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k4marina · 18 days ago

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— vii. Eastwatch || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: the arrival of an old friend marks the beginning of a cold and eventful journey north

warnings: language, night king, game of thrones cannon events, spoilers to the episode Eastwatch, pretty tame chapter ngl

all dialogue in italics are in Valyrian

a/n: note with an update at the end pls read.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

8k word count

[gif found on pinterest]

Weeks had gone by since the attempted sacking on Highgarden and both Tyrion and the Unsullied had returned from Casterly Rock after successfully securing both regions of the west. The entire castle was bustling, Jon and his men mined and prepared the Dragonglass, forging it into weapons and to transport it to Winterfell for when the time was right. Daenerys was busy planning ahead for her battles against Cersei and now the Night King as well.

During the last few weeks I’d been extra careful of whose eyes were on me, considering that there’s a high chance they’re one of Varys’ spies. The young girl, Alana, had periodically come back to do Varys’ dirty work while giving Dany and I information. Like I had suspected, the young girl's parents were killed by Stannis for refusing to take him as their Lord and as Robert for their King.

Regardless, it was clear that Varys wasn’t to be trusted (which I already knew) and that he had eyes and ears everywhere, even on those closest to Daenerys.

I walked around the outside of the castle, taking in the fresh air while clearing my head. Who knew planning for a war that you already knew everything about was so hard. I paused, catching the dragons flying around in the sky. My gaze traveled downwards, spotting Daenerys, Jon, a Dothraki guard, and another man.

Is it time? I carefully made my way to where they stood. He did show up to Dragonstone after the Sack of Highgarden.

Daenerys and I briefly made eye contact as the man bent the knee to her.

“Your Grace,” he slowly stood. Despite only seeing the back of his head and back, I could tell exactly who this was. His voice was deep, a light gravel to it. His hair, a mix of ginger, blonde, and gray.

“Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend.”

“I served with your father,” Jon said. “He was a great man.”

Jon and Jorah nod, acknowledging both of their prowess.

“And this,” Daenerys motions towards me. “Is Y/n Vellarys. She’s been a trusted advisor of mine and a very close friend.”

Jorah turns, spotting me. He doesn’t bother masking his confusion and shock, thinking that I’d be someone else. I watch him look over my hair, clothes, and the sword on my hip. It’s only when I subtly raise a brow does he snap out of it.

“My Lady, it’s an honor to meet you.” He bows his head.

“You look strong.” Says Daenerys. “You found a cure?”

Jorah bows his head, bashfully at the small compliment. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. I return to your service, my queen. If you’ll have me.”

“It would be my honor.” Daenerys smiles.

My eyes roamed down his exposed arm, wrapped in bandages, but overall looking good.

“It seems that Sam has done a fine job.” I commented.

“Sam?” Jon repeats, asking, my Sam?

“He was the one who healed Ser Jorah. Isn’t that right?”

Jorah slowly nods. “How did you know that?”

“I just do,” I shrug, nonchalantly.

“Does that mean that Sam is still at the Citadel?” Jon asks.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Jorah and I respond at the same time, the former looking at me confused again.

“He was there when Ser Jorah left, but by now he’s left the Citadel.” I explained. “A raven from Winterfell has to have arrived by now, which means he’s preparing for his departure for Winterfell.”

“Oh,” I caught myself before I forgot. “Speaking of ravens, one has arrived for you, Jon Snow.”

“Then we should converse further by the table then.” Daenerys steps forward, and everyone follows suit.

I walked beside her to her left while Jorah was a little back and to my right while Jon was to the left of him, behind me.

“You don’t seem surprised that he’s here.” Daenerys says, loud enough for me to hear.

“Not at all. If anything I was waiting for his arrival.”

“What do you know?”

“After you sent him away he traveled to the Citadel. There, he was given the diagnosis that he’d only have a few months left, but he met Samwell Tarly who found a cure and saved him.”

“Samwell Tarly? As in the son Randyl Tarly sent to the wall?”

I nod. “He and Jon are very close friends, brothers even. And, he was the first man to kill a White Walker at the Fist of the First Men.”

“How do you think he’ll feel once he knows the truth?”

“As any son would. But I’m sure if you are clear with what happened he won’t be as.. distraught.”

––

Daenerys and I sat side by side while Varys sat further down. Tyrion and Jorah stood near Daenerys and Jon and Davos stood by the end of the table. Everyone watched as the King in the North read over the raven for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead.” Jon sighed, relieved.

“I’m happy for you. You don’t look happy.” Daenerys points out.

Jon shook his head. “Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch. If they make it past the wall-”

“The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years.” Varys says as if he’s correct. “Presumably-”

“They’ve never traveled down this far.” My eyes glanced down at the table where Eastwatch was marked. “And if the Night King can raise the dead for his army then a wall of ice made of magic is nothing.”

Jon clenches his jaw, looking up at Daenerys. “I need to go home.”

Daenerys furrowed her brows. “You said you don’t have enough men.”

“We’ll fight with the men we have.” Jon sighs. “Unless you’ll join us.”

“And give the country to Cersei? As soon as I march away she marches in.” She shook her head.

“If it’s the West you worry about, we have men protecting it. You can call upon Dickon Tarly to defend Highgarden and Casterly Rock.” I say.

“Cersei thinks the Army of the Dead is nothing but a story made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?” Tyrion suggests.

Jon shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll come see the dead at my invitation.”

Tyrion walks around the table, closer to Jon. “So bring the dead to her.”

“I thought that was what we are trying to avoid.” Daenerys frowns.

“We don’t have to bring the whole army. Only one soldier.” I nod.

Davos turns to Jon. “Is that possible?”

Jon thinks back. “The first White I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from Beyond the Wall.”

“Bring one of these things down to King’s Landing and show her the truth.” Tyrion says.

Varys shakes his head. “Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we step foot in the capital.”

Tyrion purses his lips into a line. “The only person she listens to is Jamie. He may listen to me.”

“And how would you get into King’s Landing?” Daenerys asks.

The room falls silent and everyone looks to Ser Davos. “I can smuggle you in, but if the Goldcloaks were to recognize you, I’m warning you, I’m not a fighter.”

Tyrion nods his head, understanding.

“Well, it will all be for nothing if we don’t have one of these dead men.” I said.

“Fair point. How do you propose to find one?” Varys asks Jon.

Jon pauses and stares at the ground, but Jorah answers before him. He turns to Daenerys, “with the queen’s permission I’ll go north and take one.” Daenerys turns to him, surprised. Jorah continued. “You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you.”

Jon nodded. “The free folk will help us. They know the real north better than anyone.”

“They won’t follow Ser Jorah.” Davos reminded Jon.

“They won’t have to.” Jon replied.

“You can’t lead a raid beyond the wall.” Davos shakes his head. “You’re not in the Night’s Watch anymore. You’re King in the North.”

“I’m the only one here whose fought them. I’m the only one here who knows them.” Jon double downed.

“I’ll go as well.” I nodded towards Jon.

Daenerys shook her head. “I haven’t given permission to leave.” She gives Jon and I a pointed look. “To either of you.”

Jon straightened his back. “With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I am a king. And I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger because it's our best chance.”

Daenerys pauses, everyone looking her way. She looks down in thought for a moment before looking up at Jons pleading eyes, nodding.

“Alright.”

––

“You’re insane.”

Daenerys paces back and forth while I sit in my chair, watching.

“No I’m not.”

She stops, turning to glare at me. “You want to go North and fight an Army of the Dead. That is insanity.”

“So does Jon and his men, does that mean he’s insane as well?”

“That’s different.”

“How?” I huffed. “It’s exactly the same.”

“No it’s not.” She shakes her head. “This conversation is over. You are forbidden to go.”

“Are you saying that as my queen or my sister?”

She purses her lips, sighing out of her nose. “Why do you want to go so badly?”

“There’s something I’m looking for.”

“In a vast tundra?” She raises a brow.

“Yes.” I sighed, standing up and walking to her, grabbing her hands. “Trust me. I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t think it was important. Besides, those boys won’t last long in the North without me.”

She looks down at our hands, nodding.

–––

I stood by the docks, watching as Tyrion stepped onto a small smuggler boat. Davos reached over to untie the mooring line.

“Be careful, the both of you.” I remind them. “And Ser Davos,” he looks up at me, “don’t waste your time wandering around and go straight to the Street of Steel. He’ll be there.”

He frowns, confused, but understands what I’m saying. “I will, My Lady.”

He pushes the boat away and begins to row. I look up to see the sun getting closer to the horizon. By the time they reach the shores of King’s Landing it will be nightfall. I watched them go, before turning back and spotting Jon not too far away, giving orders to his men preparing for their departure for Eastwatch.

“All’s well?”

Jon turned around. “We should be ready to leave by the time Tyrion and Davos return.”

We fell silent andI could tell by the look on his face that he’s itching to say something to me.

“Out with it, Snow.”

He looks down, debating, and then back up. “How do you know?”

“Know what?”

“All of these things. When I first told Daenerys about the Army of the Dead everyone except for you looked shocked, as if you’d already known. You knew about Ser Jorah and Sam, as if you were there yourself.” He shakes his head. “How?”

“I can’t tell you how I know things, but know this; I won’t lie to or betray you and Daenerys. Just trust me and listen to what I have to say and all will be fine.”

He stares at me for a moment and then nods his head, accepting my answer for now but it was clear there was still more on his mind.

“Keep your chin up, things are going to progress fast and we all need to be in shape.”

He nods, “thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. We’re all fighting a war against a common enemy.”

“Yet Daenerys seems to be more concerned with Cersei.”

“She does care. If she didn’t you wouldn’t be standing here.” I said. “But you have to understand that all her life, all that she’s wanted is to come back home. And while Dragonstone is her family's home, so is King’s landing. She’s the last of her house and the people responsible for that are sitting on her family's throne. You can’t blame the girl for having her priorities in line.”

–––

Once Tyrion and Davos had returned Jon and I were ready for our departure. I stood by the steps, watching Davos and a young looking man speaking to one another. His hair was short, but jet black and he carried a hammer.

“You can back out, if you want.” Daenerys came to stand beside me.

“We both know that I can’t do that.”

“Will you at least tell me what’s so important that you have to go?”

“A sword.”

“A sword?” She frowned.

I nodded. “It’s really pretty, too.”

Daenerys gives me a funny look, but doesn’t say much after that. We both descended down the steps and onto the beach. There were two landing boats on the beach, surrounded by two groups of men. A large sailboat was anchored in the water. Tyrion and Jorah talked among themselves as we approached them.

“We should be better at saying farewell by now.” Daenerys says.

“Your Grace, I-” Jorah’s expression flatters.

Daenerys reaches over and takes Jorah by his hands while Jon, Davos, and the black haired man come out of the cave and to us. Jorah bends the knee and kisses Daenerys’ hand as a goodbye. He stands and turns back to the boat, readying it. Davos and the young man both get into the boat. Jon turns to Daenerys, a soft look in both of their eyes.

“If I don’t return at least you won’t have to deal with the King in the North anymore.” He joked.

Daenerys smiled. “But I’ve grown used to him.”

He returns the smile. “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace.”

They share one last look before Jon walks off to the head of the boat. Daenerys watches him, almost longingly and I try my best not to smile. I loudly cleared my throat, catching her attention.

“Ahem!” She turns to me. “I wish you good fortune as well, Your Grace.” I teased. Daenerys’ face turns red and she looks away.

“Enough,” she lightly swats her hand against my arm. “You be safe. Now, go and hurry back.”

I laughed, and nodded. I gave her a formal bow and turned back, making my way to the boat. I sat down next to Davos who left a seat for me.

“Heave!” Jon commands.

The men push the boat into the sea and step on, rowing to where the ship was anchored down. I looked back at Daenerys and Tyrion on the beach, giving them a small wave. A loud roar caught my eye. I glanced atop one of the castle turrets where Viserion stood. He lets out another cry before taking off into the sky.

“He will be joining us?” Ser Davos asks.

“Of course.”

How else would we be leaving the North?

–––

The boat was filled with men to the point it smelt like them; dirty and musty. I stood on the upper deck, watching as Dragonstone got smaller and smaller.

“Already feeling sea sick?”

I looked to my left as Ser Davos approached me. I shake my head. “Not yet. I was just thinking.”

“Mind sharing, My Lady? I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

“It’s weird.” I said. “Being away from Dragonstone for this long.”

“Ah,” he nods. “First time being far away from home.”

“It is. It’s fine, though, I’ll get over it. I saw that you got what you were looking for in King’s Landing.”

He nods. “I did. Thank you, for the advice. But, if I may, how did you know?”

I smiled. “I just do. It’s funny, I said the same thing to Jon when you had left with Tyrion. I’m surprised you were able to hide Robert Baratheon's bastard so well.”

“We hid him in plain sight.”

“And it worked in your favor. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I have to say, I thought that Cersei would have found him by now. The boy was right there.”

“She’s dumb.” I said, dismissively. “Did Jon and him already meet?”

“They did. They were reminiscing over their fathers.”

I hummed. “The honorable Ned Stark and the Usurper.”

“I take it you’re not a fan.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” I shook my head. Everyone praised Robert as if he was some hero, even in the future people still thought of him as some sort of “alpha” and disregarded his actions after taking the throne.

“You won’t hold that against him, will you?”

I frowned. “Who? Gendry?” I shook my head. “His fathers sins aren't his to suffer. And if we’ve learned anything about the children of questionable men, it’s that we shouldn’t judge them so quickly.”

The sun dips below the horizon and the stars start to come alive.”It’s getting late. I’ll be in my cabin.”

Davos bows his head as I turn back and walk below deck. It was my first time in a boat, let alone made of this time period. It creaked and moaned and I swore the further down I went I could hear the water. The hall, or rather walk way was narrow, big enough for two people to sideways cross each other. The doors to the other rooms were filled with men talking.

At the far right was a closed door with the Stark sigil. I knocked once, hearing a muffled “come in.”

Jon stood by a large desk, papers thrown around. I closed the door behind me and stood across from him at the table. I looked down at the map he was glaring at. Circles were drawn on the map, all north of the wall.

“Is this where they’ve been?”

“Aye.” Jon sighs, crossing his arms. “They’re moving fast and we don’t have enough men-”

“We do. We have a gaggle of them.”

“But-”

“No but’s. We’re going to defeat the Army of the Dead and then we’re going to deal with Cersei and then Daenerys is going to ascend the throne and everyone will live happily ever after.”

Jon frowned. “How are you so sure? What if we lose? What if Cersei wins?”

“Because I have to be sure. I have to believe that all will turn out fine. The more I think about the what if’s the easier it is for me to lose sight. And neither can you. We’re going beyond the wall, into White Walker territory and I need to make sure you’re fit to lead us. Are you?”

“I am.”

“Good.” I smiled. “Besides, a certain dragon queen is waiting for your return.” I said in a lighter tone, teasing him.

Jon visibly blushed, looking down at the map. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” I say, not convinced. “Honestly, what are your thoughts on her?”

I could see heat creep up his exposed neck. He clears his throat, “she’s beautiful.”

“That she is.”

“And charming. Ahem, and kind.” Jon smiles to himself. “She’s witty, and has a child-like wonder. She’s also brave, not just because of the dragons, but because of what she’s gone through. She’s resilient and a true leader, everyone holds her in such high regards not because of her birthright but because of her character and morals.”

“If I knew any better I’d say that Jon Snow has grown to fancy our queen.” I laughed at his face turning red again. “That’s enough fun for now, I guess. I’ll leave you to do your duties.”

Jon smilies, shaking his head as I take my leave. The hall is a lot quieter now, mostly because everyone was in the mess, eating their dinner before some settled into the night or prepared for night duty. A door in front on the left swung open and out stepped Gendry. He makes eye contact with me, but quickly looks away and rushes past me. He makes it a few steps before I stop him.

“Stop.”

His footsteps flatter. I turned around, his back to me. “You’re not going to greet me properly?”

I could see his shoulder tense, but he turned around, bowing his head, still not making eye contact.

“Apologies M’lady. I mean no disrespect.”

I hum. “What’s your name?”

“Clovis,” he responds quickly. I almost laugh at the name.

“Clovis,” I repeat. “Clo-vis. You don’t look like a Clovis.” I stepped closer. “More like a Gendry.”

His head snaps up, shocked. He looked as if he’d been caught with his pants down. “How?”

“Doesn't matter. I wanted to see you for myself.” My eyes roamed across my face. It was clear as day he was a Baratheon. The jet black hair and the clear blue eyes. How Cersei's goons didn’t find him was beyond me. “You sure are a Barathron. Just a little leaner, but I’m sure with a little work you’ll beef up.”

“I’ve got muscles.” He argued.

“Are you sure?”

He flexed his arm at his side to show me his muscles. They were there, but considering that Baratheon men were built like brick walls, it was nothing.

“That?” I shook my head. “I’ve seen little girls with bigger biceps than that.”

He glared at me, hot headed. “What do you know about muscles? You sit on Dragon all day.”

“No I don’t actually, it’s very uncomfortable to do that. But I can show you mine, they’re very impressive. Even the Dothraki are impressed.”

Gendry looked like he was about to blow a fuse and I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. Quickly, he caught on to what I was doing.

“You’re messing with me.” He huffed.

“Guilty.” I grinned. “I couldn’t help it.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d be so.. friendly.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“Well, considering our alliances.”

“To Jon?”

“No. My father.”

“You’re fathers actions aren’t yours, I have no reason to hold any hostility towards you. Anyhow, it’s late and we have a long journey ahead of us. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, M'lady.”

I turned back and headed for my own room, pleased with the progress I’d made with the young Baratheon. Originally, in the future and after the whole Burning of Kings Landing, Gendry takes the Stormlands as its next Lord. He grows into a formidable man and becomes a fair and just man while bettering the lives of the people in his domain.

If Daenerys takes the throne this time, he’d be a good person to have around as an ally. Not only do the Baratheons have a long history with the Targaryens, having them close would also show that we’d put a collar on the house that led a rebellion against the Targaryens.

–––

Viserion screeches above head, fire erupting out of his mouth and raining onto the army of White Walkers, turning them into ash. The fire melts the frozen lake causing the charging Wights to fall and drown in the freezing lake water. Up on a hill, a White Walker calmly unsheathes a spear made of ice from his undead mount and hands it to the Night King who strides forward.

The men on the snowy ground continued to fight off the undead as Viserion circled above, looking for a place to land and let everyone climb aboard him. The Night King approaches the edge of the hill, an unsettling calm to him and readies the spear in his undead hands, his eyes trailing Viserion.

With a swift throw, the spear cuts through the air and pierces through the green and gold scaled dragon, a flame erupting where the spear hits him. A pained screech rips through the air and everyone goes to cover their ears. Blood pours out as the dragon falls to his death, crashing into the frozen lake. The ice shatters and the dragon sinks down to the bottom of the frozen lake, lifeless.

Everything goes eerily silent and the Night King mounts his horse and trots down to the lake while the wights labored together, a few jumping into the lake with large metal chains. They work hard to wrap the chains around the dead dragon's neck. The rest of the White Walkers pulled the chains, slowly dragging the dragon up. The ice breaks as Viserion’s head is pulled up. The undead continue to pull until the lifeless dragon is completely out of the water and clear the way for the Night King. He approaches his corpse, his glowing blue eyes locked onto Viserion’s form. Wordlessly, he reaches forwards and touches the dragon's head and Viserion’s eyes snap open, icy blue as a White Walker.

My eyes snap open, my body covered in a cold sweat. My chests heaved, my lungs screaming for air. I could hear my heartbeat loud in my ears as I pulled the sheets back and out of bed. My throat felt dry and I staggered to the table in the middle of the room, pouring myself a glass of water, downing it in seconds. I took a moment to myself, letting my pounding heartbeat slow down and for the room to stop spinning. My hands trembled as I set the glass back down and I sighed, walking over to the window.

All these days on the sea must have started to finally take a toll on me.

I glanced up to the stars and moon shining bright. Even with the window in between, I could still feel the chilly air of the night, the smell of the sea lingering in the air. I let my eyes travel down from the stars and to the horizon..

Out in the distance I could see land and the edge of the seven hundred foot wall of ice.

––

After nearly a week of sailing up through the Narrow Sea we’d docked on the beach of Eastwatch in the early hours of the day, just as the sun rose. Everyone disembarked the ship, and I couldn’t be anymore grateful that I was finally on the ground. Everyone collected their things, as I looked up at the old castle on top of a large rocky hill.

We were dressed in thick furs and multiple layers as much as we could be. I wore a black long sleeve wool dress with a thick outer cloak. A leather belt with a circular clasp with the Targaryen sigil was hung around my hips, my sword at my side and a heavy black furred cloak with a hood was on my shoulders. My forearms were wrapped in leather for added protection and to secure the thick black gloves.

I shuddered out a breath, watching it come out as fog and dissipate into the cold air. We trekked up the stone steps and into the castle. The men of the Night's Watch glanced at me warily wondering what a woman, nonetheless a silver haired woman, was doing at the Wall.

We entered the great hall, where a group of men were already there waiting. A tall wildling man stood by the fire, watching as we entered. He wore mostly furs, a leather belt hanging around his waist, and had wild ginger hair and overgrown beard.

“Crow!” He grinned happily. His voice easily bounced off of the walls and he opened his arms wide open, giving Jon a large bear hug. He shakes hands with Ser Davos and turns his attention towards the rest of us. His eyes land on me.

“You’ve brought the dragon queen?” He sounded impressed, glancing at me. “She’s small.”

“Wrong person.” I said.

“This is Y/n Vellarys, Queen Daenerys’ trust advisor, she’s here to help us.” Jon said.

“Advisors? We need warriors, Crow, not advice.”

“Tormund-”

“I can assure you I’m here to fight.” I said. “And if it’s any comfort, I’ve brought a dragon.”

Tormund pauses and turns to Jon. “I like her.”

Jon shakes his head and moves everyone to sit at one of the tables. We reiterated the plan to Tormund, who seemed to be listening quite intently.

Once done he turned to Ser Davos. “Isn’t it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?”

I stifled a laugh, completely taken aback.

Davos sighs, “I’ve been failing at that job as of late.”

“How many queens are there now?”

“Two,” Jon replied.

“And you need to convince the one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?”

I silently laughed at how he remembered Daenerys and Cersei. Jorah, besides me, smiles my way, very amused himself.

“Both.” Jon replied.

“Well, the one with the dragons believes you.” I corrected. “It’s the one who fucks her brother we have to convice.”

Tormund nods. “How many men did you bring?”

Jon glanced around the table. “Not enough.”

“The big women?” Tormund asks, expectantly.

Jon smiles, but shakes his head to Tormund's disappointment.

“We were hoping some of your men could help.” Jorah says.

“Why? You have a dragon. She said so.” He points to me.

“I did, but it’s a big risk. If the Night King see’s him, he’ll come charging towards us with his army. We can only use the dragon when necessary, otherwise none of us make it out alive.” I explained.

“I’ll be staying behind.” Davos says. “I’m a liability out there as you well know.”

Tormund nodded, “you are.” He turned to Jon. “You really want to go out there again?”

Jon nods, sure of himself.

“You're not the only ones.”

––

We were led down, deep beneath the castle into its underground dungeons. Tormund led us down the rows of cells. “My scouts found them a mile south of the wall. Said they were on their way here.”

He stopped in front of a cell and we all peered in, spotting three men. Two stood out to me, one with the eye patch and the other with a burn scar on the side of his face. They looked familiar, reminding me of the description of a small group of men that traveled with Jon and his men Beyond the Wall.

“You're the Brotherhood Without Banners.” I realized, raising my brows.

Jon gazed over to the man with the scars. “You’re the Hound. I saw you once at Winterfell.”

The Hound, Sandor Clegane, pulls a blanket tight around himself, shielding himself from the cold, and sits up from the table he was laying on.

“They want to go beyond the wall too.” Tormund said.

“We don't want to go beyond the wall, we have to.” The one with the eyepatch says. “Our lord told us the great war is coming.”

Gendry shakes his head. “Don’t trust them. Don’t trust any of them.” Everyone turns to him as he walks up and presses his face to the bars of the cell, glaring at the three in the cell. “The last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a Red Witch to be murdered.”

Melisandre. She must have a thing for Baratheons. First Stannis then his nephew.

“Thoros?” Jorah finally spoke, stepping closer to get a better look at the man he’d been staring at for the last minute. One of the men, Thoros, sits up from a dark corner and glances at Jorah. “I hardly recognize you,” Jorah says to him.

“Ser Jorah Mormont.” The man recalled, a mix of relief and surprise in his voice. Tormund turns and angrily looks at Jorah.

“They won’t give me anything to drink down here. I haven’t been feeling like myself.” Thoros says.

Jorah didn’t have the opportunity to respond as Tormund finally piped up. “You’re a fucking Mormont? Like the last Lord Commander?”

“He was my father.” Jorah nods, a slight edge to his voice.

“He hunted us like animals.”

“You returned the favor, as I recall.” Jorah quipped back.

“Here we all are at the edge of the world at the same moment heading in the same direction for the same reason.” The man with the eyepatch interrupted.

“Our reasons aren’t your reasons.” Davos quickly adds.

“It doesn’t matter what we think our reasons are.” The man stood up and walked towards the bars of the cell. “There's a greater purpose at work and we serve it together whether we know it or not. We may take the steps but the Lord of Light-”

The man's preaching is interrupted by an annoyed Hound. “For fucks sake, will you shut your hole.” He turns to look at Jon and cuts straight to the point. “Are we coming with you or not?”

“Don’t you want to know what we’re doing?” Jorah asks.

“Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell waiting to die?” Thoros said.

Jon glanced at me, debating. I subtly nodded, agreeing with him. “He’s right.” I said aloud. “We’re all on the same side.”

Gendry frowned. “How can we be?”

“We’re all breathing.” Jon replied.

Tormund hands the keys to the cell to Jon and he opens the doors, letting the men out. The four of them step out, stretching their limbs and grunted in satisfaction. They were escorted up to the castle courtyard where some of the Night's Watch men were preparing the new Dragonglass weapons. Jon and Tormund led them to the main hall to warm them up and feed them while the others dispersed around the castle. I stood off to the side, watching everyone work, and leaned around the stone baluster.

I took a moment to myself and thought back to the dream I’d had the night before. At first I chalked it up to my imagination going loose. It made sense, after all, all the stress of the past few weeks could make anyone have the most imaginative dreams. But this wasn’t that; it was too clear, too vivid to just be a dream. There was the other possibility of it being a dragon dream, but I’d brushed that off just as soon as I’d thought it. If I was a dreamer, and that was a big if, there would have been signs and patterns, but there weren’t.

Which only meant the dream was one thing; a warning.

From who? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the Gods, or maybe it’s my subconscious warning me what would happen if I let Viserion wander too far, leading to the Night King claim him for himself and shift the tides of this war for a second time.

Regardless, one thing was clear; the Night King can not get his hands on Viserion. If he does, we run the risk of going down the same path that’s written in history books.

A hand reached out to grasp my left shoulder. “M’lady?”

I snapped my head to the left to a confused Gendry. He slightly fornwed and gave me a once over to see if I was hurt.

“Are you alright? I’d been calling you for a moment, but you didn’t respond.”

“What? No, I’m fine.” I shake my head, straightening my back. “Sorry, I was just thinking. What’s going on?”

“His Grace has summoned everyone to the map room so we can all further discuss our plan.”

“Alright, lead the way.”

He gives me one last glance before turning to the left and silently leading me to where the others were. He held the thick wooden door open for me and I gave him a silent thanks. The inside of the room looked damp and dreary, the candlelight adding to its ambiance. Everyone stood around an old wooden table with a map of the wall and whatever was known north of the wall. I stood in between Jon and Davos. Tormund stood on Jon’s left with a few Wilding men besides him. Jorah and the Brotherhood stood besides Davos. Gendry closes the door behind him and comes around to stand in between the Hound and the Wildling men.

“Last we saw the Night King was at Hardhome where he laid waste to Mance Rayder's camp.” Jon drops a stone marker at Storrold’s Point. “It’s best to assume that they’ve traveled down the peninsula and are roaming through the Haunted Forest.”

“We should travel around the edge of the forest perimeter,” I ran my finger down the edge of the treeline. “We have a better chance at catching anything by this route. Besides, If we go any deeper into the forest then extraction will be too difficult.”

Tormund reached over and poked around the map. “This is the best path we can take, then. It’s clear, we’ll have the high ground, and it's by the forest.”

“How do we catch one?” Gendry asks.

“We have to gag it for starters,” I explained. “If it screams it can alert the others and then we’ll be fucked.”

Jon nods, “we can tie it with chains and toss him into a crate that one of us can carry on our back.”

There’s a few grunts of agreement around the table and the conversation shifts to supplies and to what we’ll take. We planned enough for at least a week's ration and planned ahead where we’d spend the night if needed. By the time we’d finished our planning, night had fallen and I had opted to retire to my room for the night with my dinner.

After an early morning breakfast everyone was ready to leave. We made our way down to the ranger gates that led into the true North. I had my sword fastened to my side as well as a new Dragonglass dagger. I looked at the raiding party made up of Jon and I, Tormund, Gendry, Jorah, Thoros, Sandor, Beric, and a small group of Wildling scouts. The gates open to the true north, a blizzard raging over the tundra. Jon looks back, glancing at everyone. We hold each other's gaze for a brief moment before he nods and he begins to march into the wild.

––

We marched in the blizzard for what felt like hours, my face feeling as if it was covered in a layer of ice. We trekked through a frozen valley of jagged rocks at the base of a steep snow covered mountain. Everyone carefully climbed up, making sure each step was planted firmly. I let out a labored breath after a difficult step.

“Are you all right?” Jon asks me.

I nodded, “nothing I can’t handle.”

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Why did you leave Viserion behind?”

“Historically, dragons have never done well this far north. There have been plenty of times when rides have tried to bring their dragons north of the wall, but they’ve all refused.”

“And you think Viserion won’t come north?”

I shake my head. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again. “No, I just don’t want to expose him too much to whatever is up north. He may be my dragon, but he’s Daenerys’ son and the last thing I want to do is go back to Dragonstone and tell her her son is dead.”

Jon only nods, understanding.

“Ever been north before?” Tormund suddenly asks, leaning down towards me.

I had, plenty of time at ski resorts and winter camping trips. I’d even traveled beyond the Wall to the Fist of the First men and other places. It wasn’t as restricted as it was nowadays, but still a desolate tundra if you stray too far north.

“No.” I replied.

“Beautiful, eh?” Tormund smiles. “I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit.”

“You’ve never been down south.” Jon corrects him from my right.

Tormund scoffs and plainly states, “I’ve been to Winterfell.” Jon huffed, shaking his head.

We continued up north and climbed a steep mountain. The view at the top was breathtaking, quite literally due to the high altitude. The snow sparkles and glistens in the sunlight almost blinding me. A few trees were scattered about and some lakes had frozen over, a thick layer of ice and snow on the top. Off into the distance you could see the treeline of the forest.

“How do you live up here?” I asked Tormund.

“More importantly, how do you stop your balls from freezing over?” Gendry asks from behind us.

“You have to keep moving. That’s the secret.” Tormund says. “Walking is good, fighting is better, fucking is best.”

“There's not a woman within 100 miles of here.” Jon comments.

Tormund turned to Jon and then back to Gendry and I. “We have to make due with what we’ve got.” He hints. Gendry, surprised and slightly weirded out, backs off. I shake my head, realizing that Tormund was mostly joking, or at least I think he was.

Tormund turned back at Jon. “This one is maybe not so smart.”

“Davos says he is a strong fighter.”

“Good,” the Wildling nods. “That’s more important than being smart. Smart people don’t come up here looking for the dead. So, you met this Dragon Queen, huh? And?”

“She’ll only fight beside us if I bend the knee.”

"You spent too much time with the free folk and now you don't like kneeling.” Tormund says. “Mance Rayder was a great man, a proud man. The king beyond the wall never bent the knee. How many of his people died for his pride?”

Jon doesn’t respond, only nodding and thought over Tormunds words. I didn’t say a word and just glanced between the two. It seemed that if I couldn’t get Jon to agree to bending the knee then I may be able to use Tormund in some way. A gust of wind blew past us causing me to shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself. Despite the thick clothes and multiple layers I was wearing, the cold still found a way to seep through. No doubt if I was flying with Viserion I’d be warm.

“So you have a dragon?” Tormund asks out of the blue.

“I do.”

“How? You're small and dragons are supposed to be big. If I were a dragon I’d want someone big, not small.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t pick him, he picked me.”

“Dragons can pick?”

“They can. The dragons get to decide who they want to bond with. If they want you, they make it known, and if they don't then they really make it known.”

“How long do you bond?”

“Until either the dragon or I die.”

“Is yours big?”

“It is. It’s also the eldest of the three dragons that Daenerys has.”

“You said that the dragon is yours.”

“Yes, I’ve bonded with it, but ultimately, he’s Daenerys’ son.”

“She gave birth to dragons?” He asks with a mixture of confusion and interest.

“No, it’s like a figure of speech. She had three dragon eggs turned to stone. When her husband died she took them and sat with them in the funeral pyre. When the fire died down the eggs had hatched and she was called ‘Mother of Dragons’ because she brought stone eggs back to life. I may have bonded with one of her dragons, but he still listens to her and protects her with his brothers.”

“Like a son?”

“Like a son.”

He stays silent for a while, but speaks up again.

“I want a dragon.”

––

We continued walking for a few more hours, taking breaks whenever necessary for either food or water. The trek was getting a bit easier now that the terrain was starting to level out. I'd migrated somewhere behind the pack, wanting to go at a more steady pace and a clear path so that snow wouldn’t clog my shoes again.

“You seem to be taking this journey well, My Lady.” Joarh says, stepping in line with me.

“I’m trying. The most walking I do is around the castle.”

He stays silent for a moment. “How did you manage to serve Her Grace?”

Well, I was brought back in time and bent the knee and pledged to get her the throne with my knowledge of future events.

“I bent the knee.” I say. “And swore to get her the Iron Throne. The rest was up to her.”

“That’s it?”

“Well I guess it also helped that my ancestor was Gaemon the Glorious’ mother.”

“What?”

I nod, reaching into my neckline and fishing out my necklace. It sparkled in the sunlight as I held it up. “Vellarys of Old Valyria, but we’re currently in Volantis, y’know after the whole doom thing.”

Seemingly satisfied (for now), Jorah nods and the conversation ends there. The raid party comes to a halt and Sandor looks off to the distance. There's a steep mountain that looks like it climbed up into the clouds.

“That’s what I saw in the fire.” He points to the mountain. “A mountain like an arrowhead.”

“Are you sure?” Thoros asks.

Sandor nods, “we’re getting close.”

Everyone starts walking again, now towards the base of the mountain. The weather had significantly worsened over the hours, snow blowing past us, making it hard to see past a few feet ahead.

The wind blew around us, wailing in our ears and the clouds covered the sky giving everything a muddled blue haze. A wildling scout was sent ahead to lead the way, armed with a spear. Jon, Tormund, and I were at the front of the group when Tormund saw the scout’s feet flatter. He places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, his other hand motioning everyone behind him to stop marching.

“Look!”

We all tried to look through the whirling snow, squinting our eyes. Up ahead, a shadowy figure emerged. It was hard to make out what it was.

“A bear,” Sandor realizes.

“Big fucker,” Tormund comments.

“Do bears have blue eyes?” Gendry asks wearily. Everyone looked further at the bear, now seeing its glowing blue eyes.

“No.” I replied aloud.

The bear begins to charge towards us and the terrified scout who began running back towards the rest of the group. Everyone draws their swords, holding it out in front of themselves, ready. Despite the scout's best, the bear lunges forwards and catches the scout and tackles him towards the ground and into the snow. Everyone runs to where the bear had dragged the scout, only to find a patch of bloody snow and his spear. A bear grunts in the distance and everyone searches for it, turning their backs towards each other in a tight circle.

The wind howls and the snow makes visibility almost impossible, but everyone keeps their position, eyes alert for the bear. I stood in between Jorah and Tormund, watching ahead when a bear screams and leaps from the snow behind us, tearing into another scout with its teeth. Tormund lunges forward to attack but the bear knocks him aside. Sandor runs to check on him while Beric and Thoros ignite their swords and advance to the bear. The bear mulls another scout, throwing his corpse aside with a gruntled roar. Beric dodges the corpse and plunges his flaming sword into the bear, who catches fire. The flaming bear roars and moves erratically and locks his eyes on Sandor who hesitates, his steps flattering.

The bear launches towards him but Thoros throws himself in between the two and the bear jumps on top of him trying to eat his face. Thoros braces his flaming sword in the bear's mouth, using all his strength to push the bear back. Out of nowhere, Tormund swings his axe into the bear, only for him to be thrown aside, again. Taking it as an opening, I lunged and drove my dragonglass dagger into the bear’s neck, finally killing it.

The bear falls onto Thoros and Jorah and Beric pull it away and help Thoros onto his feet. Beric extinguishes his sword in the snow and I turn to where Jon and Tormund stood by the dead scout, looking down and following the bear's paw prints with their eyes.

“We’re getting close.” Jon said.

a/n: happy new year to you all!! i hope this year is a thousand times better than the last for all of you :) tbh i had planned for this part to come out on the first, but then i remembered who i was and decided to wait a bit.

hopefully, you all enjoy this chapter. lmk your thoughts on the dynamic between the MC and a certain ginger haired wildling man ;)

ALSO, i with bad news. i will be gone for all of febuary to the first week of march. i will be traveling out of the country (usa) and won't be able to update. so to make sure you're all fed, i'll be uploading another chapter before i leave and when i'm back in march i'll give you two more again.

i was thinking that while i was gone why don't you guy leave me any questions? sorta like a Q&A for this series. you can send them as asks or through my dm's or comment them, idc, i'll do it if you guys want.

anyways, happy new years, and enjoy the chapter :)

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