Ashes of Winter: The Stark Revival and the Game of Thrones

Not in chronological order (takes place before and during Jon/Dany's flight to the Wall)

The Eyrie 304 AC.

Anya Waynwood.

Robin "Sweet Robin" Arryn had clearly been too spoiled in his childhood and no amount of discipline would change that fact, especially since he'd become Lord Paramount at such a young age. Littlefinger's influence had somehow been tempered thanks to Yohn Royce, but even the Lord of Runestone couldn't go against his Liege's wishes. They had all tried their best to make the boy see reason when they heard of Daenerys Targaryen taking of the Iron Throne, but Baelish's hold on Robin was too strong and he refused to send a delegation or to bend the knee to the new Queen.

"Uncle Petyr said I should not do anything until he comes back, so I will wait for him." Robin said almost childishly.

"My Lord, you are the Lord Paramount of the Vale. You are the one to make the decisions ultimately, not Lord Baelish. What will happen if Daenerys Targaryen comes here to ask us to swear fealty?" she asked.

"I will tell her I need time to consult my Regent."

"And what if she doesn't want to wait?" she asked politely.

"Then the Knights of the Vale will have to defend me." the boy answered and she struggled not to roll her eyes.

"You sent most of our skilled forces to save your cousin, yet they are still in Winterfell. We will be at a disadvantage. We need them to come back."

"Uncle Petyr said they needed to stay and I trust his judgment."

Anya had sighed and left it at that, not wanting her Liege to grow angry at her insistence. She'd hoped that in time he would have seen reason, but the news they'd received had soon made the situation far worse.

She had welcomed Littlefinger's death with relief and joy. The man was a nuisance and she had the misfortune to underestimate him at a time when she had needed help, which had then resulted in her and her ward owing him a large sum of money that she was not able to repay. Anya felt a weight lift from her shoulder now that Harrold and herself were free from his influence, yet she still had to suffer the consequences of Baelish's overwhelming presence in the Vale.

Robin was out for blood. He had been furious when word got out of his 'uncle' death and even more so to receive the news of the culprit. That Sansa Stark had been the one to end the worm's life was surprising, to say the least. The girl Anya remembered was a fragile little thing who supposedly needed protection at every turn, hence Littlefinger's presence in the North. She wasn't sure if the girl had played them or if she had been honest, but the things she had said in her letter were pretty damning and knowing Littlefinger and his obsession with the Tully women, more than probable.

"She said he had tried to kidnap her and take her against her will, my Lord." she said trying to make the boy see sense.

"Lies! Lies! He was trying to help her and this is how she repays him? Me? After all that we did for her so she could get her stupid castle back?" he shouted back.

"She said that Lord Baelish had confessed to killing Joffrey Waters and that he forced your mother to kill your father so they could be wed…"

"I know my mother was unstable, but she would never kill my father. She's just trying to sully Uncle Petyr's memory because she doesn't want to be blamed. I want the rest of the Knights of the Vale to get ready. We are to march North for Justice, we march to War."

"Against your family? But, my Lord…" she complained to no avail.

"They killed Uncle Petyr when he so graciously helped them! Sansa Stark needs to pay for her crimes and the North does too for being complicit. Call the Maester, we are calling the banners."

"No!" she said emphatically to a shocked look from a boy who had heard the word far too little in his life.

"Did you just say -"

"Yes, I said I will not do it. We are not in a position to go to war, Your Grace. You can petition the new Queen, bend the knee to her and then ask her for retribution if you -" she never got to finish her words as he interrupted her in mid-conversation.

"To hell with this Queen! I was supposed to be King in the North and the Vale and have Sansa married to me. Then we would unite our forces with Uncle Edmure and see how high she would fly from the Moon Door!" Robin said almost gleefully.

So that was the Mockingbird plan, right from the beginning? Have the North bend the knee to Sansa Stark and once they had, then he'd see her married to Robin? Then he'd see the girl dead, she doubted that last bit very much and what worried her was that this idiot who she was to follow, had believed him. Shaking it from her mind, she tried again to make him see sense.

"She has Dragons, my Lord. Going against Daenerys Targaryen would be the worst thing you can have us do."

"I don't care about the Dragon bitch! I want Sansa Stark to pay and I will make her suffer for what she's done!"

Anya turned to look at her son Morton and gave him a little nod so he could handle the situation. Too blinded by his rage, Robin didn't see him coming and gasped as the knight seized both of his arms.

"What are you doing? Unhand me!"

"We are trying to prevent you from making a grave mistake, my Lord. Going after the North for someone like Lord Baelish would be seen badly by most of the Vale."

"This is the right thing to do!"

"No, the right thing is to let Daenerys Targaryen deal with it the way she sees fit. We have to bend the knee to her first and foremost." she said firmly.

"I will not bend the knee if I'm supposed to be king!" Robin asserted.

"No, you are not and I doubt such thinking will gain favor with Daenerys Targaryen either. She will need a strong man to help her rule, and you're far too weak for that." Anya sneered.

"I am your Liege!" he yelled.

"Then you should act like it for once, instead of trying to avenge someone who put you and the Vale in the worst possible position."

"What do you mean?"

"If what Sansa Stark says -" she began only to be interrupted again.

"She is a liar!"

"Why have we received no word of our Knights who had left for the North?" she continued, ignoring the boy's outburst. "Either they are dead, have been taken hostage, or something else is happening that prevents them from sending word or from returning. We do not know anything about what is going on with them or with the North itself, and we need to know where they stand."

"What does it change if -"

"May the Seven give me strength." she said exasperatedly "Do you understand anything about strategy or politics at all?" she asked as she tried to contain her annoyance. "What did your Maester teach you? Did Littlefinger give you any lessons or did he keep you in the dark? By the gods, The Vale is doomed if you cannot even understand that with half of our forces held up North, nobody would take the risk to fight against them in fear of casualties among the prisoners."

"You have no right to talk to me like that." he said as petulant as ever.

"Oh, but I do. You have been a pain in the Vale's arse ever since you have been named Lord Paramount. First, you allowed your mother to make us turn our back on our former allies, on your supposed family and then you let a man with no rights, no status, lead us as he saw fit because you have no backbone. You are not fit to be a Lord, let alone a Lord Paramount, and it is high time to make some changes here."

"I will have your head for that! I will!" Robin threatened, looking at the few people present in the High Hall who, unfortunately for him, were all in agreement with her.

"Look around you, my Lord," she said mockingly. "These men are all people loyal to the Vale, not to you. You never had our best interests at heart, never once thought about anyone else but yourself. No one here will risk his life for someone like you. Morton, do what you must. Our Liege is in need of rest after so much turmoil."

"I am not tired!" the brat yelled as Anya dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

She stared at the other knights, daring them to move as Robin Arryn was led screaming to his room. Some of them looked away, probably conflicted about the whole ordeal, yet Anya was not. She would have arrested him if she could, or thrown him from the Moon Door for all the troubles the brat and his Regent had caused so far, but it would have complicated things with his remaining kin and mayhap the new Queen as well. Though on the last one mayhap not.

Poison would be his fate, a quick and painless death for he was still a boy and Anya was not cruel enough to wish him to suffer. She would send a letter to the Queen and to Robin's family explaining that the shock of learning of Littlefinger's death was too much and that his weak heart failed him. As for his succession, Lord Harrold Hardying was more than ready to do his duty and bend the knee to the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Anya had heard it said that the Queen was a true beauty, just as her mother had been, and she was of an age similar to his as well.

She dared not hope for more than the title of Lord Paramount for Harry, whom she'd raised as Jon Arryn's and then Robin's heir when the worm had survived infancy. Yet once she'd decided what she needed to do, she had then thought long and hard about the Queen's prospects in Westeros. Dorne and the Reach were already sworn to the Targaryen woman and had nothing more to offer her. Not that Daenerys would enjoy being wed to Horror or Slobber Redwyne, who were the best and the worst prospects of the Reach, anyway, no matter who their grandmother was. Edmure Tully was not a great choice either, because of the history between the Targaryens and the Rebels, and his marriage to the Frey girl was still valid to this day.

While she had heard tales of a possible infatuation with the Imp, and rumors that the supposed kinslayer would be her Hand, It had been Olenna Tyrell who had gotten the role, which was a rather smart move considering Tyrion Lannister's reputation. The Stormlands and the Crownlands had no one of value to offer, which left the Vale and the North to be alone in the race to find an interesting and suitable man for the new queen to wed. With Rober off the table and now Harry taking his place, the promise of the Knights of the Vale to defend her interests should she ally with him would sound appealing. Especially in comparison to the rebellious North and their savage boy king. She would have to discuss this with the new Hand when the problem of the Vale's succession would be solved and Harry was officially named Lord Paramount, but the more she thought of it, the more she began to find hope in the idea.

It was the first step in the right direction for the Vale, and she prayed that it would not be the only one she was able to guide it towards in the days to come.

King's Landing 304 AC.

Tyrion.

He'd been forced to agree to accept a weasel as his heir. True Walder had lion's blood in him too on his mother's side, but he was a weasel all the same. Not even knowing just how much his father would have been annoyed by such a thing was enough to remove his own anger at what he'd been forced to agree to. His aunt Genna had made it clear that he would not be welcomed in the West and Lord of Casterly Rock was not as big a prize as it had once been. Still, it was his, what he'd deserved and been owed, and to have the joy of finally getting it to be ruined by thoughts of the heir that had been foisted upon him, well that was not something he'd take lying down.

Nor was the fact that he was not welcome on the Small Council, not now, not in the future, and not ever. It was bad enough they had taken his pin from him and placed it on the withered old cunt's chest, but there was to be no place for him at all. Once again he was being reminded of what he was and what everyone thought of him. Even the drink didn't stop the feelings of hatred and anger that he wished to give into more and more. Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, Olenna Tyrell, Varys, even Ellaria Sand, who while she'd done nothing to him personally and though he'd long gotten over Myrcella's death, had still found a place on his list. A list of names that he wished to see pay for all of the indignities they'd inflicted upon him.

The problem he had, the question he'd thus far found no answer to, was how? How could he make them pay for all they'd done to him? For all that they'd taken from him? What means could he use to get to his end? What tools did he have at his disposal? So far he'd found few answers to those questions and burying himself in the whores at Chataya's or drinking himself to a stupor wasn't helping him any. Not in the search for those answers and not even to allow him to forget what it was that filled him with so much hatred in the first place.

"Will my lion not rise?" the girl said, her blond hair and green eyes no longer looking like the silver and violet he'd imagined them to be when he was deeper into his cups.

Imagining himself laying with the queen had been the one moment of brief respite from how he truly felt that he got. Picturing Daenerys as she took his manhood in her mouth or as she rode on top of him, was almost as pleasurable to him as forcing himself upon her or at least that the mummery of doing so with a whore was. Yet now as he looked down at the girl and watched her hold his shrunken and flaccid manhood in her hands, it was a different queen he saw. One that he had imagined forcing himself upon too, though he'd imagined choking the life out of her when he did so.

"Leave me." he said, reaching for his coin purse and paying the girl, before sitting up on the bed and pouring himself a drink, one that he swallowed quickly.

He shuddered at the thoughts of Cersei, the girl in truth looking far more like his sister than she ever did Daenerys. Though it was the latter who'd taken the place of his sister in his heart. She who he wished to see fall and suffer now far more than he did his sister, though he wished to see her fall too. The laugh he let out was a bitter one, and soon a twisted one as the thoughts ran through his head. Daenerys had replaced Cersei on her walk of shame and he stood at the Red Keep as she fell to her feet in front of him. Jon Snow was being torn to pieces by lions, his wolf's head then placed where his own had once been and his body paraded in front of everyone just as his brother's had been.

They were but wasted thoughts and impossible dreams. The truth of it was that any vengeance he sought could not be so blatant and public. He wasn't in the position to make them suffer so, he wasn't even in the position to make them suffer or pay at all. Yet pay they would. All he had to figure out was how. He rose from the bed and made his way to the privy, relieving himself before getting dressed, and then with his guards, he strolled out from the room and past the whores and Chataya herself. Once outside he turned to speak to Bronn and then cursed himself when he remembered the man was far from here. Tyrion found the first true smile of the day then coming to his face as he thought about what he'd sent him to do.

" You want me to kill who?" Bronn asked as they sat and drank together.

" Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell." he said and Bronn looked at him with doubt in his eyes.

" You'll be paid well, I promised you a keep did I not?"

" And how the fuck are you going to get me a keep?" Bronn snorted.

" I'm not without power." he said, affronted.

" Just not as much as you once had. You're no longer Hand of the Queen, Tyrion, nor are you Warden of the West."

" I'm still Lord of Casterly Rock, still sitting on a mountain of gold." he lied.

" Aye, there's that."

" If we play this right, I'll be Hand once more and I'll see you get whichever keep you wish."

" Highgarden." Bronn said and Tyrion almost choked on his wine.

" You can't be…"

" Highgarden. You want me to kill Snow and face either him or that fucking wolf of his, then Highgarden is my price."

" Highgarden." he said, spitting in his hand and looking at Bronn who didn't do likewise at first "I'll take care of the withered rose." he said and then breathed in relief when Bronn spat in his own hand and shook his.

It was easy enough for Bronn to make his way to the North with the queen's armies. Tyrion not truly listening when he'd told him something about Ellaria's daughter and how she'd almost make the journey worthwhile alone, for he was far too busy picturing Jon Snow's death. How soon he'd know and hear of it was another question he had no answer to. As was how he'd get Bronn what he'd promised him. Though the other question that then brought to mind was one that he very much knew the truth of. Should he fail to do as he'd promised, then Bronn would end him without a moment's hesitation.

As he entered the tavern that he'd taken as his base, the smell of the perfume hit him. Walking up the stairs and to his room, he bid the guards take up their positions and opened the door to find Varys sitting there waiting for him. Just as he had done the last two times that Varys had come to visit him here, Tyrion contemplated calling his guards and giving them the order to end the man's life. He too had betrayed him and had cared not for his fall and he too he'd see pay, but only when it suited him best and so for now at least, the Eunuch could breathe easily.

"What do you want?" he asked with no friendliness in his tone, those days long past.

"To see how you are my lord, to ask why you're still here." Varys said, his eyes looking far too deeply into Tyrion's own and forcing him to turn from him as he moved to the jug of water on his table and poured himself a mug full.

"As well as any deposed Hand can be, Varys, can you not see." he said bitterly, no need for mummery with a man who knew how to be one better than any.

"You know why you lost your pin, Tyrion. Despite my words of advice you continued to speak ill of the queen's soon-to-be husband."

"Speaking ill of bastards loses one's position now does it? What a wonderful new world our glorious queen wishes to create." he said disdainfully.

"Speaking ill of that one does." Varys said and Tyrion took a swallow from his mug to cover up the snarl on his face.

"I shall leave soon enough. Once I've had my fill of wine and whores, then I'll head to my seat." he said as Varys rose to his feet.

"See that it's soon, Tyrion, lest it not be your choice to do so."

He watched as Varys walked from the room, the urge to run after him and stick his knife in the eunuch's back the way he'd done so to him, almost overpowering him. Yet as he had last time and the time before it, he allowed him to leave unmolested. Truth be told there was no advantage in Varys's death for him, not yet, and only when there was would he see the man fall. Sighing as he took his seat and looked around his room for wine that he didn't find, he soon found himself wallowing once more.

There had been a time when he'd considered Varys to be as close to a friend as he had. A confidante and someone he could match wits with, someone that knew his true worth and accepted him for that and that alone. He'd told him that he'd saved the city, that it was he and not his father or the Tyrells, nor his sister who'd done so. That had it not been for him and what he'd done at Blackwater Bay, it would have been Stannis Baratheon who sat the Iron Throne and he, his family, and the Realm itself would suffer greatly because of it.

Reaching for the jug of water, his hands brushed against it and it crashed to the floor. His guards rushed into the room only to be waved away as he watched the water flow across the floorboards. Where the idea came from he knew not, but as he knelt on the floor and wiped up the mess himself, he did so with a smile on his face, it was one that he wore a lot over the next few days.

The mind was a wonderful thing and his own was as sharp as ever. It may have taken him more time than he'd have wished for, but he'd gotten there in the end and now all he needed was a little more time to see it done. As he pictured their ends, saw them as they fell and he rose once again, he began to laugh. Later that night as he spilled his seed once again in the whore, as he looked down at her and saw her silver hair and violet eyes, he laughed. He laughed the laughter of a mad man. It was a laugh that this city had heard many times before and when the thought came to his mind and the whore looked at him in confusion, he couldn't stop the words that came to his mouth had he tried.

"He who laughs last laughs loudest" he said as his laughter rang around the room.

King's Landing, 304 AC.

Olenna Tyrell.

Being in King's Landing was hard for her. The Ghost of Margaery was everywhere in the Red Keep and Olenna struggled to keep her composure when she had to listen to petitions in the Throne Room. She thanked Varys for his foresight when he suggested for them and anything related to her work to take place at the private chamber in the Tower of the Hand. A place that she would still have to make her own and one that didn't hold so many memories of her granddaughter.

Olenna had buried herself into work as soon as she was given the pin, a feat she was still trying to process. Never had it been given to a woman once in its history, and for her to be the first one in this position was as much a burden as it was an honor. The fact that Jon Snow had had a hand in her nomination pulled the scale even more onto the latter.

She hoped he would not be cross with her once he would discover the truth about himself. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she played the game with him as a pawn, for as much as it could be seen as such, it was not her intention at all. She had written a letter to him begging his forgiveness and giving him a little advice of her own, and she prayed it would be enough for him to understand where she stood.

After getting ready for the day, she started it by meeting with Varys in her new solar to review the latest raven they had received, the first one making her sigh with relief.

"Our Queen has arrived safely in White Harbor, as have our forces. She is already traveling to Winterfell with them and will send word as soon as she gets there." she said though she knew that Varys already knew such.

"I can imagine how eager she is to get to Jon Snow's keep…" Varys tittered.

"Well, I would be too if I was in her position." she chuckled.

"I just hope that the new developments in the North will not hinder her excitement." Varys sighed.

"Baelish's death is a good thing." she replied curtly.

"I know, I find it surprising that he'd managed to stay alive this long while in what should have been his enemy's territory. However, the Vale might call for a trial and I doubt they will like the outcome. It might put our Queen in a difficult position."

"I highly doubt that. With the proof we gave her about his treachery and his crimes, it would be a stupid move for any in the Vale to defend him." she said looking to the eunuch.

"Robin Arryn is not known to be the smartest, my Lady."

"If he values his position, he will shut his trap." she retorted, seizing another parchment. "The Riverlords have left Seagard and are traveling to Sea Dragon Point to join the rest of our forces."

"Good. Lord Devan has left and is on his way. The West is happy with our choice of Warden, they do however show much discontent with the new Lord of Casterly Rock."

"It was bound to happen. I am glad that the queen listened to at least some of our advice, as having Tyrion Lannister too close would have made her disliked by a lot of people."

"I do not like him still being around." Varys added. "A wounded lion is the most dangerous of them all. Look at what he did when he was close to losing his head. Rather than fleeing quietly, he opted to kill Tywin and make a statement."

"I know. We should watch him carefully."

"I never stopped watching him, my Lady." Varys said with the mischievous tone she had grown to enjoy.

"Should we encourage him to leave?" she asked curiously.

"I have already let him know that he has overstayed his welcome. A pity, truly, that he chose the wrong path. When he doesn't let his emotions get the best of him, he is quite competent." Varys said regretfully.

"Let him show his competent skills at Casterly Rock. By that time Jon and Daenerys will be married and Tyrion will start building his reputation anew. One day he might be useful, but that day is not today."

"Indeed. Besides, there are more pressing matters to take care of other than Tyrion Lannister. My little birds have told me that Archmaester Marwyn is on his way here and eager to bring us more information about the Long Night. Are we sure about him? He is not much appreciated in the Citadel."

"Princess Sarella has vouched for him. She had been his acolyte until recently and believes him to be less of an idiot than the others."

"They still haven't responded to our summons?" Varys asked, frowning when Olenna shook her head. "This is unfortunate. The Queen will not like that."

"And she will be right not to. Hopefully, we can manage to pull their heads out of their arses with Marwyn's help." she said, frowning in turn when Varys didn't respond. "What troubles you?"

"I was wondering if their inaction had something to do with what our guest had previously found."

"You mean the journal the wildling girl gave you?" she asked.

"This girl was Samwell Tarly's companion. He had been tasked to transcribe the journal. What if they know about what was in it?"

"Did the girl say anything about this?"

"She said Samwell didn't mention anything and she didn't know why the book was so important to me. She then said something about stairs and glass windows, but I didn't feel the need to elaborate further."

"Then we shall have to wait until Daenerys and Jon unite to see how they react to it and then act accordingly." she declared and Varys nodded. "How about our… Guest?"

"Still pleading for an audience so he could go back to his City. He was most discomfited when the Queen left and the fact that you keep ignoring his demands makes him desperate." Varys said with another titter.

"Good. We need him to understand how much trouble he has put his superiors in by backing the wrong person." she retorted, annoyed.

"He swore nothing had been decided yet, my Lady. That he was waiting for Cersei to show proof of her good faith and that we caught him off guard by attacking the City."

"Send for him. I think it is high time I have a word with this man who thinks we are idiots of the like he's dealt with before."

Varys nodded and walked swiftly out of the solar, the momentary solitude enough for Olenna to try and control her anger. As soon as she learned that a representative of the Iron Bank of Braavos was in the Red Keep's rooms, she'd understood what it had entailed. She knew from Mace's time as Master of Coin that the Crown owed an immense debt to the bank. Added to what she'd heard from Jon, Stannis too had struck a deal with them in exchange for coin for the Wall and his war against Cersei under the condition that all the debts owed would be paid by him should he win the Iron Throne.

That they had then come to Cersei when they hadn't extended the same courtesy to Daenerys showed clearly who they wanted to support. The Queen's times in Essos would have had a negative aspect on the bankers' affairs, as most of the Masters from Yunkai, Astapor, and Meereen would have lost their income due to the end of slavery. Would that be enough for them to wish to see the Queen fail or would there be an ulterior motive?

As the Hand of the Queen, it was her responsibility to deal with any possible threat to her reign, and she would take great pleasure in seeing the man cower in front of her, more so knowing how Cersei wanted to repay her debt.

"Master Nestoris." she greeted him coldly, not bothering to lift her head from the report she had already read.

"I thank you, Lady Olenna, for receiving me today. There is much to speak about regarding the Crown -"

"Is there? I thought all was in order?" she said, feigning incomprehension.

"Well… No, my Lady. The Crown's debt -" Tycho stuttered.

"What debt? As far as I know, you've reached an agreement with the former Queen regarding her, her husband, and her son's debt. Isn't it why you were here in the first place?"

"Ah, um… We did reach an agreement, but -"

"Then it is settled. We will have no need for your services for the time being. House Tyrell will provide the finances for the Queen's new balance, and we will use this coin to start our work here."

"Queen Cersei has not paid her due, Lady Olenna -"

"And how is it my or the Queen's concern? As far as I know, Cersei Lannister is not dead and Queen Daenerys has won the throne by right of conquest, not succession. She is not responsible for the Lannisters or Baratheon's debt. If you have concerns about the previous debts then you should address them to who you dealt with. You have the means to look for Cersei Lannister do you not?"

"The Iron Bank will not look kindly on -" Tycho began but she didn't let him finish, interrupting him much to his annoyance.

"The Iron Bank should cut their losses and rejoice that we are still willing to work with them in the future. You will not get all of Higharden's gold and valuables as you were hoping to thanks to Cersei sacking my home, but I am willing to give you some of it. Take it and tell your masters that this is all they will get for betting on the wrong person." she said firmly.

"But -"

"Truly, I cannot imagine what you thought backing Cersei against us would benefit you. You knew Queen Daenerys had Dragons. You live in Essos, you heard of what she's done there. You knew she was set on conquering Westeros. I would say it is a shame to see you fail, but you were about to rob me of everything I own, so do not expect pity from me, Nestoris."

"The debt -"

"Is none of Daenerys' concern. And if you plan to threaten her in any way, shape, or form, I pray that you do so carefully and know that doing so will have dire consequences."

"Is that a threat?"

"Oh, far from that, dear Master," she sneered. "I just know of some of the methods you may use to collect your debts. Sending an army of sellswords will not do against the Seven Kingdoms, nor will sending an assassin. You must know as well as I do that all the assassinations attempted on Her Grace in Essos have failed. And I doubt her dragons would stand idle as someone threatens their mother's life. So this time, the Iron Bank will not have its due. Is that all?"

She could see the man's repressed anger at being denied. The fact that she was a woman well versed in politics probably irritated him more since he was used to the Lions' antics. No doubt that Cersei, the whore she that she was, would have tried to sleep with him to get away with more time to pay her debts, but that was not and had never been one of Olenna's methods. Tyrion would have given the man honeyed words full of emptiness but would have then agreed to his terms anyway, bankrupting the realm in the process. Olenna though was a Tyrell, she knew her subject as well as any man playing the game and would tolerate no-nonsense. She would have shown her thorns to the banker for Margaery's sake, and somehow she was starting to feel a kinship with the new rulers of Westeros that would push her to do the same for Daenerys and Jon Snow.

"Have no fear, Master. We know of the importance of the Iron Bank and will continue to foster our relationship. Rest assured that we look forward to prospering with you in the future."

"But you will not pay the Crown's debt, that's your final answer?" he asked angrily.

"We will not, but we will be more than happy to help you find the one who has to repay hers." she answered, smirking at him. "Should you need Her Grace's help, you need only ask."

"I will keep that in mind, Lady Hand. Thank you for your time."

"And I thank you for not making me lose too much of mine."

With a nod to the flustered banker, she watched him leave and sighed loudly. She would need to send word to the Queen and Jon Snow, so they would stay on their guard. She had wanted to expose the attempt on Jon's life, but she couldn't link the Faceless Man sent to end him with the Iron Bank. Cersei would not have enough coin to order his execution and Tycho Nestoris didn't bat a lash when she hinted at assassins.

She hoped she had dealt with him the right way. Olenna wasn't one prone to second-guessing herself, but her trysts with Cersei Lannister taught her not to be overconfident. She had thought she had the upper hand all along and paid dearly for it. She had lost so much. So much that she didn't feel she had a reason for living besides making Cersei pay for what she did to her family. It wasn't until she had met with Jon Snow that she'd realized she had still much to live for. She still had a family to take care of, and the news of her daughter being with child showed her that her legacy wasn't lost yet.

As she dined with her Goodson and granddaughter later that night, she observed Desmera with a proud smile. She was a smart girl, a true beauty with a lot of compassion.

"Have you decided what to do with Dickon Tarly, Grandmother?" Desmera asked when she caught her look her way.

"I haven't. Randyll will die, I will not change my mind on that. Melessa Tarly though has pleaded for her son's life and truly, with the death of her oldest one, I do not think it would be a good thing to see the other die as well."

"I understand he needs to be punished for his crime, but he had followed his father's wishes. I think that sending him back to his family while putting his sister as Lady of Horn Hill will be punishment enough." Desmera said, a contemplative look on her face as she spoke.

"Give his title to his sister, huh?"

"And force her to wed someone you trust, so the Tarly name ceases to exist." Desmera suggested shyly.

"You have someone in mind already, have you?" Olenna asked as her curiosity was piqued.

"Well, I was thinking of Ser Humfrey Hightower or cousin Denys, but more of the latter. I do not know who you have in mind for me, grandmother, but either one of them is a nice choice and would be loyal to you."

"You have thought about marrying already?"

"Of course! Ever since you told me that you wanted me to become the new Lady of Highgarden, I… I hope it was not too presumptuous. I mean, if you have already chosen someone for me, I would -"

"I have to admit that I haven't, dear. I realize now that I have neglected you and your upbringing. I haven't looked for your prospects and I haven't spent much time with you either. I haven't been the best of grandmothers to you and your brothers." Olenna said, showing her regret clearly.

"The fact that you gave me the opportunity of living in Highgarden rather than Hobber is enough for me to know that you think highly of me. I have no doubt that if I had asked you to find me a good husband, you would have done it, grandmother. " Desmera offered reassuringly.

"But I haven't spent much time with you, my dear. Not as much as I did with Margaery. I do not want you to think that I am trying to replace her with you, or that I loved you less."

Desmera reached over and pressed Olenna's hand as she gave her a sad smile.

"There was never a competition between Margaery and me, Grandmother. You were closer, you lived together and I totally understand that the bond between you two was strong, and I have never felt less loved by you or threatened by her position. You always looked out for me and mother, I know this to be true and I know you love me too."

"That I do, child…" Olenna said, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. "So, you would like to wed Ser Humfrey?"

"I would do whatever it takes for the good of my House." her granddaughter answered resolutely.

"And I would like you to be happy. Humfrey is a better prospect than Denys, so if this is what you want, I will talk to Leyton about it."

"You will?"

"Absolutely."

"Thank you, grandmother!" Desmera exclaimed, beaming with joy.

"Do not thank me yet, child. Leyton still has to accept the offer."

"Who would refuse the Queen of Thorns?" her granddaughter countered with a knowing smirk.

She huffed and feigned focusing on her meal, realizing that Desmera was right. She was in a position she had dreamed of for so long. All her life she had wished for her house to grow strong and to share power with a beautiful, fair, and just queen. She had hoped that queen would be Margaery but the Gods had other plans. Olenna wished she would have known about them first. Her family wouldn't have lost that much, but she might not be where she was either. It was hard to think of her position as a blessing given how much she'd lost, but she would make the best of it, for the rest of her family.

Lys 304 AC.

Cersei.

She felt the waves come over her, the feeling of falling as she screamed out his name. The words he whispered in her ear were almost enough to take her over the edge and yet it was the feeling of him as he took her that did so in the end. Feeling his seed dripping down the inside of her leg, she rose from the bed and moved to the large bowl of water, washing herself before she poured them both some wine and made her way back to the bed.

There had been much she'd had to do to keep his interest from waning, things she'd done with no man before and which had she thought too much about them, would have shamed her somewhat. Yet needs must and the last thing she could afford was to get on Euron's wrong side. She'd seen already on this journey what happened when you were unlucky enough to do so and it was not the fate she wished for herself.

Handing him his drink, she lay back down and sipped on her own and then began to engage him in conversation. Unlike most men she'd lain with, Euron always wished to speak after sex, to go over his plans and to have his ego propped up and she'd learned well how to do each of those things. While there was no one on this ship other than the warlocks who could tell her the truth of the man to who her fate was now tied, Euron himself was not shy in speaking of how many women and children he'd given to the sea. A Kinslayer above all kinslayers was who she had made her bed with and it was far better to lie in it with him than find there was no place for you in it.

"Do we have the men, my love?" she asked him as he for once sipped his wine.

"For Meereen, Aye, for Westeros, no." he said and she somehow held the shiver that her body wished to make.

"But you have a plan for Westeros too do you not?" she asked and there was no need to turn to see his smiling face.

"Aye, I do."

What that plan was she knew not, he'd not tell her no matter how many times she asked and she felt that were her name, not Cersei Lannister, then even the things she did for him in the bed-chamber wouldn't be enough for her to be a part of that plan. Her name and her willingness to debase herself were the only reasons she lived still. That and the miscarriage that she had. Euron wished to see what a babe of theirs looked like and so he was doing all he could to put one in her belly. Cersei found herself hoping that his seed would take root soon as there was only so much patience he'd allow himself.

Soon he began to drift off to sleep and she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Though not a full mummery, it was a mummery all the same that she was forced to act out when with him and the danger of slipping was ever-present. Only when he was asleep was that danger ever truly removed and now that he was, her mind began drifting to the things it usually did when it was fully her own once more.

The first of those things was as always the thoughts of ending the man who lay beside her. Of doing so before he did it to her and those thoughts grew each day that she was with him. He was defenseless, the risk to her was almost nothing, and yet just as she had each time she picked up the knife and held it in her hand, this time she placed it back on the table beside their bed. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him and was in no real position to take his life. Without him, she was lost and alone and the vengeance she sought would be far out of her reach. Even despite the incredible wealth that Euron had managed to acquire over the years, her life should he fall was one that would be fraught with uncertainty at best.

His men were untrustworthy and like as not to kill her as to listen to her. She had none of her own and where with other men she could use her body to entice them, these men she felt would simply use and discard her without another thought. So the ship, its bounty, and mayhap even her life would be lost to her should Euron die. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift to the thoughts of vengeance and the suffering that she'd bring those who had taken so much from her and she reveled in the images that came to her head. The Imp tied to the bow of The Silence and gasping for breath as each and every wave flowed over his oversized head. A bastard wolf tied to the mast as pieces of his flesh were cut from him every single day and as for the Dragon Bitch, she'd suffer most of all.

" Give her to the men, let them treat her like the whore she truly is." she said almost gleefully.

" Shall we gag her, my love?"

" No, I wish to hear her scream."

" As my queen commands."

The thoughts were enough for her ardor to rise once more and though he slept, it almost mattered not. Cersei opened her eyes to see her hand had reached out to take his cock in it while her other one moved down between her legs to find the wetness she knew would be there. This time when she closed her eyes it was to the movement of both her hands that she did so. Yet it was not images of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow, or of her Demon Monkey of a brother that she pleased herself to. Nor was it Euron's cock that she held in her hand and who she stroked to hardness.

" Jaime, Jaime, my love. I freed you. I'd never leave you behind, we are two halves of a whole, one heart that beats as one." she cried out as he moved to take her.

" My love, my sister, my queen."

She felt the fall once more, this climax even more powerful than the one that Euron had wrought from her earlier. His seed this time spilled over her hand and when she opened her eyes once more, it was to the disappointed sight of the man who lay next to her and not the man she wished him to be. That he had slept through her ministrations was both annoying to her and very much not. Rising to clean first herself and then him, she soon found herself dressing and making her way to the deck of the ship. The silent freaks that made up Euron's crew all moved from her path as she did so. While he lived they deferred to her as if she was him and would they just do so were he to die, then mayhap she'd give in to the temptation she had to kill him. For now, she was just as trapped as they were, just as much a prisoner as any of them and she only hoped that she'd get the chance to either break free or turn the tables on her jailor.

Later that day as they left Lys behind and sailed further east, she once again let vengeance be her guide. They'd take the city first and soon enough the Dragon Bitch would find out what it felt like to lose what was precious to her. It wouldn't be the last thing she'd take from her before she took her life, not by a long shot and once it was done and she had Jaime beside her and in her bed once more, then she'd be in control of her fate as she was always meant to be. Suffering and pain she'd bring to those who'd forced her to be what she was now, suffering and pain, and soon they'd hear her roar.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Ser Davos.

There was nothing Davos hated more than being caught in a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. To face people he'd rather see dead for crimes they'd committed and yet were still alive because they were needed was almost eating him from the inside. He already knew that life was unfair, that good people were suffering when the bad ones enjoyed their lives as if the others were nothing to them. He had lost his son and the girl he had considered his daughter and people still found excuses as to why those responsible for their deaths could still breathe.

He had been furious to see Melisandre coming back. No matter how many times he was warned of her return, the hatred he felt for the Red Woman was too strong and he couldn't help but feel let down by Jon. Davos had lived up to his promise, he had protected Rickon to the best of his abilities and stood by the King's side while Jon was away. Was it so difficult to return the favor?

Bran's words came to his mind and fuelled his anger. He knew that the boy was trying to sew discord between his family members although he didn't understand the reason for it, and Davos had felt like a pawn in his scheme every time Bran had talked to him. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal nor could he help himself from thinking that he was right.

He had wanted to rage at Jon, but the lad was not himself from the moment he had been back in Winterfell. Davos could tell that something was bothering him and the events following his arrival didn't help. Though he was glad to see the Stark children showing a now truly united front, even if he wouldn't have wished for Sansa Stark to go through such a traumatic event to finally realize she could trust her family. It made him think on his own, of his wife and sons.

He missed them, though. A lot. Every time he stared at Rickon, who was of an age with his youngest, he couldn't help but think of Steffon. He had sent a letter to Marya, after the battle of Blackwater, and had received no response. He took that as a sign that he wouldn't be forgiven for Matthos' death and so he'd never tried to reach out to her again, only praying that they were still in good health. He didn't know if they were still at Cape Wrath or if Marya had taken his advice to leave for Braavos was Stannis was to be defeated, and as much as he wished he knew, he felt that they were better off without him.

"You're frustrated." he heard from behind him and turned away quickly to see Arya Stark facing him.

"I…"

"Rickon told me about what the Red Woman did to Lady Shireen." she said and Davos looked away. "We may not have the same reason to hate her and to want her dead, but I do have her on my list too and I find it difficult to see her breathe and not to do anything."

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