The Dragon and the Hawke 63

- Sunspear -

The ease with which he'd managed to get this far was boggling. It was like these Dornish fucks hadn't been expecting any retaliation for their assassination of Princess Myrcella. Sure, they probably weren't expecting a magical Pirate like himself, but they should have expected something at the very least!

But, Euron Greyjoy never looked a gift horse in the mouth for long. He usually ate them.

The eating in this case was unfortunately going to have to wait until he was back on the Silence, his great ship. Ellaria Sand was heavier than he'd expected. The bitch had put up a good fight, for a woman who hadn't done much more than lie on her back for most of her life as greater people had their way with her.

Oberyn Martell having been the longest running lover, before his unfortunate Red Viper would have been a fantastic opponent to face, a fight that would have gone down in the annals of history. Still, the way the Prince had died instead would be in history anyway, and Euron was excited to try and make his own impact.

Euron moves more slowly than he would have liked, carrying the Ellaria Sand over his shoulder. He had to compensate for her weight and the fact that it was black as pitch. He'd picked a cloudy day, and it seemed the clouds were interested in doing more than staying. By the sound of thunder, he could guess that one of the few storms to hit Dorne was going to strike within the next hour or so.

It would provide the perfect cover for him to escape with. The Dornish weren't sailors, and their ships would be lost to the storms. If they weren't lost, they it would still be very hard to find a ship like the Silence.

"Hey!"

Fuck, he'd been spotted.

Euron spins, a snarl on his throat, and sees three guards rushing towards him. A small spell, one he'd learnt from tomes stolen out of Qarth in Essos, leaves his lips and crashes into the floor. The men rushing give surprised cries as they ground under their feet softens to sand. Their cries are muffled as their faces plant, though one smacks his chin and the clap of his teeth smacking together makes even Euron wince.

And then the sand returns to stone, and two of the man are trapped to suffocate in the unforgiving floor. The last screams in panic, and Euron beats a hasty retreat.

- Meereen -

Dany and Ser Barristan are looking over a map of Yunkai, the Queensguard pointing to key positions within the city already lost to plague. It seemed that there was no true rhyme or reason to where the plague would pop up, the match a splattered blotching if human illness.

"How do we contain it?" She ask.

"Ser Jorah is having men burn the buildings around the contaminated areas," Barristan tells her, "until Lady Marian's call for healers is answered, that will have to do."

Dany sighs, frustrated, as she absorbs the information. It wasn't the first time she'd heard this, nor would it be the last. She demanded reports near hourly, and the kind old knight indulged her.

She certainly hoped that no more trouble would rear its head before this issue was resolved.

- Eastwatch by the Sea -

Tormund Giantsbane looked out over the vast swaths of land beyond the Wall. It had once been his homeland, a place he loved and hated. The cold was the worst, and then the dead had come and they'd been worse than the cold. Come to think of it, he really hated his homeland.

He really hated the dead, too.

"We're fucked."

He looks to his side, and one of his fellow Free Folk look back at him and shrug. Jon had asked them to man Eastwatch by the Sea and let him know if the dead were marching. Well the dead were marching.

They were a distant shape on the horizon at the moment, but the massive collection of shambling corpses was so large that there was no white of snow to be seen after their ranks started.

Tormund couldn't help but agree with his fellow, they were certainly fucked, but not, "If those dragons Snow promised show, then we'll be fine."

"Fuck fine, Giantsbane, you see how many of the fuckers there are?"

"Aye, you want to know how many cowardly cunts I can see, too?"

The wildling growls at him, but holds his tongue when the others around them chuckle. It wasn't much, but Tormund was calling it a victory. He turns to his other side and tells the wizened old man, the Maester of Eastwatch, "Get word to Jon Snow, he needs to tell the witch to hurry the fuck over."

The Maester nods and makes for the stairs. Tormund watches him go for a few minutes before turning back to the advancing army of the dead, "How long do you think it'll take them to get here?"

"Three days."

"Really, that quick?" Tormund frowns, it usually took the walking dead and their masters weeks to make it a mile so long as there weren't any living in their way.

"Aye, I bet the cunts can smell us, they'll be wanting to make a go at us before the witch arrives."

"Fuckers."

- Highgarden -

"So what do they call you then?" Olenna Tyrell asks the rough looking man in front of her. Tarly's boy, Dickon, had brought the man to her, claiming he was a representative of Stannis Baratheon. She'd be the judge of that.

"Davos, my lady," He tells her, "Folk that think it an insult call me the Onion Knight."

"Ah, Seaworth, you really are King Stannis's man."

"I am," Davos nods, and when she waves at the empty chair across from her, he sits, "Afore we begin, I'm sorry for your loss."

Olena narrows her eyes at him, "Loss, what would you know of loss, ser?"

"Plenty, My Lady, I started this war with seven sons, now I have three," He tells her plainly, "And I know folk who've lost a fair bit more than even that."

"Have you a way to bring back my granddaughter, my grandson?" She asks, "Or even my oaf of a son?"

"No, which is why I am sorry," Davos frowns, "I'd do anything to have my own boys back, but they went same as yours."

"And how is that?"

"Wildfire and Lannisters," He tells her, "But my boys were killed in war, and I can't well blame the dwarf Lannister for his part in their deaths."

"Well my son and grandchildren died a far more senseless death, at the hands of a monster."

"Aye," Davos nods, "And that's why King Stannis has sent me here."

"You want to assault King's Landing, now? Just as Winter is starting?"

"He wants the threats of the south dealt with before those of the North reveal themselves."

"The North is rebelling again?"

"No, my lady, seems there's an army of the dead on its way to kill us all."

"The dead? You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't expect anything," He tells her, "I'm just telling you what his grace wants me to tell you, but if you want proof that magic exists and that the walking dead are real, look to the east."

"East is King's Landing, and as monstrous as Cersei is, I don't think -"

"Further, my lady, I mean Daenerys Targaryen and her pet goddess."

"Ah, the Storm God, truly common folk are taken by fancy."

"I'd be inclined to believe it if I hadn't seen her tear a hole in the world with my own eyes," Davos tells her, and when she raises an eyebrow he explains, "I watched her tear open a window, a way through from Winterfell to Meereen. I've been to both, my land, and she made a yearlong journey in a single step."

"And you think that because a powerful eastern magician exists, that ancient legends are coming true?"

"I don't know, but my king and his red lady believe in them," Davos tells her, "I may not like the Lady Melisandre much, but she's conjured some dark powers and shown me shit that makes my stomach coil."

"So on the basis that two witches believe the dead are walking south, you believe it as well?"

"Not just them, but Lord Commander Snow as well."

"Who?"

"Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, young lad."

"Ned Stark's bastard boy?"

"The very same," Davos nods, "He led an expedition beyond the Wall to treat with Wildlings. He killed a White Walker with a Valyrian Steel sword while defending them from the dead."

Olena stares at him, then she sighs, "And so the age of heroes has come again, I'd truly hoped I would be dead by now."

"S'not all bad, my lady," Davos says.

"And how is that?"

"We could be one of the poor buggers cast as the heroes."

- Castle Black -

Jon Snow reads the scroll, and cursed.

"What is it?" Edd Tollett asks.

"They're at Eastwatch," He tells his friend.

Edd nods, "Tormund, yeah, you sent 'em there."

"The dead, Edd."

"Oh, bugger."

Jon nods, then stands and moves towards the wall. He'd had a large white X painted on it, and in the center was a spark of green energy. Pressing it, the hole expanded and his hair was messed by the cold air around him escaping into the warmth of Meereen.

A Scalebound turns to regard him, "Lord Snow."

"I must speak with her grace," He tells the soldier.

The man nods, and waves for him to come through. Together they enter the throne room, and Jon casts his eyes about. It's far more empty than it had been the last instance he'd set foot in Meereen. It was completely empty, even.

The Scalebound leads him through the pyramid, and upwards. Jon had never gone further than the throne room, so he was glad for the guide, even as he tried to memorize their path. A few minutes of walking later and they were in front of an open doorway.

"Hold here, I will tell her grace you have arrived."

Jon nods, hating the delay but knowing he couldn't just barge into the room. The Scalebound entered, and he heard the man declare him, a quick exchange of words and he was ushered into the chamber.

It was a council chamber, but only Dany and Ser Barristan were within. The old knight gives him a respectful nod, which is returned equally, as Daenerys asks, "Lord Commander, has something happened?"

"Aye, your grace, Tormund Giantsbane sends word from Eastwatch, the dead are nearly upon them."

"So soon?" She straightens.

"Winter is here, your grace," He notes, "And they've been marching since spring. I doubt they had much trouble reaching the keep from Hardhome."

"How many men man Eastwatch?" Barristan asks.

"Not enough," Jon tells her, "I've come to ask for the aid you promised at the start of our alliance."

Dany closes her eyes, pensive, but she tells him, "You will have it, Lord Commander. I cannot travel myself, I must remain within the Maw. A plague is afflicting my people and I cannot leave them. You will have Marian and my children, however. I also grant you leave to use the White room to move your men to Eastwatch if you so desire."

"Thank you, your grace," Jon nods, "I must inform my family of the impending danger, next, so they can call their banners to defend the North should we fall."

"Good luck, Lord Commander."