolf sniffed at the black bone, before shaking her head and moving away from it.
“It is Seasmoke, the dragon of Laenor Velaryon and then later Addam of Hull.” Jaime said, staring up, into the creature’s empty eyes.
“How do you know?” Lady Arya looked at him, and Jaime was sure that he could see a curious glint in her eyes.
Jaime did not take his eyes of the skull, feeling the memories of hours spent with Rhaegar and the Mad King in the great hall, as they talked endlessly about the dragons of long dead Targaryens.
“I spent hours guarding the Mad king, as he walked long the great hall, making prince Viserys recite their names. I will not forget it as long as I live.”
Lord Varys turned to look at them. “We must go.”
Following the man through the cellar, Tormund spoke up. “How many are there?”
“Nineteen.” Jaime answered as they passed one that was distinctively different from the king’s dragons. While large, it was smaller and narrower around the snout and wide around the forehead than the one belonging to Seasmoke and the two dragons that king Jon commanded.
“Which one is that?” Lady Arya asked as they walked through the dark.
“Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.”
“And those two?” Lady Arya asked when the saw two skulls, laying side by side in the dark. Both were enormous, and large enough to swallow a horse.
“Vermithor and Meraxes.” Jaime felt a sense of amusement flood over him as the girl’s usually blank expression turned more and more excited.
“Which one is Vhagar?”
“Just up ahead.” He found himself helpless to restrain the smile on his face. Myrcella had been just as excited when he had sneaked her down and shown her the skulls. And like lady Arya, she too had wanted to see the mount of Queen Visenya.
They passed more skulls, and in the darkness, Jaime could see Syrax, who had been brought from the Dragonpit along with Dreamfyre, and Meleys the Red Queen who had been brought from Rook’s Rest and Arrax who had washed up beneath Storm’s End.
When they walked by the skull of Vhagar, lady Arya smiled as her wolf sniffed even more at the bones that her mistress seemed so interested in. Yet despite her interest in the skulls of the long dead dragons, she did not slow her walk.
Then another one loomed over them, and Jaime knew that this one did not need him to name it.
Balerion’s black skull seemed to be made of darkness and shadows, with his teeth that were as long as swords and a mouth large enough for a mammoth to stand in his mouth.
The men gasped and whispered amongst themselves as they walked underneath the Dread’s dead gaze.
“Will Jon’s dragons be that large?” Tormund the Wildling asked, his eyes wide with awe.
“Dragons do not stop growing until they die.” Jaime nodded as he answered the other man.
How long until the Emerald Fury would be the size of the Dread?
And why were the dragons that the king commanded growing so quickly? Both were younger than dragons like Arrax and Vermax and yet they eclipsed the dragons of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon in size.
Jaime shook the thought out of his head, it was a question better left for the likes of Tyrion and the king. Men of learning would have a much better grasp on the nature of dragons than the one-handed knight could ever hope to.
The Spider led them down a path between Balerion and another dragon with the same skull shape as Caraxes, Ghiscar. That was what Rhaegar had called him. One of the five dragons that Aenar Targaryen had brought with him to his exile in the West.
Lord Varys pushed a stone in the wall and then a part of it moved, stone scraping on stone as Jaime fought a winch, hoping that no one could hear it over the shouts of the men fighting the Golden Company.
Making their way into the corridor, lady Arya turned to look at Tormund and then at Varys. “Go on. We shall send a messenger when we are ready.”
The spymaster nodded and led Tormund more than half of the men away into the darkness before lady Arya turned to Jaime. “You know Maegor’s Holdfast better than I do, lead the way.”
Taking a deep breath, they moved quietly through the halls and as he looked out of one of the windows looking over the city, he could see the banners of his house flying over every wall and tower of the city that Aegon the Conqueror and his son Maegor had built. Cersei had clearly long since let go of the pretence that anyone with the name Baratheon was in power in the capital.
Even in the half darkness, Jaime could easily recognize where he was moving towards the royal apartments. Just outside of the doors leading to where the king and his family had stayed since Maegor the Cruel, Jaime could see four guards stand, each one wearing the crimson of house Lannister.
Lady Arya didn’t even look at him before silently moving through the shadows, followed by her direwolf and two Targaryen guards. The young woman grabbed one of the guards and as quickly as a snake she dispatched the first one and her wolf the second, one of the Targaryen men managed to kill the third but the fourth man fumbled and was hit in the abdomen by the crimson clad man’s elbow, knocking the wind out of him.
The sound of the steel armour hitting stone rang in Jaime’s ears and he was certain that the entire castle had been notified by the sound.
Fear rushed through his veins, and he pushed away from the wall and quickly ran forward. He burst into the main chamber of the apartments, where two serving maids were huddled together, both of them staring at him with their eyes wide in fear. “Where is she?” Jaime demanded loudly. “Where is Cersei?”
“In the king’s apartments.” The younger one said in a shaky voice, causing Jaime to rush away.
Running through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Jaime quickly left lady Arya and the Targaryen men behind in his desperate dash to reach his sister and their son. When he reached the king’s apartments, he burst through the doors, seeing Cersei standing by the tall window overlooking the King’s gate, where the bulk of the Golden company was making camp.
His heart dropped at the sight of her, as she turned to look at him, her green eyes wild and her cheeks spotted red. “Jaime?” There was hesitation in her voice as she stared at him like she couldn’t believe her own eyes. “What are-.”
“Where is Tommen?” Jaime interrupted her, his voice hard as he remembered their last meeting. The disgust in her eyes as she had looked at his stump, where his sword hand had been.
Cersei stared at him as if not believing that he was standing right there in front of her, until fury appeared on her face. “TRAITOR.” Her voice cut at his ears, as he could see the madness blaze like wildfire in her eyes. “You have betrayed me. TRAITOR. TRAITOR.”
“Cersei where is Tommen?” Jaime yelled at the top of his lungs, taking a step closer to her.
“YOU BETRAYED ME.” Cersei screamed, her hands clenching as she stared at him, her face filled with hurt and pain. “YOU ARE WITH HIM, HER SON. YOU ARE AGAINST ME, TRYING TO TAKE MY CROWN.”
Cersei grabbed a cup from one of the tables and hurled it towards him, causing him to duck as she continued to shout. “TRAITOR, TRAITOR. I WILL NOT ALLOW IT, I AM YOUR QUEEN, YOU WILL OBEY ME.”
He heard the cup crash against the pale red stone walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. “I am doing what is best for our house, for Tommen.”
This time, Cersei grabbed a flagon and hurled it towards him and again Jaime was forced to duck. “I am the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The throne belongs to me, not the wolf girl’s pup. It is mine.”
“It’s over Cersei.” Jaime insisted desperately. “Father is dead, the throne is lost to you. King Jon-.”
“HE IS NO KING.” Cersei jumped forth and slapped him, her nails biting into his cheek and causing blood to flow down his skin.
“He is.” Jaime moved closer to her, only to have her move away, her eyes wide with fear and fury. “He has four of the Seven Kingdoms and dragons on his side, there is no possible way for you to win against him. King Jon has promised to allow Tommen to become the lord of Casterly Rock. To con-.”
“No.” Cersei shook her head, like she always did when she didn’t want to listen to reason. “Tommen is the king, the true king, not the wolf girl’s bastard. The throne is ours, Jaime. It is ours. It belongs to us, house Lannister. It is our fathers wish for us to have it. I have sacrificed everything for it.”
Her nostril’s flared as she stared him down, disgust clear in her eyes as she glanced from his face to his stump to his face again. “You are weak, Jaime. You have always been weak. Father might not have seen it but I do.”
Jaime felt a surge of rage burn in his veins and his left hand shot out and grabbed at Cersei’s pale throat and he pushed her against the wall, his hand wrapped around her windpipe, barely allowing her to breath.
“I sacrificed everything for you.” Jaime hissed as watched Cersei turn red in the face as she gasped for air. “I wanted to become the next lord of Casterly Rock, I wanted a wife and children, but I threw it all away for you. I accepted the white cloak for you.”
Grief tore at his throat as he spoke, and tears burned in his eyes. Cersei’s lips turned darker. “Everything I did, I did for you. I gave up my dreams for you, everything I ever wanted, for you.”
Jaime watched as her lips turned black and the whites of her eyes red, until a calm voice carried through his haze of fury. “Ser Jaime, let her go.” He looked over his shoulder to see lady Arya leaning against the doorway, with her direwolf standing beside her, as his heart was beating out of his chest as the fury slowly faded away and he loosened the grip on Cersei’s throat. “While I wouldn’t mind her being killed, Jon ordered her to be taken alive if at all possible.”
Letting Cersei go, Jaime watched as she fell to her knees, coughing and grasping at her throat as lady Arya gestured for two guards to come and move his sister away. “Tommen has been found and is with Tormund. He is probably telling him some wild tale.”
Jaime looked at her for a moment before turning his eyes back to where Cersei had fallen to her knees and was now being hauled off to the only gods knew where. “Is he safe?” Jaime asked, his voice faint.
“Aye, we are keeping him safe.” Lady Arya watched as the guards pulled Cersei away, still coughing. Jaime turned to face her and her wolf slowly as they were left alone in the chamber. “You should have thrown her out of the window if you wanted to kill her. That way you could have claimed that she jumped before you could stop her.”
Jaime frowned at her, as the girl looked out the window where a raven had quietly landed on the windowsill and was watching them with its beady black eyes. Lady Arya walked over to where the raven was resting and when she closed the distance, she offered her arm to the large bird.
The raven looked at her for a moment before hopping on her forearm, letting out caws and ruffling his feathers. “Sers take lady Cersei to the tower cells and keep her there. I want her under close guard, and no one will have access to her and make sure that she cannot hurt herself.”
The knights nodded and hauled Cersei out of the chambers, his sister still dazed from Jaime’s assault. “Ser Jaime, why don’t you take a few men and head to the white sword tower and secure it.”
Jaime felt the burning of where Cersei had clawed at his face as he nodded faintly and headed out of the royal apartments, his thoughts moving sluggishly through his mind.
As he left, he was certain that he could hear lady Arya whisper to the raven who was still staring at him.