THE GODS EYE

CYARA

I had forgotten about them. That was her first thought when she saw the track indicating the wolf's pack was near. The beasts wouldn't get near to the column, but the pack itself wasn't what made her worry. The only reason they had been following the procession was Nymeria and Ghost were guiding them. When will you give me some peace, Brynden?

She stood up and directed to her horse; she had to return to the castle before the snow started to fall. She perceived movement right behind her and knew she would have difficulties.

"You found me. I surrender," she sighed. There was no use in trying to get away. "Come, I'll take you to the castle."

There was a new layer of snow upon Harrenhal when they made it to the entrance. The snow, combined with the ruins of the towers, made the place look colder and depressing. She handed the reins of the horse to one of the sentinels.

"Lady Stark, we have been looking for you. You shouldn't leave the castle alone."

No one cared when I was a wildling. In the end, Cyara decided to ignore that and the way she had been addressed.

"I wasn't alone, see?" she signaled to her companion. The guard was about to protest; she interrupted him immediately, "there's a wolf pack very close. I don't think they will become a problem, but the explorers should be careful."

"Yes, my Lady."

Most of the place was deserted. Those who didn't have a job to do had already searched the shelter of the hearth at the main hall. The few who were outside widened their eyes when they saw her companion.

The guard in front of the door bowed when she entered. Cyara grimaced; she wasn't used to be on the other side yet.

"Someone came to see you, Snow," she said as she hung her cloak.

Jon was reading parchments at the dining table. "I told the guards it was enough..." He widely smiled when he saw Ghost; the dire wolf got nearer to sniff at him. "I missed you, buddy," Jon scratched the wolf behind the ears. "Where did you find him?"

"He found me while I was outside," she sat at the table. "Did we get good news?" She took one of the parchments to give it a look.

"There's still no answer from the Wall, but Sam will join us at the Neck. Three Maesters come with him." Jon looked happy to know he would see his friend again.

"How cooperative." They had asked for six. "How much time are we going to stay here?"

"Until Randyll Tarly returns from Maidenpool with the northern prisoners."

"At least another week," she pursed her lips. "Is it imperative to wait for them?"

"I don't want to delay my meeting with Harrion Karstark. I'd like to add the Karstarks forces to our host."

"Do you have to take that risk? Surely Alys Karstark would help you."

Harrion Karstark had motives to reject and act against Jon. He would have enough trouble trying to prompt the Lords and the Watch to cooperate with the free folk already.

"Alys married Sigorn Thenn; the Karstarks won't follow her with her older brother still alive. Plus, I had nothing to do with his father's beheading."

I'll have to keep an eye on that Karstark.

"You're being strangely optimistic; maybe Harrenhal is enchanted after all."

"Maybe," he frowned. "Why do you want to leave? Has something gone wrong at the Wall?"

She unconsciously gave a side glance to Ghost, "to be honest, I don't know." It had been long since she last communicated with Brynden. "But that's not the problem. I'd prefer to keep the wildfire's cart moving."

"I thought the cold weather and the sword would be enough to prevent an accident."

They surrounded the flasks with fresh snow every day, and Heartfreezer remained unsheathed in the cart to keep the temperature low.

"We can never be too cautious when it comes to wildfire."

Traveling with wildfire was dangerous, although not as dangerous as dragons. After Rhaegal and Viserion appeared unexpectedly at the Red Keep Jon had decided it would be better if the beasts stayed at the reconstructed Dragonpit. He would call Rhaegal once they had made it to the Wall, and only if necessary. That way he wouldn't have to be concerned about controlling the dragon the whole time.

"I'll try to rush the departure," he fell silent for a moment and stared at her.

"What?"

"The guards complained again."

"Ugh, I hate to have them following me all the time," she tossed the parchment on the table.

Cyara couldn't stand to stay in a single place not doing anything. She liked checking on the supplies or helping the crannogmen with the scouting. The guards were always getting in her way.

"They are concerned about your safety."

The gold's safety would be more accurate. The northerners had never been very friendly with her.

"I've been alone in more dangerous places," she shrugged.

"I promised your uncle that I would take care of you," his tone was sincere, but the words had made her upset.

She found herself wishing stupidly his concern wouldn't be related to a commitment made to someone else. She felt the urge to get out of there.

"I can't promise anything," she stood up. "I'll go and check the wildfire."

She ended in the godswood. One way or another she always ended there when she was upset.

"I heard you have had trouble being a proper Lady." Arya appeared behind a tree.

"Are you going to teach me?" She asked sarcastically.

"You should have asked Sansa because you are driving the guards crazy." Arya had her wolfish smile.

"You are in no position to say that."

Arya disappeared more frequently than she did. Only the gods knew where she went or what she was doing. The difference was no one made a fuss about that.

"I know they were rude with you at the beginning, but they don't want to bother you."

"They are exaggerating," she took a pebble from the floor and threw it against a tree.

"That is because they think you could be risking the existence of an heir."

At that moment she realized the northerners expected certain things from her, and it would get worse with time. Her irritation transformed into unease; she didn't know whether she could handle that.

"I'm not..." Saying it made her more uncomfortable.

"Carrying a wolf pup? Some like to think you are," she shrugged. "I'm just explaining their behaviour."

"Well, I am not."

And I will never. Even if they had grown slightly closer, it was clear that Jon didn't want that sort of relationship. At least not with her. He was always incredibly cautious.

"Which is wonderful for me because I need to ask you something." Arya's expression turned serious. "I have reasons to suspect there is a Faceless Assassin among the servants."

"Again?"

Arya nodded. "There are two persons worthy of hiring a Faceless Assassin here," she had lowered her tone.

Wonderful. That was the last thing they needed.

"What do you want me to do?"

"For the time being, become Jon's shadow. It will be less suspicious that way. I'll take care of the Silver Prince."

"Will they keep coming if they fail?" She wondered how longer they would be able to stop such menace.

"Not if we reach an agreement."

"Is that even possible?"

"The gift must be delivered, but the name can be changed," Arya said matter-of-factly.

"Do you have a name?"

"I have a list, remember? The difficult part is to choose from that list." Arya looked delighted by the perspective.

She stilled for a moment. After dealing with the White Walkers, there were few things that could disturb her, and Arya Stark had just managed to do it.

TYRION

"Noho Dimittis has arrived, my Lord," Pod announced while staring at his feet.

Finally. He wanted to finish the Crown's relationship with the Iron Bank once and for all. He had to start working on the issues strictly related to the Realm. The end of the war was just the beginning of the problems for the Master of Coin.

"Bring him, Pod." He stood up to receive his distinguished visitor.

"Lord Tyrion Lannister, am I right?" Tyrion found his accent strange, even for a Braavossi.

"Judging my peculiar appearance, my Lord, it's hard to mistake me for someone else." Tyrion made a gesture to invite the man to sit.

"Certainly, I wouldn't mistake you for your royal sister, my Lord. You hardly look like her," the man paused and stared at him. "I hope you don't think like her either."

That would make me stupid.

"Fortunately for the Crown, I don't. I know how to deal with the Iron Bank."

"I'm curious. I hope you're not talking about excuses or coughs because I've had enough of those already."

Cersei and Gyles. It was possible that with enough time, Tommen would have fallen without the intervention of the dragons.

"I'm talking about gold."

"Gold," the man repeated with a gleam in his eyes. "It's good to hear that. How much?"

"All of it," Tyrion said nonchalantly.

The Braavosi frowned. "Do you mean the equivalent to the delayed payments of the debt?"

"I mean the entire debt," Tyrion had to repress his laughter when he saw the surprise in the other man's expression.

"Seriously, my Lord?" The man had recovered his calm demeanor. "The eighteen million golden dragons?"

Tyrion nodded, "ten trunks with two million dragons each are on their way to Braavos. Two extra million as atonement for the inconveniences the Crown caused to your legendary organization."

And to make sure you stop financing Stannis Baratheon.

"I thought the situation of the Seven Kingdoms was, well, precarious."

"It is, my Lord," Tyrion made a painful face. "However, one must be smart, even when the situation is difficult."

The Iron Bank had never liked the dragons. The founders of Braavos and the Iron Bank were descendants of the slaves that had escaped from the Valyrian Freehold. The Targaryens represented the last trace of everything they hated. They could still want to obliterate them. Tyrion didn't want to give them a method to reach their objective.

"I wonder who was stupid enough to lend money to a lost cause."

"Unfortunately for your curiosity, that is unrelated to our negotiations, my Lord."

"Such a shame," the man sipped his wine for the first time. "Anyways, it's not that I don't enjoy your company, but I must deliver the message to the Iron Bank. And of course, I must prepare the documents to consign the end of our contract," Noho Dimittis stood up and offered him a hand.

"I wouldn't dare to delay you any longer," Tyrion said as he took the man's hand.

"We'll be glad to start new contracts with the Iron Throne in the future."

If the gods are merciful, we won't.

"That won't be necessary," Tyrion said instead as he watched the foreigner exiting the Small Hall.

Now starts the hardest part for me. The Realm was in ruins, magical creatures were about to attack, and the Crown was totally indebted. In ten years, his decisions could cost him the head. At least I got rid of the Iron Bank. That alone was a reason to be proud.

Tyrion asked Pod for parchment and ink; he had to inform Aegon that the Iron Bank wouldn't be a problem anymore. He noticed there was a great fuss inside the Red Keep when he was directing to the rookery, but he paid it no mind.

"This one is for the Crown Prince and this one for my brother, Engel." Tyrion handed both letters to the Grand Maester.

"Is it an urgent matter, my Lord?"

The new Grand Maester was younger than Pycelle and less disgusting. He was skilled and diligent in everything he did, always ready to lend a hand or offer counsel. He had the face of a trustworthy man, and he already stunk to roses.

"Not especially. I'm informing him that the Iron Bank has received its due and will give us some peace."

"His Grace will be filled with good news when the ravens make it to Harrenhal," the Maester said with a nod.

"Really?" He was curious.

"Haven't you heard, my Lord? Princess Margaery is with child, leastwise for the last moon. I confirmed it today; everyone is ecstatic."

Magnificent. That explained the fuss. Is there a possibility that the baby isn't Aegon's? No, there wasn't. Aegon had only been out for a fortnight but had spent nearly two moons with his Golden Rose. Tyrion was furious; with a child, Margaery had secured her position as Queen. He started to wonder whether he and Sansa were playing the same Game. Good thing we'll meet before she leaves for the Vale.

"That is incredible," he said.

Tyrion tried to control his anger as he walked. He needed to think, but first he needed to finish his duties for the day; he directed to the Tower of the Hand.

The world might be about to end. The Fat Flower was accompanying a smiling Connington.

"Welcome, welcome, Lord Tyrion. Have you heard the excellent news?" The Fat Flower received and poured him the wine personally.

"I have. It's a shame because my report will be eclipsed now."

"More good news, Lord Hand," the Fat Flower clacked; he was clearly drunk already. "I told you their union was blessed."

"You certainly did, Lord Tyrell," Connington regarded him. "Which are your good news?"

"I have dismissed the Iron Bank, hopefully, forever."

"That is excellent to hear."

"You should thank Cyara and her uncle," he saw the Fat Flower flinching, "and our Master of Law, of course."

"It was my duty to the Realm, Lord Tyrion," The Fat Flower was trying to be modest.

It was your duty to your ambition.

"I must thank you. Seeing the Hand smile, it's quite a spectacle."

For once, Connington didn't growl or frown.

"I have reasons to smile. Things are finally looking up," he paused; his stare was full of wistfulness. "I've been thinking this is how the always meant things to be."

Then the gods are more vicious than Joffrey.

"I can imagine at least ten easier ways to put Aegon on the Iron Throne and Jon at Winterfell." Tyrion knew Connington might feel he had at last fulfilled his oath to his late friend.

But the gods don't like the easy way. The Rebellion, the War of the Five Kings, and thousands of lost lives was the price to reach that conclusion. History had given a dramatic turn, and the two princes had been raised as a bastard and a sellsword. Beautiful.

"Perhaps it wasn't supposed to be easy for them. Otherwise, they wouldn't be worthy of their position."

Tyrion was about to tell him that was a stupidity until he remembered Joffrey. There could be some truth in Connington's words.

What's wrong with him? It was odd for Connington to be that sentimental.

"Perhaps," Tyrion admitted as he prepared to get drunk; the occasion warranted it.

"Where's your husband? I don't want to cause you trouble."

"At a brothel, no doubt," she said serenely.

"Are you fine with that?"

"We reached an agreement," she sat gracefully on the fresh snow. "He says that he loves me, but one woman is not enough for him. Not in bed." As usual, her face was hidden behind her hood, so he couldn't discern her expression. "I told him that I don't care who he fucks as long as he doesn't take a paramour or procreates another bastard."

Most men would die to reach such an agreement with their wives.

"Sounds like you got the worse part." Tyrion suddenly felt sorry for her.

"For real? He won't be able to deny me anything, now."

She knows what she's doing. Harry didn't know how tangled he was in her strings. Maybe, none of us knows.

"You're leaving tomorrow." He set the other issue aside.

"I am. So what?"

"Your friend is carrying a dragon spawn," he said impatiently. "Didn't you know?"

"I know. I was there when the Maester informed her," her tone was unreadable.

"Do you understand that now nothing will stop her from being crowned? Particularly if the baby is a boy." Tyrion felt his anger increasing. "Seriously, I thought we would do more than make her feel insecure and jealous of another woman."

Sansa released an exasperated breathing and removed her hood. Her Tully blue eyes were staring at him full of determination. "Do you know which the most important lesson Petyr gave me was?"

I'm not in the mood for riddles. Tyrion scowled.

"Don't know. Be wary of cats?"

"No. Patience," she had put especial emphasis on the word. "Petyr waited almost twenty years to take his revenge against my father," there was a hint of longing in her face, but it was just for an instant.

"So, what happens in twenty years?" It was an unbearable amount of time for Tyrion.

"Are you going to keep cooperating with me?"

"Do I have any other option?" There was no turning back for either of them. "I just want to know that I'm risking myself for a satisfactory outcome."

Living at King's Landing, he was the one who will have to inform her about the important stuff.

"No child of Margaery Tyrell will sit on the Iron Throne," she stated as sure as the sun rises in the east. "You have my word."

"I would never doubt the word of a Stark," he grinned.

And so it starts again. No matter how dangerous it was, Tyrion would always enjoy playing the Game.

JON

"So, basically, you're asking me to obey the heir of the man who beheaded my father."

Jon had not seen Harrion Karstark in almost ten years, but he was sure there was little left of the man he had been. That was what war did to people. He didn't look old, but his features had become harder.

"You're being disrespectful, Lord Karstark," Maege Mormont pointed. "Jon Stark is the brother of the future King of Westeros and Lord Paramount of the North."

"Dragon or wolf, he's still a bastard."

"A bastard with a dragon and a wolf. Which kind of death would you fancy, Lord Karstark?"

Lady Maege found Cyara's remark hilarious; Jon, not so much. However, it had thrown Harrion Karstark out of balance.

"Am I going to be sentenced?"

"That depends on your decision." That meeting had taken too long already. "I'm offering you Karhold and resources to start again. What else do you want?"

"My father trusted a Stark, and that Stark beheaded him."

"I'm not going to justify my brother, but there's no use for us to carry on with the quarrel. Your sister was wise enough to understand that."

"And you married her to a savage."

"I gave her an option; she made the decision."

Harrion Karstark exhaled, "my men will consider me weak if I kneel to you."

"I'm not asking you to kneel. I'm asking you to cooperate with me."

"I have no alternative. I'll put my life in your hands, Jon Stark."

We'll see.

"It's settled then. Lord Glover, please escort Lord Karstark to his chamber," he walked to the door. "Be sure to have a proper rest, my Lords; we leave first thing in the morning."

He opened the door just to stumble with Aegon. His brother had the brighter smile he had ever seen. Jon questioned Duck with his eyes; the knight only shook his head.

"I just received a letter from Margaery," Aegon started. "I'm going to be a father. I would have liked to wait, but this is... I don't think I've ever been happier. Can you imagine it? The first Targaryen to be born in twenty years," his eyes had gone wide.

Jon had barely understood what he had said for Aegon had rushed every word. He couldn't help his grin when Aegon stopped blabbering.

"I'm happy for you, Aegon." It was true, mainly because he knew how insecure his brother had been at the beginning.

"Damn," he gasped while running a hand through his hair. "I must write a response to Margaery," and he left as unexpectedly as he had appeared.

"Good luck, Duck." Jon knew Aegon wouldn't stay still for a while. The white knight rolled his eyes before chasing Aegon.

"A baby dragon. If the gods are generous, they will send a dire wolf too." Lady Maege winked an eye at Cyara.

"Yeah right." There was no enthusiasm in Cyara's answer.

They returned to their chamber together; it had been like that since the arrival of Ghost. After the wedding, they had dedicated to different activities and limited to share the room during the night. Jon attended the meetings while Cyara made sure the supplies and resources were used wisely and transported correctly. Then, they exchanged opinions before going to sleep. Jon had seen it as an efficient way to have things done. He had not been able to understand the change in the routine at first.

Now he suspected it was related to the northerners treatment. Once they married, and despite being aware of the things Cyara could do, they had become overprotective. They watched her incessantly; that couldn't be pleasant. However, after she had become his shadow, the northerners calmed a bit.

"Do you have any idea of what Arya has been doing lately?" Jon asked during supper. Arya had never been able to stay still, but he had scarcely seen her the last couple of days and that made him worry.

"Looking for Nymeria or exploring the castle," she was distracted.

It must be because of Lady Maege's comment.

"Lady Maege didn't intend to make you uncomfortable."

That made her lift her gaze. "Well, she did, but that's not your fault. I carelessly overlook I would acquire certain duties after the ceremony."

"You don't have to fulfill duties." She shouldn't have been forced into that situation from the start. "I'll explain them everything."

"Don't be foolish, Snow. Your vassals wouldn't be able to keep the secret and Syronno would know the truth before we made it to the Wall."

Always rationally thinking. The Magister had left a couple of men to keep an eye on them. If they discovered their agreement, they would inform the Syronno right away.

"I'll tell them to stop bothering you." That was the minimum he could do.

"They will forget once they have to focus on the White Walkers."

"I promise you won't have to endure this longer than necessary."

Jon was grateful to her. Sometimes, Cyara seemed to be the only one who understood the gravity of the situation. However, he couldn't avoid feeling like he had unfairly dragged her into something that was exclusively his obligation; that he had snatched something from her. Cyara's place was at Pentos, not accompanying him to hell.

"You worry too much," she said with a faint smile. "Stop overthinking or you won't be able to rest properly."

Overthinking or not, he awoke before dawn. Cyara was moving in her sleep, complaining.

A nightmare?

"Hey," he shook her. "Cyara," he shook her harder until she opened her eyes.

Cyara sat up immediately, panting and trembling. She covered her face with her hands and breathed a couple of times.

"It was just a nightmare," he tried to reassure her.

"It wasn't. It was a message from Brynden."

Who's that? It was the first time he heard that name.

"The raven," she answered his unspoken question. "He wants to speak with you."

Is the Wall under attack?

"How?"

She meditated an instant, "the Isle of Faces. We can catch up with the procession later."

An hour after that, they were boarding a raft with a pair of crannogmen and Ghost. For his surprise, Arya didn't demand to go with them when he informed her what he was doing. Jon entrusted Galbart Glover with the task of leading the northerners out of Harrenhal.

"Are the messages always like that?" He dared to ask as they crossed the lake. He couldn't remember another episode like that.

"No, only when he's mad at me," she was speaking softly as if she dreaded to disturb something.

"Mad?"

"I disobeyed most of his commands since we made it to Storm's End."

Rhaegal; all the time we lost. She had wanted him to warg into the dragon to avoid the encounter with Daenerys. He had refused.

"That time you weren't seasick, it was him." He felt like an idiot. "How does he do it?"

"It kind of works like warging. The link is stronger the closer we are."

"I thought he was north of the Wall."

"Distance doesn't matter when there's a weirwood." He was about to point out that there were no weirwoods at Harrenhal, but she interrupted him. "Don't you think Ghost looks like one?"

Yes, he had noted the resemblance the day he pronounced his oath to the Watch. He had not thought it had an especial meaning.

"It's not his fault," Cyara petted Ghost's head, "he's a medium, like the trees, right?" The dire wolf licked her face in response.

The talk ended at that point for they had reached the shore of the island. There was absolute calm; their mere presence seemed to profane the atmosphere. The moment he set feet on the shore he felt like he was being observed. There was one weirwood for every dozen of common trees; all had red faces carved on them.

They walked into the woods while the crannogmen waited at the raft. They reached a place where the weirwoods were the only type of tree; one and all were more ancient than any weirwood he had ever seen. A group of weirwoods with especially frightening faces formed a circle, similar to the one where he recited his vows to the Watch. He could feel the red eyes scrutinizing them when he made it to the center of the circle. The wind blew, stealing a song from the red leaves in the process. Suddenly, the rustle transformed into a murmur, then a whisper and finally into words.

"The Promised Prince."

"Are you the raven?" He was talking to the void, yet felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"Raven, greenseer, three-eyed crow, Brynden, Bloodraven. All of those."

"What do you want from me?"

"Fulfill your destiny."

"How do you know I'm the right person?"

"Born of Ice and Fire."

Lyanna and Rhaegar?

"Are the Others attacking already?" That was the question he needed to be answered.

"Not yet. Soon."

"Will they arrive before I do?"

"No."

He felt an overwhelming relief. They still had time.

"Then what do you want?" The way he talked had started to fluster him. "I'm doing what I can to defend the Wall."

"Not enough. Need dragons."

"The dragons are dangerous. I can hardly control one of them."

"Dragons," he repeated. "Fire."

"It's too dangerous, and we have dragonglass."

"Useless. Burn them all."

'Burn them all,' Aerys Targaryen had said before Jaime Lannister murdered him.

"There must be another way."

"Dragons. Fire and Blood. Dragons." The leaves started to move more violently.

We will never get out of here if this goes on.

"Fine. I'll burn each one of them."

"Dragons. Hurry."

"I'll call them once I make it to the Wall."

"Fulfill your destiny."

"I will." A question came to his mind. "Why are you punishing her?"

"My serf," he claimed.

"Isn't there someone else?"

"All gone."

There were others. Jon wondered how many others the raven had been using.

"I'll do it if you stop bothering her."

He got no answer this time. The wind blew, and the leaves rustled, yet there were no more words. Just the trace of a melody that repeated dragons, over and over again.

The talk had been brief. He felt like he had learned nothing, except that they would make it in time to the Wall. Then again, had everything being real or had he just imagined it? The moment he stepped out of the circle of weirwoods, it started to feel unreal. He kept walking silently considering what he had just experienced. He looked up at the sky and realized it was almost noontime.

"How much time did I spend there?"

"Three hours, maybe four."

"It felt like..."

"Minutes? You are not used to the song of the leaves. That's why you took so long to understand the message."

"It would have been faster if he had told you."

"He thinks I manipulated you to leave the dragons behind and I would try to distort the message."

It was my doing. Cyara had always been in favor of using the dragons.

"Did he call me here exclusively to encourage me to use the dragons?" Jon asked as the raft made its way back to Harrenhal. He had the feeling that there was something he had missed from the unusual conversation.

"I think so," Cyara turned to watch the Isle of Faces one last time. "Talking with him is invariably frustrating," she shrugged. "I used to end with more questions than answers whenever I consulted him."

"Do yo know what happened with the rest of his..."

"Servants?" She paused to think. "There were two men when I first met Brynden. One disappeared a couple of moons after; the second turned into a wight around three years ago. I heard he had more years before; they started to perish when the White Walkers commenced moving south."

"How did you survive?"

"I rarely followed his orders blindly," she smiled at him with amusement. "I guess that's the reason he holds so much scorn towards me."

That is a poor reason to disturb her. Jon had not forgotten her frightened expression.

"How does he choose?"

"He calls whoever is able to understand the song of the leaves. The smart ones ignore him, the idiots follow him."

"You..."

"I was ten, scared, starving, freezing; I considered him my salvation. I hadn't understood what I had gotten myself into until it was too late," she turned away and that settled their conversation.

Is it right to listen to the raven? Jon had not liked it how he had demanded him to burn the enemy; it made him think more of R'hllor than the Old Gods. Plus, he definitely didn't approve his methods to get things done. All gods must see us as mere puppets.

They had made it back to Harrenhal, and he was still pondering over everything. He remembered something.

"Is your prophecy truly unrelated to mine?" Something had given him the notion that the raven was behind both.

Cyara stopped short as soon as she heard him, then turned swiftly, took his arm and dragged him to the stables. He didn't realize how or when she had managed to corner him against the wooden wall. Jon was trapped between her arms. Despite her intimidating stare, he couldn't ignore how close they were at that moment.

"I know what you're thinking and it's not like that."

"But..."

"Shut up," she silenced him. "Why do you insist in making me remember things that trouble me?"

"I want to be sure it wasn't because of me."

"Seriously, Snow, how is it that your self-imposed blame hasn't choked you yet?" He didn't answer. "I'm not going to repeat it, so you better pay attention," she stepped back with a heavy sigh. "First of all, the prophecy was made by a Red Priest. The crazy man told my cousin one day I would take everything that belonged to him. That is why he sent me north of the Wall. Meeting Brynden was a coincidence, it was my decision to enter into his service, and I didn't even know of your existence yet. Did you understand?"

He nodded.

"Good," her expression softened considerably. "What Brynden has done to me and many others; none is slightly your blame. And I'm not going to run back to Pentos because your northerners made a couple of impertinent comments. This war is mine as much as it is yours."

He was out of words; some weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Without warning, she gave an especially mean tug to his hair.

"Ouch, what was that for?"

"Remember that pain whenever you feel like blaming yourself again," she turned around. "Let's return. Your vassals must be imagining something naughty already."

"Really? In the stables?"

"We're a couple made for scandals, remember?"

He shook his head. "I'm starting to think you enjoy it."

"You have no id... didn't Maege Mormont left with the procession?"

"She did."

"What is she doing here?"

Lady Mormont had crossed the entrance on horseback with a small guard. She ran to meet them as soon as she spotted them.

"What happened?" Jon was getting anxious.

"Don't tell me there was an accident with the wildfire," Cyara was pale.

"What? No," Lady Maege was still panting. "Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth disappeared."

"Did they escape?" It was something stupid; they had nowhere to go.

"No. They were abducted by the Brotherhood."

"Are they planning to start another war?" If they killed Jaime Lannister, the Westerlands would blame Aegon.

"No, Lord Stark. It's a plan to lure you." Maege Mormont was clearly worried.

"What are you talking about?" The situation made less sense every second.

"They left a note saying they will kill them unless you go after them."