The Dragons of Winter

Chapter 20

Daenerys

Despite Daenerys' initial reluctance to trust Jorah Mormont, she felt like she could rely on the man completely after spending her time with him. Daenerys often found herself conversing with the bear, sometimes about Westeros and its people. After Jon's decision, however, the conversations would often turn to the matter of armies; where to get one and from who.

"The unsullied are an elite force, strong, extremely obedient and better trained than any other men in all the lands!" Jorah insisted one day as Daenerys sat beside him at her table, her arms crossed with her lips in a pout. Jon was sitting beside her, brooding about what Jorah and Dany conversed about.

"I will not buy slaves Jorah! What am I, a butcher?"

"You want your home back?" Jorah demanded.

Daenerys nodded, continuing to pout.

"You will get it if you have a powerful army behind you!"

"I will not get my home back; I will take it!" Daenerys snapped, "And how can I be sure my bought army is loyal to me?"

Jorah shook his head, "The unsullied are the most loyal force one can buy, princess. They follow their master without fail; if you were to tell them to jump off a cliff, they would do it!"

"They are slaves, Ser! They would follow me because they have been cruelly and vigorously trained from dawn until dusk, not because they support us!"

"I say we buy them." Jon said, causing Daenerys' violet eyes to widen.

"Pardon?" She responded, "Buying slaves is in your wishes?"

Jon shook his head, "No, but saving my family happens to be."

What Jon said was enough to make Daenerys sigh, I want to save them too, Jon. She was close to arguing with Jon some more, but Jorah stood from his seat and walked to the door before she could utter another word.

The Bear bowed, saying "We will converse on this matter some more on the morrow. My princess, my prince." He closed the door behind him, leaving the pair in the room.

They studied each other for a moment, letting a silence sink in as their eyes carefully watched the other. It reminded Dany of her first days with Jon, when everyone was safe and sound within Winterfell's protective walls. She and Jon always studied each other then, wanting so desperately to feel the warmth of the other in their arms.

Dany couldn't even recall how many moons had passed since she last lived within Winterfell's walls, or is it years? She longed for that feeling, the one where she felt safe and careless. Will I ever even see Winterfell again?

Tyrion

The Lannister camps were as soiled as a winding Flea bottom street, though the bodies were not of drunks or thieves, and the cramped mazes of buildings were replaced by crimson red tents, pitched into the blood-stained soil.

Yet this shit pile still bests sleeping in a sky cell, Tyrion mused as he traced his mind back to the biting cold winds and sickening heights of where he was locked up in the Eyrie.

I'm certain smashing my head on the rocks at the bottom of the mountains would seem painless when put up against whatever death Robert has planned for us- or at least Cersei and Jaime, Tyrion grimaced. The dwarf was unsure of whether to cry or laugh hysterically when the news concerning his family fleeing from the capitol reached his ears. Cry because of Tommen and Myrcella, so young and oh so sweet, being shunned from the world by a whisper from the hand; laugh because of his sister's explicit stupidity.

Naturally, Cersei had fled to Casterly rock, alongside Tommen, Myrcella and Joffrey before Tyrion had the chance to gaze upon her face, ruined by torn pride. He had seen Jaime's however, worry stricken, but still the proud face of a lion. His brother remained at the prized side of their shared father, whose tenuous pride flickered only in his green eyes, hiding. Tywin's ambition however, leaped in the air, free and as apparent as ever.

The fact that Jaime remained Tywin's favoured son didn't surprise Tyrion in any way; he knew that no matter what Tyrion's golden brother did, no matter how awful or down-grading, Tywin would always detest Tyrion that little bit more. In Tywin's eyes, it was the price Tyrion had to pay for his mother's death in the birthing room all those years ago, as well as being a dwarf.

Tyrion thought about that topic often; my does my father hate me so? And more frequently than not, it lead him to speculate if things would be different if he had either been born a golden, handsome lion like Jaime, yet still have killed his mother in the process, or alternately, been born a hideous dwarf but with his mother alive and well.

Each time, Tyrion would come to the same conclusion; had I been born a gallant, tall man, Tywin could perhaps see past the fact that I killed mother. Legacy means everything to him, and a clever, yet comely son would serve.

"My lord." A voice spoke from behind the half-man, bringing him out of his mind and back into the stinking camp.

The speaker was some squire or other-Jaime's squire is the most probable, since his last boy was shot with an arrow while I was away in my cell- Tyrion noted as he eyed the boy. "Lord Tywin calls for a meeting by his tent."

Tyrion thanked the lad before dismissing him and heading through and accumulation of soldiers and dingy tents to reach his father's War Council tent, pitched outside with a dozen guards faithfully standing before it. They nodded and let Tyrion through, silent but watchful. I know that in their heads they're mocking me, saying half-man and imp, Tyrion thought knowingly as he walked through the flap of the tent, soon pushing that thought to the back of his mind once Tyrion set his eyes upon his father's council.

Tyrion nodded to Jaime as Tyrion pulled out his chair and hopped onto it, all the while acknowledging who else was present round the table. The usual, I see, Tyrion noted as he glanced round at the familiar faces around the room. As expected, the room lacked Tywin Lannister's golden presence given that his father liked nothing more than to stride in, with as much power as possible entering the air as the others gazed upon him. Proud bastard.

As soon as Tyrion pictured it, Lord Tywin Lannister strode in, his Crimson cloak almost shining with his guards flanking him from behind, like dutiful dogs. Everyone rose, Tyrion included when his father sat into his chair, embellished with intricate carvings of lions roaring.

"You may sit." Tywin said, not as a curtesy but as a command. He eyed a piece of parchment, presumably a letter of some kind, stroking his beard while the others at in a mutual silence, knowing that it was Tywin's war council, and Tywin's war council alone.

He placed the parchment down, his eyes moving up to watch his council. What resumed after consisted of the discussion concerning Robert's declining sanity, his army crumbling and the fact that few remained truly loyal to him. Tyrion wanted to laugh, knowing that Tywin's army was dispersing into the wind just as Robert's was. "NO ONE WANTS TO FOLLOW YOU NOW BECAUSE YOUR CHILDREN FUCK EACHOTHER" was what Tyrion wished to holler into his dear father's ear. The imp had heard the whispers around the camp, people saying Cersei and Jaime were disgraces, and that Tywin was at fault for it.

Of course, no one brought that subject matter up for discussion. However, something far more interesting was;

"My Lord, I've been told reports concerning the Targaryens." At that, everyone went silent, nervously glancing at Tywin to receive a glimpse of his reaction.

"The Targaryens? Tell me, Lord Westerling how this has come to be, since last time you told me that Viserys had died. How are there two Targaryens?" Lord Tywin uttered, much to Lord Westerling's horror.

"Common folk around the Kingdoms have been speaking of Rhaegar Targaryen's secret child, through Lyanna Stark." Westerling offered, watching Tywin's expression turn from neutral to dismay.

Tyrion's expression mirrored Tywin's as the dwarf tried to solve the mystery of the secret Targaryen. How has a Targaryen lived under Robert's and Tywin's noses all of this time? He wondered, finding no answer in his mind. The Targaryen must be a bastard, he thought, his jaw dropping open when it hit him; bastard!

"Father; when we went to Winterfell, Lord Stark's supposed bastard was at the wall… but perhaps he wasn't. Perhaps the bastard was raised as a Snow, when in truth Targaryen blood flows through his veins!" Tyrion said, everyone's eyes widening.

"Continue." Tywin uttered with his hands held in front of his mouth, placed in a scowl.

"Lyanna must have birthed the babe in the Tower of Joy, and Eddard found her dying, with a Targaryen babe in her arms…" Tyrion spoke, "Lyanna must have asked him to protect the infant, for Robert would have without a living doubt slaughtered it."

The council remained silent, the shock of the truth holding their tongues, realisation possessing their faces. The dwarf was bewildered himself; perhaps Lyanna went with him willingly… causing the Rebellion and the deaths of her and Rhaegar's family with it. Love is dangerous…

"It seems that old Ned Stark is not as honourable as people say." Jaime said, his voice complacent as he broke the silence.

"Get out. All of you!" Tywin's words boomed around the tent like thunder, causing Ser Kevan to bow his head and lead the council outside. Tyrion began to follow the men shaking their heads in frustration, when Tywin spoke once more; "Jaime, stay- you too Tyrion." Tywin, clearly angry said before continuing, before his voice took a more explicitly dark tone, "We must discuss what we shall do with the Starks."

Catelyn

I must be strong, Lady Stark thought when he heard a knock at the door of her chambers. Perhaps today is when they finally tell me that Ned is dead, or Arya and Sansa, or all three. Perhaps now is when I will fall…

YOU MUST REMAIN STRONG FOR YOUR CHILDREN! Her mind screamed as her feet dragged themselves to the chamber door, as she turned the lock and braced herself for whatever news faced her on the other side of that door.

Yet all that Lady Catelyn saw when she swung the door open was the familiar face of Maester Luwin;

"Good morning." She told him, letting him in. "Any word from the South?"

To her horror, he nodded in response. Fearing the worst, Lady Stark fought her persistent tears and demanded to know what Luwin was talking about.

"I received this minutes ago, my Lady. Read it."

She frantically grabbed the piece of parchment from his outstretched hand, not sure of if she wanted to read it at all, yet certain she wanted to know what it contained. Her eyes dashed across the paper, tears falling from her eyes as she took in its words;

Arya, Sansa, Ned… they've escaped!

"Who sent this?" She demanded, her hand clasped on her mouth in elation and shock, her body shaking.

"I do not know, but I feel that the picture on the back may be of some help if you wish to know who sent this."

She flipped he paper, and gasped when she saw it;

A spider.

Arya

The pale orange sky shone in the backdrop of the great mass of houses and a stone bridge lying above the water that lead inside the maze. A city!

Arya's heart soared in a cloud of hope as she watched the ship near it. "Is it Pentos?" She spouted excitedly to the captain beside her at the front of the boat.

"No, my dear…" He responded, Arya filling with sorrow as soon as the words left his tongue. Jon is not here. Daenerys is not here. Safety is not here. The girl could feel anger rising within her, but she pushed it down, knowing that the captain wasn't at fault in anyway.

"Is it Braavos?" She asked again, feeling curios about the city that the ship's crew spoke so fondly about.

The captain chuckled, his white teeth shining as the ship neared the shore. "This is Volantis."

Volantis? Why are we here?

Griff

Jon Connington could not wait to leave Volantis. We've been here too long. He is not safe. Yet there were a few more things to be done (much to Jon's dismay), more people to deal with; Starks. The cursed message from the spider replayed in Griff's mind; keep the two wolves safe, upon my request. Connington had half the mind to board their ship, sail far away and leave the wolves stranded. They are the Usurper's dogs, a threat.

But Aegon had been so determined; "they're children!" He'd said, "no danger to you or me or anyone else!" The two had argued for hours, but for the first time, Aegon had won.

So now the dragon will share this ship with the wolves, Jon Connington muttered to himself as he watched the orange sunset sparkle in the water, while Aegon Targaryen in stared in anticipation at the small Braavosi boat nearing their own.

NOTES: PLEASE READ! (important)

Hello, it's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry, school has been such a burden recently, but as my Christmas break is starting, I'll try to establish a solid schedule for writing this.

Now, onto the chapter. It really isn't my best (sorry if it was dull) and I know that Tyrion's part was far too long while the others were far too short! As well as this, I know that most of my reviews concern the fact that Aegon may be in my story. So, to answer your questions, I included a very short Jon Connington POV here. I'll try to make Aegon as likeable as possible so you don't get too annoyed (I know many of you dislike him). He won't get in the way and be a brat or anything like that, I promise X

PLEASE REVIEW, AS IT HELPS TO KEEP ME MOTIVATED. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM IS WELCOME !