Winter In My Heart | ROBB STARK.

LIII. Stubborn Northerners

"Perhaps not," Tyrion began after a moments hesitation, "Cersei thinks the army of the dead is nothing but a story. What if we prove her wrong?"

"If you're suggesting we give her to the Night King," Robb spoke in a serious tone, "I'd happily escort her."

"Cersei won't come see the dead at my invitation," Jon scoffed.

"So we bring the dead to her," he emphasised, confusing the entirety of the room.

"I thought that's what we were trying to avoid?" Daenerys enquired.

"You don't have to bring the whole army," he continued, eyes wide as he spurned his idea. "Only one soldier."

"I maintain that it would be a lot easier to just kill her," Fianna smirked sarcastically, receiving a nod of agreement from Robb. However their peers did not share their trepidations, and upon a quick glance around the room, they appeared to be even considering it.

"The first White I ever saw was brought to Castle Black from beyond the wall," Jon began, reminiscing as his fingers stroked over the wooden, mapped table.

"Bring one to King's Landing and prove it to Cersei," Tyrion suggested.

"Have you all gone completely mental?" Robb scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "You expect to make Cersei Lannister an ally, the woman who was singlehandedly responsible for thousands of death over the years?"

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Jon explained, receiving an eye roll from Fianna.

"Then you need better friends," she commented, sitting down at the table in the chair beside her.

"This will all be pointless unless Cersei grants us a meeting and doesn't kill us all the second we step foot into the capital," Varys sounded, agreeing with the former King and Queen.

"Count us out," Robb responded after a brief glance with Fianna. "The only way we will march into Kings Landing is if it's to watch her execution."

"She'll listen to Jaime," Tyrion murmured, his eyes cast off in the distance. "And he might listen to me."

Daenerys sighed when he turned his head to look at her, leaving the decision up to the Queen in charge. Briefly, she met Fianna's eyes, and didn't fail to notice the small shake of her head.

The Targaryen was at a crossroads - she could listen to her niece and find another way of stopping this supposed army, or she could listen to Jon and her Hand. Perhaps the majority vote was a better one.

"How would you get into King's Landing?" She asked after a pause, avoiding Fianna's gaze as she knew she would meet a look of disapproval. On cue, Jon and Tyrion looked at Ser Davos.

"I can smuggle you in," he admitted. "But if the Gold Cloaks were to recognise you, I'm warning you - I'm not a fighter."

"But it'll all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men."

"With the Queen's permission, I'll go North and take one," Jorah announced, rather bravely. Fianna had only ever heard the man's name spoken, and never were the words kind. But whatever he did in his past, it was clear his loyalty to the North was a flicker in comparison to his fealty to Daenerys.