Hi! I've never written anything related to Game of Thrones before so it's a challenge for me, the one I'm really enjoying. This is my version of season 8, how I would like to see it. Everything is possible when it comes to this show, so we'll see how accurate my predictions were when the show comes back. There will be 6 chapters, each for an episode of the show, maybe more if the chapters will have to be divided into 2 parts. English isn't my language but I'm trying to write the best I can. Reviews would be very appreciated so feel free to tell me what you think, if you agree with me or not, what are your predictions. This fic helps me survive the hiatus, may it help you as well. Enjoy!
Ready to fight
Yara Greyjoy put her chained legs on the table. Pouring herself some ale, she watched her uncle walking stiffly around the room. If only she had her people there, or at least if she was certain that Euron's people would stand on her side... then she would not hesitate. She would throw herself on her uncle and suffocate him with her own hands or die, trying.
She had to admit that he didn't treat her badly. At least not as bad as the usual prisoners are treated. Her cell was equipped with a bed and several books. She was getting meals at regular hours, sometimes Euron would take her to his chamber, serve ale and boast his power. He talked about how one day he would stand by the queen's side and then nothing could threaten him.
Considering how long her patience may last before she would finally get upset and risk her life, Yara drank the entire content of the mug with one gulp.
Euron's cheerful laughter resounded in the castle as he sat beside her.
"Someone's got thirsty," he said, placing a hand on her leg and taking a sip of beer from the bottle. "You do not have to go back to the cell. If you are a good girl, I will let you stay here. Or you can sail with me."
"To Essos to bring the Golden Company."
"Interesting. Why don't you just kill me?"
"Well, we would miss all the fun."
"I know what's stopping you." Yara leaned towards him. She was neither afraid of death nor anything else that he could do to her. "You're keeping me alive for only one reason. You either want to marry me yourself or to one of your men. House Greyjoy must survive. To do so, descendants are needed."
"I always knew that you're the one with balls and a mind. Your brother hides behind his queen. You should have seen him in King's Landing a week ago."
Yara blinked in surprise and Euron laughed again, this time bitterly.
"Theon is alive?"
"Aye, Yara, this coward is safe and sound. For now, though. Winter has come and with it something more dangerous than dragons or Cersei Lannister. Here on the Iron Islands, we are safe. Perhaps you will like my company eventually."
"I'd rather eat my shit than accept your reign," Yara told him, angry and, at the same time, curious at what was able to scare her uncle.
"You have a hot temper. A true Greyjoy as I can see. I do not wonder why you bent the knee before the queen of fire. She's pretty hot." Euron leaned back on the chair, pulling another sip of beer. "I heard you have a thing for women."
"The cocks got boring," she snorted.
Euron laughed again, but his smile quickly froze at his lips when they heard a battle. The scream of people and the sound of a blade cutting through a human skin appeared not only from behind the door but also outside the castle.
It could have been her chance. Yara threw herself at her uncle, but the chain was restraining her movements. They both rolled to the floor, spilling beer. When Euron hit her face with his fist, she felt warm blood filling her mouth. Still, she clenched her fingers against his neck, spitting blood in his face.
The door opened violently. Yara looked up and gasped when she saw Theon Greyjoy battered and bruised, yet self-confident as never before. Using a moment of inattention, Euron caught her by the hair and hit her head on the edge of the table. The room swirled in front of her eyes as she slumped to the floor.
"Theon, stupid little Theon." Euron stood up, wiping the blood from his face. His voice was full of anger. "You are asking for death. I will be happy to fulfill your request, and then I will let my people, each one of them... I will let them fuck your sister. Only when she will not be able to move anymore, begging for mercy... then I might kill her."
Yara saw only the tangle of bodies as Euron and Theon jumped to each other's throats.
They left the room, fighting, and she heard them as they fell down the stairs. Her hair was wet from the blood, her legs in chains, but she had to be strong. She had to survive. She crawled to the door until she crossed the threshold of the chamber. People were fighting everywhere. Theon hadn't brought many men with him, the fool had come here to die. For her.
Someone grabbed her by the arm and with a single motion of the sword broke the chain. Yara came to the conclusion that it was one of the people who came to save her, but there was no time for questions and thanks. She did not even look in his face. Instead, she picked up the chain and ran down the stairs to find herself near the battle. Euron was sitting on Theon and beating his face so hard that Yara could not be sure if her brother was still breathing.
Euron said he would have killed her only if she begged for mercy. She did not have as much time to lose as he did. She threw the chain over his neck and started choking him. He stopped beating Theon, instead, he tried to break free of her embrace, struggling for breath.
"Good boy," she whispered into his ear.
In the end, he had nothing to fight for. Yara heard the sound of a breaking bone when she broke her uncle's neck. Euron's body fell on Theon. Yara helped her brother drove him off, glad that Theon, though wounded and covered in blood, was still alive.
When they stood up, Theon leaned on her arm, barely able to stay on his own feet.
"You're an idiot, Theon."
"That's how you're thanking me for coming here to rescue you?"
"We're gonna die here anyway."
It turned out, however, that it was not entirely true. With the death of Euron, the fighting ceased. People gathered around them, surprised and confused.
"Euron Greyjoy is dead," Theon said aloud. Looking at him, Yara realized she had regained her true brother. "Yara Greyjoy is the rightful Queen of the Iron Islands. Winter has come, and now more than ever we need a strong leader who will provide us with survival. This is our queen!"
When people, her people cheered for her, Yara breathed a sigh of relief. However, she knew that it was only one battle in the great war.
"Where's the Queen?" She asked her brother.
"Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow headed north."
"I see that I missed a lot. What about the iron throne?"
"The throne must wait. Now the houses must unite to defeat a common enemy." Yara remembered Euron's words and a glimpse of fear in his eyes. "What do you say, sister? What will we do?"
"We have two options. We can stay here like cowards and see how the action unfolds. Or we can gather all the strength and join the queen. Are you a coward, brother?"
Theon straightened up, letting go of her arm, although Yara knew it must have hurt him a lot. He looked at her proudly, filled with strength and hope.
"Not anymore. I'm Theon Greyjoy and I'm ready to fight."
She gave him a lopsided grin as she spoke, "Well then, our fight has just begun."
Sansa was running through the dark hall; her feet bare, her body covered only with a thin nightgown. It was cold, dark and damp. A fear seemed to creep under her skin, affecting all senses. She was afraid to turn around, see what was chasing her.
Suddenly she hit someone, colliding with their chest. They held her by the shoulders to prevent her from falling. Shivering, she raised her head.
"You should have died a long time ago," Joffrey said. Sansa felt his cold breath, his face looking the same as when he was poisoned with wine. A streamlet of foam left his mouth as he spoke. "You should have died with your father."
She wanted to scream, but she could not let out a voice. Feeling his sword passing through her chest, she lost control over her body. The tears streamed down her face, the pain took her breath away, yet she managed to notice that the sword he was holding, the sword that was meant to kill her... it was her father's Ice.
When Sansa looked up again, Joffrey turned into Ramsay, his fingers pressing the hilt. Darkness absorbed the hall, took the sword and Ramsay away, but even in the dark, being alone among the never-ending emptiness, Sansa heard his laughter. And then she heard dogs barking, the sound of a human body being torn and she woke up.
Her room was cold, a fire in the fireplace had long dimmed. Sansa rose slowly to her sitting position, her sweaty hair stuck to her face. Her body was wet and aching, but when she looked at her shirt, she could not see blood there. It had been just a dream.
As if this day did not start badly enough, at breakfast she learned that some news had arrived.
"From Castle Black, Lady Stark," Maester Wolkan told her.
Sansa was staring at a scrap of paper in her hands for a long moment, then finally she dared look at her siblings.
"The Great Wall has fallen," she informed them. "The lord commander of the Night's Watch, Eddison Tollett says that Tormund and a few of his people survived and are now heading to Winterfell. So is the Night King."
"The long night begins," Bran whispered. His voice was cold and calm.
"We must send a raven to Jon," Arya said. "Does anyone know how long it can take him to get here?"
"From what we know, Daenerys Targaryen and King Jon left the Dragonstone a few days ago and are now heading north to White Harbor," Maester Wolkan answered. "I am afraid that it will take more time for the ships to travel than for the army of the dead to reach the Winterfell."
Samwell Tarly got up from the table, wiping his sweaty hands against his robe. Until now, he had never said a word and Sansa had almost forgotten his presence. Now he looked at her.
"If you don't mind, Lady Stark, I would like to say something." When Sansa nodded, Sam continued, "We all expect that White Walkers will attack Winterfell, which is very possible. After all, Winterfell is located alongside the Kingsroad. But before that, the first two castles in their path are Last Heart and Karhold."
"They will fall first. Jon said the same thing when he was here."
"It's a little consolation, but with these attacks, Winterfell will get more time to prepare."
"And the Night King will get more wights," Bran added.
"I don't think they necessarily need more people to join the army. There is something I have not told you yet." Sansa crumpled the paper in her hand. "They have a dragon."
The silence that had reigned in the room overwhelmed them all. Sansa looked at the food, wondering if it was one of her last meals.
"But how?" It was Arya who broke the silence.
"The queen must have lost the dragon during the battle. Jon informed us about the battle, but he did not mention the dragon."
"Now everything becomes logical," Sam said, fear crossing his face. "The White Walkers had waited a long time before they dared to attack. However, when they gained a strong ally in the form of a dragon, they did not wait any longer. In fact, they destroyed the wall immediately. As if-"
"-they knew the dragon would join them," Bran finished.
Sansa felt a sudden fatigue. She could not stay here anymore, a fresh air was what she needed.
"Maester Wolkan," she ordered, "send a raven to Jon. Then inform the lords that I wish to see them this afternoon. The war is coming and we need as many men as possible."
To stop thinking about it for a moment, Sansa got up from the table. For a long time, she was strolling the castle until she stopped at the same place where she had stood with Littlefinger some time ago, watching Arya and Brienne's fight. She remembered how concerned she had been about her sister's behavior, wondering if she would end up as her enemy. At the same time, a real enemy had been standing beside her.
And now he was gone.
Sansa saw Ghost in the courtyard. He had been probably waiting for his master's return. She had been waiting too. She liked being Lady of Winterfell, but she missed Jon. With him, everything was much easier and less scary.
"Nymeria, Lady, Grey Wind, Summer, and Shaggydog should be there as well."
Arya's voice surprised her. Sansa did not hear when she came, though it was the right time for her to get used to it. Arya was now quick as a snake and quiet as a shadow.
"Yes," Sansa admitted when Arya took a step closer. "They should."
The thought of Lady hurt her. It felt as if she scratched the wound that had healed long ago.
"I watched Grey Wind die. He was in a cage so he couldn't escape, he couldn't save Robb." Arya said, her voice was quiet and sad. She stared at Ghost. "Bran told me that Summer had died to save him. What about Shaggydog?"
"Ramsay Bolton killed him before killing Rickon."
"And Lady... I'm sorry, Sansa. It was my fault."
Back then, in her mind, Arya had been the right person to blame. But not now. Sansa looked at her sister and under the mask of an unquestionable warrior, she saw a young girl who asked the king to save Lady's life. The same girl who had to throw stones at Nymeria to drive her away, thus saving her life.
"No." Sansa's voice was gentle but unhesitating. "It was Joffrey's fault."
She considered whether to tell Arya about the dreams she had been having, about the ghosts of her past haunting her in the night.
"I met Nymeria on my way to Winterfell. She has a pack now, you know. I asked her to come with me, to come back home. I guess she has a different home now."
When they both looked at the courtyard, there was no trace of Ghost.
"Thank you. For telling me this. I know that talking about what has happened to you in the past few years is not easy. For me, it is not easy either."
Arya smiled at her and after a moment Sansa did the same. They were standing there for a long time in silence, breathing in the cold air and waiting for what was inevitable.
"Let me guess. Cersei sent you to find me and bring me home."
"Aye, you're right about that."
"For bringing me back, she promised you a castle, gold, and whores."
"Not whores, but a beauty for me to marry."
"She also threatened that you better not come back without me."
Bronn licked his fingers and sipped a large portion of beer. Jaime felt his pouch was much lighter than when he had been leaving King's Landing. One more visit to the inn with Bronn wouldn't end well for Jaime.
Some time ago, he could just say he would pay the next time. After all, the Lannisters always pay their debts. Now the situation was completely different. Jaimie did not want anyone to recognize him. He had been traveling for a few days and rarely had visited any tavernas, afraid that someone would recognize him. He usually lowered his head, kept his false hand under the table, and avoided eye contact with people.
When Bronn sat down in front of him and ordered a large portion of food and beer, Jaime was not even surprised. Although he would not admit it aloud, he was pleased with the accompany of his friend.
"You know her best. I wonder if it's because you're twins or because you fucked her."
"Give up, Bronn," Jaime snapped. "I'm not coming back."
"I know," Bronn admitted, tapping his fingers on the table. "I'm not an idiot. You are, ser Jaime, you are a stubborn idiot. You know that Starks and the dragon queen are not quite fond of you. Why would they be? You killed the Mad King and, as rumors say, you pushed the little Stark out of the tower. I can bet my ass that your head will hang on one of the Winterfell towers before the fight with the dead army begins."
Jaime was angry at Bronn for being right. He often thought of it himself. He knew that the trip to Winterfell would most likely end for him in a tragic way. That he would either get killed by vengeful kids or die in a battle. His only hope in convincing Daenerys Targaryen about his sincerity was Tyrion... and Brienne.
He thought about Brienne a lot. In fact, it was thanks to her that he took the courage to leave Cersei. He had to live to the moment when he would get a chance to thank her.
"Perhaps all you're saying is right." Jaime looked at Bronn. "Nevertheless, I do not intend to return. Cersei is no longer in control of me."
"So I guess I have no choice and I have to go with you. May the Targaryen girl pay me well."
"Are you sure?"
"Man, I cannot go back to the Queen. And even if I could, I cannot sit quietly on my butt and wait until my stupid Lannister friends are killed and then resurrected. Your corpses would come back for me and kill me in my sleep. No way."
Jaime smiled for the first time in weeks, breathing with relief. He was no longer alone.
She slipped her hands into his hair and kissed him firmly, once more that day, allowing his hands to slide slowly over her naked body. If the north had a taste, it tasted like Jon's sweet lips. If the north had a scent, it smelled like Jon when Dany felt him inside of her.
"We've reached White Harbor, your Grace." Tyrion's voice came from behind the door.
Jon brushed back a loose strand of her hair, never taking his eyes off her.
"I believe we should go," she whispered.
And then he kissed her again as if he wanted her to remember his touch in a time when they would have to keep a decent distance between each other.
Shortly after, Ser Wylis, the son of Lord Manderly, took them to the main castle of White Harbor. Everyone took a seat at the long table; both Daenerys' people and those who joined them in King's Landing. When food and drink were served, alarming news came out.
"They have Viserion," Dany said, unable to believe what she had just read. "How is it possible?"
"Somehow they managed to pull him out of the water and then transform into one of them." Jon seemed concerned, but it was not the dragon that caused his anxiety. "I've stood on the Wall repeatedly. I've never thought it would be possible for anyone to destroy it."
"Not anyone, but a dragon," Tyrion stressed.
"How much time has passed since the fall of the Wall?" ser Davos asked.
"Over a week, I'm afraid. Winterfell is preparing for the battle," Jon said. "We must march for Winterfell as soon as we can, your Grace."
"Of course," Dany conceded, "but first we'll stay here for one day to get some rest. Thank you for your hospitality, ser Wylis."
"The pleasure is all mine, your Grace," he bowed to her.
"There is one more thing you can do to help us. The Unsullied are not properly prepared for the winter. Shall you supply my people with appropriate clothes?"
"I'll see what I can do."
Ser Wylis and Grey Worm left the room. After a meal others also left, with her permission, until only Dany and Tyrion stayed in the room.
"Would you mind, your Grace, if I expressed my opinion?"
Tyrion put his legs on the second chair and took a sip of wine. Dany came to the window, from where she had a view of her children.
"Whether I want it or not, you always express your opinion, so feel free."
"Northmen are the people whose trust is hard to gain. I do not think they will look at you favorably when they find out about your romance with their leader."
"I've said it already," Dany drawled. "I'm not heading north to conquer. I'm heading north to save lives. They don't have to trust me, they have to fight by my side."
"To do so, they must be sure that Jon bent the knee because he believed in you, not because he fell in love with you. Love makes you capable of everything."
A note of melancholy crept into his voice. Dany looked at him intently.
"Have you ever been in love?"
"Twice. The first time my lover turned out to be a whore hired by my father. The second woman was also a whore. She testified against me when I was sentenced to death. I killed her while she was lying in my father's bed just before I killed him too."
"Oh," she sighed. "Loves makes you capable of everything, yes. That's why I think Jon's love can actually make me stronger."
"Or be the death of you."
"Enough." She turned back to the window. Her voice was as sharp as a razor. "I respect your opinion, Tyrion. I have named you my Hand not without a reason, but as for my love life, I would rather have your thoughts left for you. You do not want my fire to be the death of you, do you?"
Dany understood his fear. Not only her feelings towards Jon were growing, but also the way of his thinking was slowly affecting her actions. Tyrion feared that Jon could become important enough for her that Tyrion's advice would cease to matter to her.
"What about Viserion?" Dany heard a note of resentment in his voice when he got up from his chair. At least he abandoned Jon's subject. For now. "He is your opponent now. I must know that when the time comes, you will not hesitate. That you will be able to kill your own dragon... your child."
The image of Viserion falling to the cold lake was still in her head. When she closed her eyes, she saw him again. Whirling wings in the air, the spear in his neck. She heard a screech of agony that mingled with his brothers' cries, then the splash of water and her heart broke once more.
He still breathes fire, she thought, but it is blue in color. My children's fire isn't blue.
Not the first time she had found strength in the deepest recesses of her heart. The world had repeatedly tried to destroy her, but it had never succeeded. When she turned to Tyrion, he stepped back as if he saw in her eyes the fire that was flowing in her veins. As if he read from her face not only the pain but also the power caused by it.
"When the time comes, I'll be ready."