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The War of Ice and Fire

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My take on how the story might play out after the events of Game of Thrones season 6. Written before season 7 aired. Mostly based on the TV show, but with some ideas taken from the books instead (e.g. Ser Barristan is still alive in this story. I know he died in the TV show, but he's still alive in the books… as of 'A Dance with Dragons', anyway. So I decided to go with that. Also, Euron Greyjoy has the dragon horn, there were three Kingsguard at the Tower of Joy, and all the Stark children can warg (though Bran is of course the most powerful warg and the only one who's actually been trained to use that ability.))

Disclaimer, I do not own Game of Thrones (obviously, or I wouldn't be writing fan fiction about it.)

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Chapter 1: The Small Council

Jaime I

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The Small Council seemed to have been reduced to just the three of them, Jaime thought, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the table as he listened to Qyburn, the chainless maester, who seemed to have taken Varys' place as Master of Whisperers with great ease.

Aside from Jaime and Qyburn, the only other person at the table was Cersei, who had recently had herself crowned as the Queen of Westeros. Anyone who might have objected to that only had to take one look at her intimidating giant of a guard, the one that used to be Gregor Clegane, to fall silent again. That man… or whatever he was now, was currently stationed behind Cersei's chair, his back to the wall. Jaime wasn't entirely sure where the rest of Cersei's Queensguard were, or even if she still actually had seven of them, or if she'd had the rest killed off or dismissed. Clegane seemed to be the only one she kept with her at all times these days. Well, Clegane and the little grey rat, Qyburn.

But the state of Cersei's Queensguard wasn't really Jaime's concern right now. No, he was more worried about what she'd recently done to the Sept of Baelor.

Destroying the Sept with Wildfire… the last time a monarch had planned to use wildfire in that manner, Jaime had killed him. But this was Cersei, not Aerys. And Cersei… well, she hadn't destroyed the entire city, he told himself, but what she had done still sickened him.

And it had resulted in the death of their son, Tommen, a sweet and innocent boy who had thrown himself from the Red Keep in despair, after realising that his wife was dead.

Jaime had confronted Cersei about that.

"How was I to know that he'd do something like that?" she'd said, genuine tears in her eyes and her voice catching in her throat. "He was our baby boy, Jaime, our only remaining child. I just wanted to protect him. I just wanted to keep him safe from that harlot and those fanatics." Her voice hardened as rage filled her eyes. "What mother wouldn't do the same? They all had their claws in him. My child. They all wanted to use him for their own purposes. Pushing and pulling and twisting him to be what they wanted. I just wanted to get him back. I just wanted to keep him safe from them. I never imagined he would take that Tyrell girl's death so badly. How could I have known?"

Her grief was genuine, that much Jaime was certain of. So, for the time being, he hadn't told her just how disgusted and horrified he'd been by her actions… but neither had he stepped forward to embrace her, as he would have done in the past. Instead, he left her alone with her grief, sobbing on the floor of her chambers.

And Jaime was left alone with his own grief. He'd never been a father to Tommen, but still, the boy had been his son. And although Jaime couldn't exactly say he was proud of the boy, he could say that he wouldn't have felt ashamed of protecting him, which seemed to put Tommen a step above most of the other kings Jaime had seen in his time.

Of course, Tommen had dismissed Jaime from the Kingsguard, so protecting him was no longer his job anyway, even if the boy had still been alive.

Jaime clenched his left hand into a fist. He looked at Cersei, with her short golden hair, green eyes and elegant demeanour. At least he could say that destroying the Sept with wildfire didn't seem to excite her the way that burning people alive had excited Aerys. Or, at least, he hoped it hadn't… but if it had, she wasn't still excited about it by the time Jaime had returned to the Red Keep.

Jaime wondered what he would have done if he had been there when she'd given the order. Could he have stopped her, as he'd once stopped Aerys? The point was moot, since he hadn't been there, but what if she decided to do it again? Aerys had set up caches of wildfire all over the city, and Jaime had told both of his siblings about it. Tyrion had used that knowledge to help them win the battle of Blackwater Bay. Cersei had used that knowledge to destroy the sept when it was filled with people.

If she decided to do it again, blow up another of Aerys' secret caches of wildfire… what would he do?

Did he have it in him to kill his own sister and lover? The mother of his children? Is that what it would come down to, in the end?

He didn't, as of yet, have an answer.

He turned his attention to what Qyburn was saying. Something about the North.

"Well," the chainless maester said, "if you recall, we had a report that Jon Snow led the Night's Watch in the defence of the Wall when an army of wildlings attacked in force, and his men were so impressed with his command skills that they named him Lord Commander, when the time to vote came."

"Yes," Cersei said dismissively, "we know all about that. They took leave of their senses and ignored our suggestion to appoint Lord Janos Slynt, and instead chose a teenage bastard boy." She took a sip of wine. "But at the end of the day, the Night's Watch is just a band of murderers, thieves and rapers sentenced to live at the far north of the realm, far out of our way, so what does it matter who they choose to lead them? Did you have a point?"

"I did, Your Grace," Qyburn continued. "The point is that we have recently discovered that after these events, it seems that Lord Commander Snow somehow managed to make the same wildlings that attacked the Wall into his allies. They now fight for him, and are loyal to him. The Night's Watch and the wildlings together."

Well that didn't sound right. "The Night's Watch are meant to fight the wildlings," Jaime said. "What are they supposed to be protecting the realm from otherwise? Or are they just going to sit up at the Wall together comparing stories on frostbite and fur capes?"

Qyburn looked at the piece of paper in front of him, suddenly seeming uncertain. "Well, they… the report states… that they are allied against a far greater threat… the White Walkers."

Cersei snorted and almost choked on her wine, before putting the glass down. She had one hand on her chest, above her breasts. Her coughing changed into laughter, and Jaime couldn't help but smile. "So they're telling each other stories about imaginary monsters then," he said.

Qyburn shrugged. "I suppose so." He looked to Cersei. "Your Grace, shall I continue?"

Cersei waved a hand. "Please do. Let us hear all about the imaginary troubles of the brave men at the Wall at the end of the world."

"Actually, Your Grace, Jon Snow is no longer at the Wall."

"He deserted then?"

"Well… it seems that some of the men of the Night's Watch disapproved of his allying with wildlings, and letting them move south of the Wall–"

"He let the wildlings past the Wall?" Jaime asked.

"Yes, thousands of them." Qyburn confirmed.

"Well, I imagine they're giving the Northerners a great deal of trouble, now that there's nothing to stop those savages raiding their villages," Cersei said, picking up her wine glass again. "Do the Northern lords know who's responsible for letting the wildlings through? Perhaps they'll kill the bastard for us and someone more suitable will be named Lord Commander next time."

"He already has been killed, Your Grace," Qyburn said.

"Ah, excellent," Cersei replied. "Always good to hear that another of the Stark brood has been eliminated, though that little bitch Sansa is still alive, last we heard, isn't she?"

"Yes, Your Grace. She is."

"Damn." Cersei's wine glass was empty, so she refilled it from the pitcher on the table in front of her. She seemed to be drinking a lot more than she used to, Jaime noticed. "Who killed off her bastard brother in the end? Do we know?"

"It was his own men, Your Grace. The ones who took exception to his alliance with the wildlings. They apparently set up an ambush and stabbed him to death."

"Hmm," Cersei responded, as though that information were mildly interesting, but not of great importance. She took another sip of wine.

"And then he came back to life and hanged those men for treason," Qyburn continued.

Cersei paused with the wine glass halfway to her lips.

"I'm sorry… He did what?" Jaime said, wondering if he had misheard.

"He was dead, for a period of several hours. He died from multiple knife wounds to the chest and was cold to the touch. And then he came back to life and hanged his own murderers for treason," Qyburn told them.

Cersei blinked at him.

"Well, I'm bloody glad that Aerys didn't do that when I stabbed him." Jaime said, wondering whether this 'resurrection' story or the tales of 'white walkers' was the more ridiculous. Though he supposed that, in the end, it didn't really matter. Both tales were clearly absurd. "What in Seven Hells are they drinking up there at the Wall?"

"There is more," Qyburn said.

"By all means, do tell us what happened next," Cersei said, putting the wine glass down and leaning back in her seat, giving Qyburn her undivided attention.

"After that, it seems his half-sister Sansa showed up at the Wall, and then together they built up an army consisting of wildlings and a small number of Northern houses –"

"Sansa?" Cersei spat, leaning forward in her seat. "So, the little bitch is at the Wall now, is she?"

"Well… she was, Your Grace," Qyburn said. "But then she and her brother took their army to attack Lord Bolton at Winterfell, and with some timely support from the Knights of the Vale, under the command of Lord Baelish –"

"Baelish?"

"Yes, it seems he's openly declared himself and the Vale as being in support of the Starks, Your Grace."

"That slimy little two-faced prick."

"Yes, Your Grace. In any case, there was a battle, and the Stark forces prevailed. Ramsay Bolton, who became our new Warden of the North after his father was poisoned by his enemies, tried to retreat back to Winterfell, but unfortunately…" he trailed off.

Jaime and Cersei waited.

"What?" Cersei demanded when Qyburn didn't immediately continue.

Qyburn looked up and met the queen's gaze.

"Well, according to several eye witnesses, so this is not something we can disregard," Qyburn said, "Jon Snow now has giants fighting for him."

There was a pause.

"By 'giants', I assume you mean big men like Gregor Clegane?" Jaime clarified, looking at the huge, silent guard still standing behind Cersei's chair.

Qyburn looked at Jaime. "No, the reports say that when Lord Ramsay Bolton retreated to Winterfell and sealed the gates, he hoped to defeat the enemy because they did not have the men to mount a siege. But just moments later… well, a giant fighting for Jon Snow succeeded in bursting through the gates. This giant was said to have been several times the size of a human man, and strong enough to rip apart the gates with his bare hands. And he had so many arrows in him that he resembled a pin cushion. Yet he was still moving and fighting. And once he'd broken through the gates, the rest of Jon Snow's army followed."

Qyburn glanced at his notes again. "Lord Ramsay did manage to kill the giant in the end, by shooting it directly in the eye, but by then, Jon Snow's army was already pouring through the gates. Ramsay Bolton bravely entered into single combat with Jon Snow in a last attempt to win the battle, but was defeated. House Bolton has been completely destroyed, and the North is once again united, with the wildlings, the Night's Watch and all the remaining Northern houses all allied together."

"Surely someone has a problem with wildlings south of the Wall raiding their villages?" Jaime asked. "I can't see the Northern houses being happy about that. Using the wildlings to increase the size of their army in battle might make sense in the short term, but actually living with them on their land?"

"Well," Qyburn said, "from what we've heard, the wildlings are no longer raiding the Northern villages at all but living on land granted to them by Jon Snow… whom the Northern houses have all named as their new King."

"King?" Cersei said, outraged.

"King in the North, Your Grace. And he has the unanimous support, as I said, of all of the North, and the Vale."

Why was it that as soon as one king was dealt with, another popped up to take his place? Jaime sighed. "I don't suppose there's any good news?" he asked.

Qyburn hesitated.

"Oh, out with it," Cersei commanded. "Just tell us and get it over with."

"Well," Qyburn said, "this doesn't pertain to the North, Your Grace, but it's still ill news."

"What?" Cersei demanded.

"You recall the news we had about Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons?"

"The girl had three baby dragons and some Unsullied and set herself up as the Queen of Meereen. What of it?"

"Well, the dragons are no longer babies. The Targaryen girl has actually taken to riding one of them, just as her ancestors did. She used all three of them to destroy the combined efforts of the Good Masters of Slaver's Bay to oust her from power –"

"We were helping to fund their efforts, weren't we?"

"Er… well, we considered it, Your Grace. Only if you remember, you decided in the end that our finances would be better spent building your new warships –"

"Ah, yes, of course. And how is that going? Are the ships ready yet?"

"Almost, Your Grace. Although as we're speaking of funds, you should know that the Iron Bank is still demanding repayment of the money the Crown owes them –"

"They just don't give up, do they? I've told them before; they will have their repayments begin again once the throne is secure. Right now, we need the money more than they do."

"The Iron Bank does not see things that way, Your Grace. They have called in every loan given to everyone under your domain, and are refusing further loans to all who ask. It's creating some problems for both lords and merchants in Westeros. A number of the merchants have already left to move overseas –"

"I'm not interested in the troubles of merchants or lesser lords. We need the money to fund our wars. And with the North in open rebellion again, we shall have to march or sail north and deal with them, sooner rather than later."

Jaime had to intervene then. "Sister, if you don't mind me saying so, that is a terrible idea."

Cersei looked at him. "Terrible? In what way?"

"Don't you remember the lessons Father taught us? A southern army cannot conquer the North, they never have. Not during the Andal invasion, not even during the dragon Conquest. The North has never been taken by a southern army. The only way to defeat them is to wait for their army to march south and meet us on our own ground. Then they can be defeated."

Cersei considered for a moment. "You're right, brother." She smiled at him. Then she reached for more wine. "Of course I remember the lessons Father taught us. But what if Jon Snow doesn't march his army south? I cannot simply allow him to keep half my kingdom from me."

"With respect, Your Grace, you do have bigger problems," Qyburn said. "And in any case, the Citadel recently sent white ravens to announce the start of winter. I'm no military strategist, but trying to defeat the Northern army on their own ground during winter… it would seem to be folly, even with my lack of experience in such matters."

"Yes, yes, I've already agreed. But the point is that we still need to do something about it. I cannot allow the North to declare independence and simply do nothing."

"They're unlikely to march anywhere now that winter has set in," Jaime said. "I say we let them be until spring. If they do decide to march south, we can deal with them then." Cersei looked like she was going to interrupt, but Jaime turned to Qyburn, and continued before she could. "You said that we have bigger problems. Do you just mean the Iron Bank, or is there something else? I imagine the remaining Tyrells are rather angry right now. Does our intelligence suggest they're marshalling their forces against us?" He glanced at Cersei, but she was examining her wine goblet.

Qyburn looked between them, before settling his gaze on his notes again. He shuffled the papers around a bit, then cleared his throat. "Yes, as I was saying, Daenerys Targaryen. She has three dragons, thousands of Unsullied, and has recently defeated the Masters' attempts to oust her from power. She took possession of all their ships, the ones she did not destroy, at least, and has also acquired one hundred thousand Dothraki to add to her army."

"But they're still in Essos, are they not? As long as they stay there, I'd still say that the North is the bigger problem," Cersei insisted. She bared her teeth. "And that little bitch Sansa still needs to pay for what she did to Joffrey."

"Daenerys Targaryen does have the fleet that Good Masters of Slaver's Bay brought to Meereen," Qyburn reminded them. "It may well be enough for her to bring her army across the ocean to Westeros. And if she does…" he trailed off again.

"We must make sure our own fleet is ready to meet her if she does," Jaime said. "Preferably whilst they're still at sea. One hundred thousand Dothraki on ships aren't too much of a threat, but once they make landfall and start riding around the country, raiding, raping and killing, that's an entirely different matter."

"Funny that," a stranger's voice interrupted. "I was thinking just about the same thing."

Everyone turned to face the door to the Small Council chambers, stunned by the interruption.

Jaime got to his feet and placed his left hand on the pommel of his sword. He was still nowhere near as skilled at swordplay as he had been when he still had his right hand, but he could at least hold his own against most men in a straight fight, which was far more than he could have said a few months ago.

He regarded the strange man warily, as the intruder strode confidently into the room. He had pale skin and brown hair and beard, scruffy, salt stained clothes and a breastplate bearing the arms of House Greyjoy, a kraken. He also had an eyepatch over his left eye.

How had an Iron Islands pirate managed to get past the guards?

"Who are you?" Cersei demanded. "How did you get in here?"

The intruder walked forward as though to sit and join them at the small council meeting. "You need to invest in more effective guards, I'm afraid. Don't worry, I killed off the ones I found outside, so there's a room for a few new, better ones, if you can find them." Jaime drew his sword and stepped forward to intercept him.

The intruder smirked, but didn't come any closer. "The one-handed Kingslayer. You any good with that other hand? Or are you just posturing in the hopes that I'll back down faced with such a fearsome reputation," he said mockingly.

"Try me and find out," Jaime said. "Are you sure you can see well enough with that one eye?"

The intruder removed his eye patch, revealing a second, perfectly good eye. So why was he wearing an eyepatch? Jaime wondered.

The intruder looked past Jaime to Cersei. "Euron Greyjoy, Your Grace," he said, with a slight, mocking bow. "King of the Iron Islands. Here to suggest an alliance between our two Great Houses. From what I've heard, whilst standing outside listening to your troubles being listed by this drab grey mouse here," he indicated Qyburn with a wave of his hand, "you could surely use the help. And I could surely use the ships and men you could add to my cause."

"Your cause?" Cersei sputtered, rising to her feet. "Why should I wish to ally myself with a filthy pirate and a pretender?"

"Because it sounds like you have enough enemies already. And I think if we work together, we can bring down the little Targaryen girl's army before they reach the shores of Westeros." He sauntered past Jaime then, and sprawled carelessly in the chair at the opposite end of the table from Cersei.

"Personally," Euron continued, "I like to be the one doing the plundering, and if the Dothraki manage to get here, there'll be a lot less plundering for the rest of us." He paused. "Actually, I had figured on joining the Dragon Queen myself and offering her my ships and my…uhm… my hand in marriage, so that we could come over to the Seven Kingdoms and crush the lot of you. Unfortunately, my treacherous niece and nephew have gone and screwed up those plans." He scowled. "They stole most of the Iron Fleet and sailed off to Slaver's Bay themselves, with a few other Ironborn that didn't like the idea of my rule. They'll have joined their fleet to the Targaryen girl's now, and that means the Dragon Queen will most definitely have enough ships to bring her army over. So, the way I figure, if the two of us combine our forces and meet them while they're still at sea, we can crush the Targaryen and my niece and nephew out there. What do you say?"

Cersei looked conflicted.

"What about the girl's dragons?" Jaime asked.

Euron Greyjoy smiled, as though this was exactly the question he wanted them to ask. "Funny you should ask that," he said. "You ever heard of a dragon horn?"

Jaime exchanged a confused look with Cersei.

"I have," Qyburn said. "Briefly, anyway, it's supposedly a large magical horn that can be used to control dragons, but likely either a myth, or else lost with Valyria centuries ago."

Euron nodded. "The thing is, I've spent the last several years sailing around the known world, and I've picked up a few things in my travels. It just so happens that one of those things is a dragon horn. A real one. And I know the secret of how to use it. The Dragon Queen won't expect that, so during the battle between our fleets, she'll probably send out her dragons to crush us. And that's when I'll bind them to my will and have them help us destroy her fleet instead. And before you think it, no, I won't tell you how it works, and you can't kill me or threaten me and get it for yourselves. My guards are outside now, and we'll have a nasty bloodbath if your people try anything." He leaned back in his chair. "So, are we allies, or not?"

"I have a question," Jaime said. "If you have some magical horn that will supposedly make the dragons obey you and destroy the Targaryen fleet, what do you need us for?" He didn't really believe such a thing existed, but then he was also a little sceptical about the dragons themselves, although they were a known creature that certainly had existed once, so he was more inclined to believe they were real, at least.

Greyjoy smiled at him. "Because, as you pointed out, it's a magical horn that supposedly controls dragons. I know how it works, but it's not as though I've had the chance to actually test it on a dragon before. I have no idea if it'll work as it's supposed to, or if there'll be a delay before the dragons are controlled. So we'll need a large, well-armed and well-manned fleet on our side. I'd really rather not sail up to the Dragon Queen by myself, blow that horn and just hope it all works out. But if you'd rather reject my offer of an alliance, I suppose I could always make that the backup plan. Though in that case, I will reserve the right to fry the lot of you with my dragons right after I've finished with the Targaryen girl. And my niece and nephew."

"Is that a threat, Lord Greyjoy?" Cersei asked.

Greyjoy looked at her. "That's King Greyjoy. I've claimed the Salt Throne, just as you've claimed the Iron one, Your Grace. And no, I'm not making threats. I'm offering an alliance, in exchange for your men and ships."

Cersei sat back down. "Assuming that this plan of your works, what's to stop you from turning the dragons on us?"

Euron spread his arms expansively. "My word as an honourable ally." He looked around at their unimpressed faces, and laughed. "Alright, look, the fact is, I'd have control of the dragons, but I still only have a very small number of Ironborn, compared to your mainland forces, and those numbers do count. We need to work together to mount a large enough force to stop the Dragon Queen's fleet, and even after the dragons are taken from her, we could still be of much greater use to each other as allies than as enemies." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "And I was thinking, once we've finished with the Dragon Queen… (and just what we decide to do with her is still up for discussion, in my mind,) well, after that, we could take the fleet and the dragons north, and crush those irritating Starks you seem to hate so much." He grinned. "What do you think, Your Grace? Would Sansa Stark's head on a platter be enough to convince you that our alliance is worthwhile? Because we can make that part of our endgame, if you like."

Jaime glanced at Cersei, who looked interested. She turned to Qyburn. "Send for the servants to bring us more wine, if you would," she told him, before returning her attention to Greyjoy. "It seems that we have much to discuss."