The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

9.09

Gabrielle's certainly not daft enough to suppose that she is anything close to safe in the aftermath of the previous day and her recent confrontation with Grey Worm. She has threatened them, lied to them, and betrayed them. And Gabrielle thus supposes that she knows what is coming before it even happens, the others seeming to as well given the darting of their eyes to hers every few moments. But still, Gabrielle has never been one to back down from her convictions—even when wrong—and she marches steadily on through the mess of the Dothraki and the organized lines of the Unsullied, taking the lead as if walking into her trial.

But in those moments as she moves towards an inevitable fate set out from her first meeting with Daenerys, Gabrielle realizes that her march into the Red Keep is like none before. No longer is she the Mock Queen because Cersei is dead. No longer is she Silver Tongue for she has fulfilled that final lie. But she is still a traitor to the sitting ruler—and if there ever was a state in which she persisted, it was the traitorous counterbalance to madness and evil.

Her shining eyes lock on the dark and deadened eyes of Grey Worm staring at her from on the stairs above, the winds howling and singing in her ear like the children hidden away in the streets—singing the songs of the rise and fall and death and destruction that will mark the trials and end of Daenerys Targaryen. Her feet beat steadily to the rhythm of the song, swaying her into a tense yet prepared posture that softens only just as Jon's hand brushes hers—to comfort her. And behind her, Tyrion follows after them—knowing his fate is also that of Gabrielle's as he meets Daenerys's eyes a quick moment before looking away.

Like a clock, the steady rhythm of feet ceases as they rise above the soldiers and to the level of the Queen, Grey Worm, and Robb. Stepping up beside the ladder—deeming that this the safest and most fitting—Gabrielle tries to shy away from the view of the city, not wanting to see the destruction. And yet, she looks up because she needs to see the evils of this woman—to understand what they must overcome—to make peace with what she could not save. And, as expected, the city is but a lone cesspit to what once was architecture, art, society, and people—the wind whistling through the streets as through a woodwind and playing a melody of the destruction left in the wake of the Mad Queen. Never has Gabrielle seen such a horrible sight, and as she gazes to the Dragon Queen off to her left, it leaves a burning need within her to rise from the ashes and give this city the hope they deserve.

Daenerys ignores the lot of them—that much is obvious—as she begins shouting out in Dothraki and then Valyrian as the horselords holler through the winds and the Astapor soldiers thump their spears in command of their Queen. And Daenerys smiles at the ricochet of their excitement, a madness painting her face in a pallor like never before. And while Gabrielle cannot speak either Dothraki or the Targaryen tongue, she has a great sense that Daenerys's speech is not that of simple victory but ongoing battle if only for the conqueror's tone of—agreeing at once with Tyrion that war is far from over. Exchanging a look with Jon and then the dwarf himself, she reassures herself that they all sense it as well, drifting into silence along with the Queen as her voice suddenly halts—and then she turns to Robb.

"Together," she shouts at the crowd—though to whom she speaks, Gabrielle is not sure, "with the Warden of the North, we will take these lands for the Iron Throne."

The Unsullied hit their spears as the Dothraki ululate, but Jon is far from noticing as he stares at Robb in horror for the title he's acquired and the betrayal of his family. Not only has he taken Daenerys's side in genocide, Robb has stolen Sansa's title from beneath her. He wants his brother to look at him—to see the pain he has already inflicted—but just as Robb's face refuses to look to his own, Daenerys Targaryen turns to Tyrion Lannister at the front of their group as she growls lowly, "You freed your brother. You committed treason."