Pick Up Your Sword, Ser

King's Landing 

Sansa twirled around, her wedding gown pressed against her as she looked in the mirror.

Cersei's mirror, she always thought the late Queen had such a beautiful chamber apart from the one she had shared with her own husband, Robert.

She's dreamed of being married for as long as she remembered, that dream nearly came to that realization when the King came to Winterfell with his family and when she was introduced to Joffrey- A monster.

For a time, she was to wed Loras but that never came to be.

She had achieved that dream when she was forced to marry Lord Tyrion and for a time it was good. He was kind to her, he never took her forcefully and said he would abstain from whores with a vow similar to the Night's Watch.

Then Baelish saved her, more ever, put her in another cage to be given to her cousin Robert Arryn until a better prize presented itself to her 'savior'.

Now... Now she is to be married again, this time to another King.

Daeron said he had to run to the Street of Steel then to the Lion Gate where he will meet the returning forces from the Golden Tooth, said something about greeting and meeting out rewards to the many commanders in the army.

As for her brother and sister, Arya is still sulking about and upset with what appears to be everyone. Jon and Ser Davos seem to be attached to the hip unless Daeron would invite Jon out for a hunt.

"It looks beautiful, Sansa." She turned and smiled at Margaery, her hair now longer and looks like she had before Baelish helped her escape.

"Does it? I think yours was far more elegant- When you had married Joffrey." Margaery disagreed with the expression she had given her in return for her praise, standing on her feet and approaching her.

Being back here for this long, she thought she'd have more nightmares than dream-filled nights. Having her freedom to roam, never fearing if the next dawn will be her last, and keeping Margaery- Her only friend apart from Shae who is gone here in the Red Keep alongside her.

Taking Margery's hand and guiding her to a long bench, she smiled to ask her some questions pertaining to a certain someone.

"So? What about Jon?" Margaery seemed genuinely surprised when she brought her half-brother up, her cheeks becoming beat red.

"I don't know what you mean- " She cut the Tyrell heiress off, tapping into the new-found courage she's discovered since Daeron took her as a companion.

"He's caught your eye, I've seen it." It took a few moments, Margaery settled and let out a sigh. "He's always been a handsome one, he and Robb both had the servant girls turning their heads on more than one occasion" She had ignored it often when she was growing up, finding such games childish, especially on Robb and Theon's part.

"My grandmother would not approve, nor would my own half-brother, Garlan." They both have illegitimate brothers, both lost their own true brothers. "I have married three Kings and survived them all, no doubt I would be nothing but a curse to Lord Jon." She didn't like how Margaery had become so unconfident in herself.

It almost seems like things have reversed in some way between them, Margaery became the caged bird, and she the soon-to-be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Margaery, from what has occurred in the last few years, I have realized that the world is changing. Jon is a good man, my father raised us to be just, kind, and honorable. Speak with him, see what he has to say." She said to her good friend, Margaery pondered her words for a long moment before getting up to leave her chambers.

Getting back up to her feet, she walked over to a window and peeked outside to the rest of the city, thinking about how peaceful it has become compared to how it was during the riots when Joffrey ruled and when Daeron attacked and conquered it.

Looking toward the Lion Gate, she wondered how her betrothed is doing.

Lion Gate

"I think she will like it."

Daeron stated with a smile on his face, Kovarro scoffed and it puzzled him as to why.

He shook his head when his friend spoke about women gaining sons than simple treasures and gems. The King looked at the necklace once more, admiring the details and the engravings put into it by the smiths who crafted it.

At the head of it is a red wolf, made from a ruby he found in King Tommen's old chambers. Runes belonging to the First Men going in circles over the silver chain holding the ruby wolf.

The runes he discovered from the old Maester's chambers and had asked Jon's bearded friend, he hopes Sansa likes it though it matters not to him, its an early wedding gift.

Looking around, he saw some of the smallfolk and the city guards walking about, doing their daily routines till the sun has set.

Jorah and Daario finished their task in finding and collecting the last of the Wildfire, he had originally planned to dispose of the vile liquid but due to the threat towards the North coming into light- And Samwell telling him about the dead's weakness to fire, he stopped that plan and is considering on using it for the battle to come.

Looking down at the pendent for Sansa, he folded cloth around it and put it away on his horse while thinking about the next event on his schedule before they leave to defeat the Night King.

Preparations for the wedding are nearly finished, and the preparations for the war against the White Walkers are being seen to by both Jon and the new Small Council and himself for final decisions on what to do or bring with them.

At present, the forces of the living will number about two hundred thousand men, twenty-thousand horses, thirty elephants, and his dragons. The Golden Company, his Unsullied, the Dornish, Vale, Reach, and the North will unite in force.

He's decided not to call upon any men from the Crownlands, Riverlands, or Westerlands for not the reasons of untrust but because the fighting men they have wouldn't make ten-thousand, and they are far too weary to continue marching and fighting.

Food is already being provisioned by ship and wagon, going North towards Moat Cailin and then to Winterfell.

If he cannot hold back the dead with 200,000 men then those few forces will have to be their last line to stem the tide.

"Your grace, a force has been seen." Ah, Tyrion is returning at last.

Waving his hand, the Lion Gate opened and he pushed his horse forward along with his companions and guardsmen, the road had been cleared before they arrived.

The force became more visible as it came closer, seeing the short man riding towards them with several others- Three in Tyrion's company were concealed with cloaks hiding their faces which concerned him greatly but he shook it aside and dismounted from his horse.

"Welcome back, brother," He smiled and embraced Grey Worm who nodded, stepping back he looked right at Tyrion but kept his smile. "I heard things went well, you, and Grey Worm will be the guests of honor for tonight." He added and Tyrion didn't even change his nervous expression.

Eventually, the Imp did open his mouth to speak. "There is one other thing, your Grace." The Lord of Casterly Rock gestured for the three hooded persons to reveal themselves and when they removed their hoods, he tensed and so did Jorah and Barristan.

Soon enough, Jaime Lannister was surrounded by his Kingsguard, swords drawn and ready.

The North 

Edd Tollett sat down opposite Bran and Meera within the large hall at Castle Black, pondering the things that had happened and what was said.

In all honesty, he doesn't entirely believe that this boy is Jon's brother, nor does he want to trust they were out there and surviving when all others were dying at the hands of the Night King and his army.

But in his eyes he saw it, that same look Jon gave him shortly before he had left the Night's Watch to take back the North for his family and to find soldiers to stop the next Long Night. A cold look, one who seen another side of the world and found it all too dark to not act and stop it.

Edd leaned in, sighing deeply before continuing to speak. "The Night King, have you seen him?" He asked and, he watched Meera look down at Bran, both himself and her waiting for the cripple to answer his question.

Bran nodded, showing his arm which had an ice-cold mark, shaped like a hand had grabbed Bran. "He has thousands now, and I am his key past the Wall, soon he will march upon us." Key? What does he mean by that, Edd second guested his decision in letting the boy through if it actually allowed that monster to be able to pass it. "I need to get to Winterfell, that is where this will be decided... I've seen it." Edd relaxed then stood up and left the hall.

The new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch had to breathe, had to think and after he debated with himself, he turned and ordered for a raven to be sent to Winterfell and inform Jon that his little brother has arrived at Castle Black and has news of the White Walkers and their army of corpses.

Hours after the raven had been sent, Bran requested a wagon and some protection so that he may set off for his home.

Sighing, Edd handed Meera some food to keep them fed on the road. "It's Winter, now. You're going to need it for later, and... " He stopped himself then steeled to continue. "Your family missed you, Jon missed you and nearly sent a thousand men to range for you when he took back the North." Bran turned to look him in the eye, they were cold and uncaring.

"I know. Jon no doubt counts you among his best friends... Goodbye." With that, the wagon and eight other horses left out of the gate, closing, and Edd turned his eyes to preparing the Wall for a siege if Bran is right about the Night King coming.

King's Landing 

Jaime looked around, seeing new faces amongst the old, wearing the white armor he had been forced to discard when he was cast out of the order.

What he recognized as a woman stepped forth, a familiar spear and hateful look in her eyes. "You have nerve to step foot here, Lannister." She said with so much hate that he could feel the emotion. "I'm going to enjoy this, my father and his sister will be satisfied with your death." Ah, Oberyn Martell's daughter, but which one is she? He thought.

Tyrion, Brienne, Pod, and even his brother's mercenary stepped to his side as to protect him.

And the King, he is peering into his eyes and like him, he is feeling anger rise in the form of the deaths of Cersei and his son, Tommen. Yes, the boy wasn't the one behind the massacre that happened in the Riverlands, but the wound still stings to even glance him in the eye.

No doubt the Dragon Boy thinks the same, he had no physical involvement in Elia and her children's death nor the loss of Rhaegar at the Trident but he did kill the Mad King so maybe there is an old score to settle her but he's done killing boys and would rather rejoin his sister, son, and father in the next life.

Suppressing the rage, he turned and found one of the few men that he considered a hero and a core reason he wanted to be the greatest warrior in Westeros.

"It's been a long time, Ser Barristan. It's good to see you still in good form." The old Knight didn't dare utter a response, he took the silent nod and went to do what Tyrion asked him to do. "I've come to surrender myself to your grace, though, I suspect to be burned soon." The boy's face darkened to his dry humor towards the next several moments.

"I'll admit, the thought crossed my mind just now when you revealed yourself, Kingslayer." And there is that damned name, given to him by the court from Robert to Ned Stark. Jaime shook his head, removed Widows Wail from his hip, and threw it at the boy's feet which surprised and confused many, even the one he is staring at right now. "Pick up your sword, Ser," Daeron demanded sharply, his eyes darkening as the sun hid in the sky which shaded them all.

Jaime shook his head, "No." The answer startled Daeron, he cleared his throat to continue. "I won't fight you, or your Kingsguard. I also won't apologize for keeping my oath that I swore when Arthur Dayne made me a Knight." He ended and waited while Daeron fumed and Tyrion begged him silently to shut it.

He might be a killer, but he won't go down in the book of brothers as the man who slew his King for position and power but the truth he concealed as it made things less painful.

"What oaths would that be, Ser Jaime? What oath is more important than protecting your King- " Jorah questioned and it wouldn't be him that would answer, his head and that of others turned to Brienne of Tarth when she stepped forth to defend him.

"The Mad King would have burned down the city if he was allowed to live, his pyromancers had casks of Wildfire placed all over the capital and were determined to follow Aerys's orders." Many were surprised by her words alone, some few including himself knew that the Mad King was that sort of man to do so. "Jaime chose to throw away his reputation and how everyone would see him to save hundreds of thousands of innocent men, women, and children. That oath yields great respect from me, as it should to you all." Daeron looked absolutely shocked, no doubt he never knew the capacity of his father's insanity.

Daeron gripped his sword at its sheath, narrowing his eyes at him. "... Pick your sword, Ser Jaime." Jaime sighed and approached the boy and slowly knelt to pick up Widows Wail, and just as he was going to rise, he heard and felt a sword touch his shoulder and he looked up to see Daeron staring down at him.

Trepidation, worry, and fear trickled down the spine of every man, or woman that was present in seeing Blackfyre being unsheathed and on the shoulder of yet another man.

"What- " He didn't get to finish, as the King began to speak.

"I knew my father was mad, that he would burn others for petty crimes and of false treason and laugh while his victims screamed... I just never wanted to believe he would do that sort of thing to his people. It's not the King I want to be, so, Ser Jaime of the House Lannister. I, Daeron of the House Targaryen, the third of my name and King of Westeros, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms do hereby pardon you from the acts of the past." Standing back, Daeron extended his hand out to his own and he hesitantly did so, still reeling from such kindness and generosity.

He hasn't seen such things since Rhaegar, remembering the Last Dragon speak of changes and such when he returned... Although, he would instead meet an end at the Trident.

"Apologies, but why?" He asked and Daeron stood straight and sheathed his sword, answering him soon after.

"I like to believe in redemption, you can work on this while resuming your duties... As a man of the Kingsguard."