The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

8.05

Samwell Tarly stares at Bran from across that courtyard in the early evening hour, making out little of the man's wheeled chair what with the lacking light in the winter storms. The wind this night is brisk, and it pricks at Sam's eyes as it never had done before, like a reminder of the tears that are moving down his face in a silent pattern of whimpers and blinks that wrack his body—only from moments hence...from within that library.

Daenerys Targaryen is truly the daughter of the Mad King...At first, Sam had felt inclined to give her a chance, to see her as his new queen given Jon's loyalty to her. But with the letter...that was dashed out the window.

It had been Gabrielle to letter him in the aftermath of the battle—that which took place outside the gates of King's Landing and that which saw not the death of his father and brother. No, it was not the battle itself that took them—but Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen. And Gabrielle believed part of it had been her fault—to support such a decision in the aftermath of killing men forced into a corner. But Sam knew—and so did Gabrielle—that this decision was made by one woman alone, and that was not the Mock Queen.

And perhaps that is why this tyrant's actions—apologies, she would say—felt like nothing to him. If she was truly sorry, maybe she would have cared enough to think about the family his father and brother left behind. Sam knew his mother and sister were safe—Gabrielle had made sure for him—but that was not the matter of his anger. It was the inherent blindness of this woman beside fire and blood conquests that made him worry...and cry as he walks away from the library. Sure, he respects Lord Jorah—but Daenerys Targaryen has little mercy and not much more heart.

But in that look from Bran, Sam knows his night is only just beginning.  Gesturing down the stairs to the crypt,  Sam supposes Jon must be lingering, this being the man's area of refuge in a silent war that's marching south. And so, knowing this is not a secret that can be kept any longer—not when the Dragon Queen and Cersei Lannister are the only other options—Sam bravely marches down the stairs and into the crypts of many Stark generations. The wind whistles softly from behind him, blowing through the torch flames but not quite strong enough to silence them.

Recognizing the footsteps as they increase in tempo, Jon looks upwards, turning towards his brother of the Night's Watch with the question, "Sam?"

"I'm sorry," Sam is first to say, looking down as he stops at Jon's feet, wavering in the cold. "I know I'm not supposed to be down here."

But Jon does not care as he suddenly wraps the man in a strong embrace that bodes closer to feeling like family than simple friends. Of course, he wonders when Sam arrived, but it's like a sudden release has been lifted in his heart—like a refuge from the flames surrounding him. So, as Jon pulls away, there is a mix of both relief and confusion as he stares at this brother, not adorned in the clothes of travel, but looking to have been here awhile. So, he has to ask, "Were you hiding from me?"

"Of course not," Sam smiles lightly but not with true emotion, as Jon notices sadness in Sam's eye.

Jon pries, wondering the cause, "What are you doing in Winterfell? Or did you read every book in the Citadel already? What's wrong? Gilly? Is she all right?"

"She's good," Sam smiles a bit more at the mention of the woman he loves and the obvious care Jon has for him.

"Little Sam?"

But—if Jon knew—would he not first ask after Sam's mother and sister? Of his family...and Sam is struck by the truth that the Dragon Queen is evidently hiding from her supporters, wondering aloud, "Don't you know?"