Chapter 27: Death Pays for Life

The Lannisters in Casterly Rock hadn't been enjoying the latest developments of the war, and Tywin was starting to be placed under pressure by certain Lords who were feeling the risks to their homes, namely Lord Sarsfield who had recently learned that Robert Baratheon had taken Sarsfield. Tyrion found himself up in Tywin's solar with wine in his hand staring down at the gathered mass of troops outside of Lannisport in the distance. They had sent 20,000 off the day before under Lord Roland Crakehall to fend off what seemed like Reach forces that had been spotted near Old Oak by Lannister scouts on the border, but they still had roughly 40,000 men ready to march at a moment's notice.

"Has there been any word from Kevan?" Tywin asked the Maester.

Creylen shook his head. "We have had nothing as of yet My Lord. Although he should be nearing Volantis any day now if the winds have been kind."

Tywin pursed his lips but nodded. "That will be all."

Maester Creylen bowed his head and departed the room, leaving Tyrion alone in the room with his brother and Father. "Well." The dwarf said dramatically. "It looks like we're fucked."

"Don't be so sure." Tywin told him coldly. "The Ironborn have entered the fray."

Tyrion turned to his Father with concern on his face. "If we get attacked at sea too…" He began.

"They're not coming here, Tyrion." Jaime added with a smirk. "They're going to the North."

Tyrion blew a loud laugh out of his nose. "You're jesting."

Tywin shook his head. "Balon Greyjoy wants what he's always wanted. A crown that he has taken for himself." The old Lion told him. "All I've done is persuade him that the Crown will not look to take it from him, nor will we take back any lands if he manages to carve out a Kingdom in the North. The man must have accepted."

"He must know that the North won't stand for it." Jaime remarked.

Tywin scoffed. "The North will be dealt with soon enough. Our men are the finest trained in the Seven Kingdoms and we outnumber Robert's forces. As soon as Loras Tyrell is dealt with at Crakehall and you defeat Robert in the field, we will march to King's Landing and take that for Joffrey. All mention of treason and lies will be lost to history, and Lannister's will do as they do best."

"Shit gold?" Tyrion asked. He saw Jaime struggle to hold in a laugh and grinned. Tywin however wasn't too pleased.

"Rule." The Lord of Casterly Rock told him sharply. He turned to Jaime. "The Northmen and Riverlands will soon leave Sarsfield I am sure. Find a spot on the route that you can break them at and lead the rest of our forces."

Jaime bowed his head. "I'll set off at dawn." He promised. "If I may be excused?"

Tywin just nodded, and Jaime left the room. 'No doubt to find Cersei.' Tyrion thought. "It seems as though against all odds you may have beaten the entirety of Westeros." He held out his glass to Tywin in a mock salute. "Involving the Ironborn is impressive, even for one with as many incredible deeds as you have to your name."

"Some battles are won with swords." Tywin explained. "And some with empty promises. Balon Greyjoy can have his crown for now, all that matters is that we keep our heads. Robert was a fool to think he could challenge us."

"That fool still managed to do as no other in history have done and take the Golden Tooth." Tyrion told Tywin.

Tywin scowled, and Tyrion realised that even he had no idea how that happened. "They snuck 10,000 men past the mountains, and I do not like not knowing how they managed that."

Tyrion wanted to laugh at Tywin not knowing something, but the thought worried him as well. As impressive as Tywin's plan was, if Robert Baratheon had a way to walk through Mountains, what else did he have up his oversized sleeves?

It had been an extremely long journey, but finally the Khalasar of Khal Drogo had arrived at Vaes Dothrak. Jon rode beside Jory, behind the two Targaryen's and Jorah Mormont as they passed the giant horse statues and entered the sprawling city of many cultures.

Jon took a moment to take in the view of the city. The buildings were as basic as could be but built in a number of different styles due to the different backgrounds of the slaves who had built them all. In the centre of the city standing out amongst all other buildings was the circular Temple of the Dosh Khaleen, the building that Daenerys would be expected to live out her days once Khal Drogo died.

Jon hadn't listened to Ser Jorah's introduction of the city, but he heard Viserys' complaints about it well enough. "A pile of mud." He said disgustedly. "Mud and shit and twigs, best these savages can do."

"These are my people now." Daenerys told him firmly. "You shouldn't call them savages."

Viserys scowled at her tone. "I'll call them what I like, because they're my people." He countered childishly. "This is my army. Khal Drogo is marching the wrong way with my army."

The eldest Targaryen rode away quickly after his protests, and he had made Daenerys think. She turned to Ser Jorah after a couple of minutes riding and asked. "If my brother was given an army of Dothraki, could you conquer the Seven Kingdom's?"

"No." Jon said quickly, and Daenerys turned around to face him. Jon kicked his horse so it picked up the pace slightly to ride on her left-hand side. "The Dothraki are good, fierce warriors I'm sure, but they seem more likely to be good raiders of the farmlands than able to take castle upon castle."

"They might not need to if King Robert is fool enough to meet them in open battle." Jorah countered. "And he is most definitely fool enough."

"His advisors are not though." Jon responded. "My Father, for all his faults, wouldn't advise that." Dany looked grim at the thought of Ned Stark, and Jon had to be careful to portray the image of his relationship with Ned that he had been giving off since his arrival in Essos. "And in any case, if Robert fell, his brothers would likely gain the loyalty of the majority of the land."

"Not his sons?" Jorah asked.

Jon just smirked. "He has no sons. The Queen had three bastards and passed them off as his own. When I left Westeros the North was preparing for war."

Dany actually laughed in surprise. "Don't tell Viserys that." She told him jovially. "If he knew the Kingdoms were at war while we were riding to Vaes Dothrak he would likely have a fit."

Arya had been awoken in the middle of the night by the loud screaming of Wylla Manderly as her brother's wife had started to give birth to the baby. Luckily she was always up early as it was, and it just meant a few extra hours of practice with the bow.

She had gotten better, even without Torrhen being there to guide her. Cregan Glenmore had been a bit helpful, but even he had to depart Winterfell to go back to Rillwater Crossing due to his Father and older brother marching off to war. That had left her training alone on a morning with the bow, only to be discovered by Rickon and Robin Arryn, with Shaggydog close by as always.

"Arya!" Rickon exclaimed as the sun was still rising and the Winterfell sky still had an orange glow to it. "What are you doing?"

Arya rolled her eyes. "I'm shooting a bow, stupid."

"But you're a girl." Robin Arryn said, confused. "I thought girls didn't do that."

Arya turned to her cousin and glared at him. "Maybe not in the Vale, but in the North we do!" She boasted proudly.

"Sansa doesn't." Rickon noted.

Arya turned back to the target and nocked another arrow. "House Mormont trains all their girls to fight." She told them both. "So when the raiders come during wars they can still fight back." She fired the arrow, and it embedded itself a few inches away from the centre. "And Queen Visenya wielded Dark Sister and she fought in the Conquest!"

"She took an Arryn on a dragon!" Robin exclaimed happily. "Maester Luwin told me about that two days ago."

Rickon looked enthralled. "I want to ride a dragon!" He shouted.

"Don't be stupid. Dragons don't exist anymore." Arya told her younger brother. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Rickon looked at the floor grumpily. "Wylla woke me up. She keeps screaming."

"She sounds like Mother." Robin shuddered. "She thought I was asleep and couldn't hear her, but she screamed sometimes at night too."

Arya felt ill at the implication of what she knew her aunt was doing. "Wylla is giving Robb a child, Rickon. She can't help it being painful." She explained.

The boys took no notice though, and soon enough it was time for their lessons. The boys went off with Septon Chayle for the day as Luwin was busy, and Arya was stuck with Sansa and Septa Mordane sewing. Arya wasn't bothered and intentionally made a mess of her stitching, while Sansa had made the baby a blanket with the Stark direwolf proudly on it.

Lunch came and went, and so did supper before Arya's Mother came down to see her and Sansa. She had been crying, but she had a wide smile on her face.

"Mother?" Sansa asked, concerned.

Cat smiled. "Come, both of you. Come and meet your nephew."

Arya bolted up off her seat, ignoring Septa Mordane's outcry of manners as she walked quickly behind her Mother through the corridors and staircases of Winterfell's Great Keep until they reached Robb's room. Catelyn walked in first with Sansa close behind her, but Arya hang back by the doorway, shutting it gently and staying by the edge of the room.

Wylla was lying on the bed, sweat covered her face and her usually pristine blonde hair was in a mess all over the pillows. In her arms she carried a tiny bundle. "Sansa." Wylla said weakly with a smile. "Arya."

"Are you alright Wylla?" Sansa asked cautiously.

Luwin was the one to answer. "She will be weak for a while as her body recovers, but it was a good, clean birth."

Arya watched as Sansa sat daintily on the edge of the bed staring down into the bundle. "He's beautiful." Sansa whispered.

"Come on Arya." Cat whispered to her, gesturing the younger girl over. "Look, he has your eyes." Arya walked slowly and stood by Cat's side, and she could see the baby's face. His eyes were open, staring up at everyone looking down at him with light grey eyes, similar to Arya's own like her Mother had said. Arya also saw a few tufts of reddish-brown hair.

"Do you want to hold him?" Wylla asked Sansa, who nodded eagerly. The Manderly handed the baby over to Sansa who held him carefully, a tear running down her cheeks.

"He's so little." Arya commented.

Wylla choked out a laugh. "He didn't feel little."

"Does he have a name?" Sansa asked.

Wylla looked up at Cat, who just nodded the once. "I thought I'd name him after the King that gifted my family the Wolf's Den." Wylla explained. "My Grandfather told me countless stories of him and the oath we vowed to House Stark, and I felt it right that the first son born to Stark and Manderly be named after him." She looked at Arya then, a smile on her lips. "Sansa, Arya, meet your nephew. Beron Stark."

Samwell Tarly awoke with a jolt inside a small tent. His initial reaction was to pull the furs covering him tighter to his body to keep out the cold, but soon pushed them to one side as he sat up, his mind racing from everything that had happened. The last thing he remembered was holding his adult son's hand, Lord Jon Tarly of Horn Hill, as the life ebbed out of his old eyes. He had died at the age of 74 before dreaming in his younger body as a man in black feathers, the Three Eyed Raven before Brandon Stark, explained everything to him in some form of vision.

He hadn't believed it after the first vision, seeing his best friend alive again for the first time in almost 30 years as Jon Snow sailed in a ship across the Narrow Sea, but then the scene around Sam had changed into a battle in a forest, just outside a castle on the coast that he had deduced as Crakehall. He saw his Father leading men wielding Heartsbane fall to a stray arrow, and then saw his younger brother look even younger than Sam remembered picking up the sword and fighting on in anger. That was when he realised that the Three Eyed Raven was telling the truth and Sam was in a separate reality.

He groaned as he got to his feet, his stomach rumbling. Frowning, he said to himself. "I'll have to get used to that." He stretched and went to rub his eyes, before realising there was no hair on his upper lip. "Oh no, not this again." He groaned as he touched his old neck beard.

"Sam, are you up?" A voice came from beyond the tent flaps, one that Sam remembered from before. "We'll be arriving at Castle Black within the day if you get a move on now."

"I'm coming, Ser Laswell." He cried out; his voice almost breaking as it did. "Oh dear." He whispered to himself, realising where and when he was. He pulled on his thick cloak and his fur lined boots and sighed to himself. "Right Sam, it's going to be different this time. You don't have Jon or Ghost to protect you." He spoke aloud. "But you killed a White Walker, you killed a Thenn. You survived the Long Night and you survived Daenerys Targaryen screaming at you whilst giving birth. You can do this; you can help the Night's Watch come to realise the coming problem."

"Sam!" Ser Laswell cried out again. "Hurry up!"

"Coming!" He called. He nodded his head once and spoke to himself once more. "You are the shield that guards the realms of men." He said, remembering the vows he had spoken so long ago, back when there was a Night's Watch. With a firm smile, he pushed open the tent flaps and smelled the brisk Northern air once again, determined to do his part.

With all the drama and excitement around Robb having a son, Catelyn Stark had almost forgotten about the problems facing the North for a brief moment. Of course that was to change when a rider bearing the colours of House Stout arrived at Winterfell bearing news of assaults on Moat Cailin.

When she had heard all of the news Cat allowed Sansa to look after the rider and see that he had a bed and warm food as soon as possible, while together with Ser Rodrik, Cat went back to the dungeon cell that housed Theon Greyjoy. Entering the room together and hearing the door lock behind them, Cat stared at the Ironborn prisoner.

His beard was growing, and his hair looked more dishevelled than the vain man would have liked. He still had his own clothes however but seemed to have discarded the black for a grey shirt. "Lady Stark." Theon greeted unhappily.

Cat wondered how to begin, but knew that above all else, Theon was a friend of Robb's. "Lady Wylla has had the child." She told Theon.

He perked up hearing that. "How is she?" He asked. "How's the babe?"

"Well." Cat admitted. "They are both well. They have a healthy son named Beron."

Theon grinned at the news. "That's excellent. Could you pass on my well wishes, please?"

Cat just nodded the once. "But we have had some grave news from Moat Cailin." She told him.

Theon grimaced. "Whatever my family have done… I'm sorry."

"They have done nothing yet." Cat admitted. "It seems all of our silence has paid off. Moat Cailin is currently resisting your Uncle, Victarion, and the keeps up and down the Saltspear are forcing the Ironborn back too. Rillwater Crossing it seems has captured three entire ships, and the acting Lord, Cregan Glenmore, has placed the heads of all the crew members on spikes on the coast to act as warnings." Arya had told Cat that it was exactly like Theon Stark in the Andal invasion, but the thought gave Cat chills and she really didn't want to compare this Theon standing in front of her to a Stark legend.

To his credit, Theon didn't react to the news other than to say. "They were foolish to attack the North."

"They were." Cat agreed.

"Let me send a raven to my uncle." Theon suggested. "Maybe they thought I would go South with Robb or Lord Stark… maybe they don't know I'm here…"

"No." Cat said sternly.

"My Lady, I want to help the North." Theon insisted. "This has been my home for longer than the Iron Islands. Let me prove that."

Cat just looked at Theon questioningly. "Do you know that Lord Stark spoke of you as we were leaving?" Theon shook his head. "He guessed that with the strength of the North below the Neck that your Father may seek revenge. He told me that while he has treated you as nothing short of a son, that you'll end up feeling grand delusions about Balon Greyjoy's affections for you and would do anything to prove yourself a true Iron Islander. He then commanded me to keep you at Winterfell by any means necessary, and that no letters or words of yours be taken to the Ironborn." She noticed how downbeat Theon looked. "I'm sorry, Theon. I truly am."

"I understand." Theon moped. "I thank you, My Lady, for telling me about Beron."

"No matter what else is happening, you are Robb's friend." Cat told him. "If anything else happens I shall let you know myself."

With that Rodrik banged on the door to let the guards know to unlock it, and Cat left Theon alone in his cell to contemplate his own sense of identity.

Settling into Vaes Dothrak was fairly easy, Jon thought. The way of life was completely different than he was used to, but the large number of different ethnic groups within the city itself meant that neither he nor Jory felt like an outsider at all. They spent their days training in the small home the Northmen had been given, browsing both the eastern and western markets of the city, and Jon also accompanied Daenerys whenever she summoned him, keeping her company and also teaching her about Westerosi history although being careful not to go into detail about anything after Summerhall.

Jon also dined with Daenerys regularly. Drogo was usually busy with the other Khal's in the city until it was time to retire to his and Daenerys' home, so she regularly tried to invite the Westerosi men to join her. She hadn't bothered with Viserys for the most part, leaving her brother alone to brood and sulk on his own.

That changed around a week into their stay however, Daenerys had confided in Jon that she felt it had been long enough for him to insult the Dothraki in their own home and had tried to bridge the divide by inviting him to eat with them and also gifting him with Dothraki clothing, which she had laid out on one of the cabinets. The eldest Targaryen was late however, and Jon was seriously hoping for Viserys to stay away so he could feed the direwolf at his feet the share of the food.

They were discussing the Dance of the Dragons, and more importantly the visit of Jacaerys Velaryon to Winterfell to encourage Cregan Stark to join the Blacks in the war. "Rumour has it." Jon was saying. "That the Prince left a clutch of dragon eggs in the Winterfell crypts before he left and married the bastard sister of Lord Cregan in the Godswood after he dishonoured her."

"Tales from a drunken dwarf written down years afterwards, not fact." Jorah commented.

Jon nodded. "Aye, we don't know what truly happened. All I know is that Lord Cregan marched south and ended the Dance, and that if there are dragon eggs underneath Winterfell, we've never found them."

"You went searching?" Daenerys asked.

"Aye." Jon nodded again. "At first I looked with Torrhen, my brother. He was always obsessed with the dragons and Cregan Stark was his hero as a child, so he of course believed all the rumours. Then my sister Arya joined, mainly to run away from her lessons."

"She sounds wilful." Daenerys said with a chuckle. "I'd very much like to meet her."

Jon appreciated the sentiment. "I'd like that, I'm sure she'd like you a lot…"

As soon as he finished the sentence the doors flung open and Viserys came barrelling into the room dragging Daenerys' second handmaid, Doreah, by the hair. "You send this whore to give me commands?" He roared, flinging Doreah to the ground. "I should have sent you back her head!"

Doreah was crying on the floor. "Forgive me Khaleesi, I did as you asked."

Daenerys got up from her seat and stood above Doreah. "Hush now, it's alright." She told the girl. "Irri, take her and leave us." She told the other handmaid, before she turned to Jon. "You both should go too; I need to talk with my brother."

Jon didn't like that, but Jorah nodded and stood up. "Come, Jon."

The grizzled old knight said. Jon stood up, looking once more at Daenerys, who just jerked her head to the door. Feeling defeated, Jon walked out of the room with Jorah, making sure to gesture to Ghost to remain where he was. "That won't end well." Jon commented under his breath as they stopped outside the building.

"As much as you may dislike it, he is her brother." Jorah told Jon. "They were together since the Khaleesi's birth. Lingering feelings remain."

Jon didn't like it, but he nodded with a dramatic sigh, leaning against the mud building. "If he gets an army across the Narrow Sea…"

"He won't." Jorah said confidently. "Khal Drogo isn't cowed by his cries, they will only go to war when their Gods favour it, and their Gods won't favour it until the Khalar vezhven, the gathering of all the Khal's."

"When is that?" Jon asked.

"Not for another year, they tend to happen every three or four." Jorah answered. "Vaes Dothrak is a sacred place for the Dothraki, but it isn't one that 40,000 warriors can afford to stay at for a long period of time. No, the Khalasar will be off soon, raiding villages and possibly a small city until Drogo is summoned back for the Kalar Vehzven, and maybe then they will decide to…"

He stopped as a loud slap was heard through the doorway, followed by the snarling of Ghost and a blood curdling scream. Jon barrelled through the door to see Daenerys on the floor unmoving, Ghost standing between her and a prone Viserys with a dripping red muzzle. That brought his attention to Viserys. The Targaryen male was choking, blood pouring fiercely between both of his hands, which were desperately trying to stop the liquid from pouring out of the mess that was once his throat. He was staring up at the ceiling with horrified pale lilac eyes, before he shuddered thrice more and fell still.

"Ghost what have you done?" Jon asked, mortified. The direwolf of course didn't say anything but turned to Daenerys and nudged her chest with his nose. Jorah had entered the tent a moment after Jon, and immediately noticed the sword on the floor.

"You foolish boy." Jorah muttered, before he rushed over to Daenerys, kneeling down as he pulled her onto her back, so her head was in his lap. Her eyes were glazed over as if she was drugged, and Jon could have sworn the usually violet pupils flashed red for a second.

The Khaleesi groaned, but her eyes looked like they were coming into focus. She looked around at her surroundings. "What…" She whispered, as her eyes caught Jon's own. All Jon could do was stand there gormlessly as Jorah helped Daenerys up.

"Careful Khaleesi." Jorah said as they both got to their feet. "You've had a fall."

Daenerys couldn't help but stare at Jon though, a tear forming in her eye. "Jon… is that really you?" Jon just nodded, but he didn't expect Daenerys to rush towards him and throw her hands around his neck. Bewildered, Jon reached his right arm to return the hug, feeling Daenerys' wet cheeks nuzzle into his collar bone. "It worked… Brynden was right." She whispered so quietly that Jon wasn't sure he heard correctly. He looked over at an equally surprised Jorah, not knowing what else that he could do other than hold Daenerys.