𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒚 𝑶𝒖𝒕

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑰𝑰𝑰

𝐴𝑟𝑦𝑎 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑘

299 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡
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They had called her "Horseface" when she was a child. "They" being specifically her sister Sansa. And her being a child, all but a few months ago. And now, Arya felt as though her days of childhood were long gone. She wasn't even Arya anymore. She was alone. Sure she had Gendry, that stupid armorer's apprentice who manged to piss off his master enough to send him to the Night's Watch.

The Wall, Arya thinks to herself. That's where Ben and Jon are. It was true, for all she knew. The rumors spread around like Wildfire that Ben had actually participated in the Battle of the Whistling Wood, and was the one who led the attack and bested the Kingslayer himself. A rumor, but one backed with first hand accounts, supposedly.

Arya had no doubt Ben would do something like that. She had no doubt that he and Jon would go through every Hell imaginable to save her. Even Sansa, whom spoke the harshest words to Ben ever since Arya could remember understanding words. Ben would go through Hell for her, too.

And yet if this were all true, then the war would be over in no time. From the rumors that spread, so too do the rumors that Ben and Jon went back to the Night's Watch, abandoning the war and leaving it on Robb's shoulders. And if that is the case, Arya could not help but feel abandoned in a way. That last game of Tag still hung in her mind like a painfully sad memory that would never go away. That was the last time she ever saw Ben and Jon, the last she saw Robb and Rickon, her mother, her very life. And now, Arya felt unrecognizable. Her hair was hastily cut short to match that of a boy, mud constantly coated her clothes, and she felt like she smelled as bad, if not worse than the sewers of King's Landing.

But Arya felt alone. And as she stared into the starry night sky, that fact that she was alone was never more made aware to her than that moment. She felt small. She felt weak. She felt alone.

𝑇𝑦𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟

___________________________________________

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"Gods-- you idiot boy!"

The Commander of the City Watch bellows slightly, scoffing as Podrik tried his best to help the Lord. But Tyrion only smiles, motioning for Podrik to stop it.

"I think we're perfectly capable of pouring our own wine, Pod. You may go."

"Forgive me, my Lord.."

"Nothing to forgive."

"Speak for yourself.."

Lord Janos muttered angrily under his breath as Podrik walked away, but Tyrion did not react to it. Not yet. He would wait. Oh, how he loved this all. Seeing how Cersei exploded, he could not wait to immediately set out to find his next victim.

"If you had asked, my Lord Hand, I could've found you a better squire. A proper lad."

"To me, I prefer the improper ones."

He remarks as the Lord flips his attitude almost as quickly as it came, smiling as he sips his wine as though he was born with the regal right to do it so elegantly. It was a face. And Tyrion saw right through it.

"Mm, that's a good red. Dornish?"

Tyrion nearly rolled his eyes. But unlike the previous Hand, Tyrion never grew tired of the game of power, even if the little man before him could not see it.

"You know your wines, my Lord."

"That I do. But this fine? This fine dinner, my Lord."

"Please, call me Tyrion. I'm sure you're getting used to fine dinners, now that you're a lord."

The man did not even see the slight in Tyrion's voice.

"Maybe I'll hire this cook of yours."

"Wars have been started for less."

Tyrion fanes a betrayed look, reeling back as though the comment struck a true blow to his jaw and to his heart. He was having his fun. And out of the corner of his Lannister green eye, Tyrion could see Bronn standing in the shadows in the corner of the room trying to hold it together. But quickly looking back before he could notice, Lord Janos begins to laugh lightly as Tyrion chuckles, rubbing his eyes for a moment as the laughter and the settles for a long moment between them.

"I heard the most disgusting of new that there has been quite a disturbance at Littlefinger's brothel last night."

And right there is where Janos Slynt lost any confidence he might have had as Tyrion smirks slightly, noticing the twitch in the Commander's eyes and the slight shake of his hands as his eyes do not greet his own.

"Hmm... Nasty business, but it had to be done."

"Yes, of course. The City Watch must keep the peace... Only, I hadn't realized peace depended on killing babies."

Sweat lines the man's older, black brows, taking a sip of wine and still not meeting Tyrion's eyes.

"Orders are orders."

"Quite right. Especially the Queen Regent's orders."

"I never said they were the of the Quee--"

"No, but who else would want to murder King Robert's bastards? She's always been a jealous woman. Pitiful and spiteful to a fault. I reckon she'll be that way until the very end."

Tyriob remarks as though it were casual to underlyingly threaten one's sister. Janos swallows.

"You know your sister better than I do."

"I'm sure you've heard that terrible song the country do so loves to sing these days. I also hear that a man has had his throat slit in a back alleyway in Flea Bottom for singing it.

Janos just scoffs, shaking his head.

"A rumor, I'm sure. My men have not reported--"

"A rumor, just like how Robb Stark has an army of massive wolves that tear men in half with a single bite, yes. Only I'm finding myself believing only one of those to be true.

"That's good of you, my Lord Hand."

Tyrion only shakes his head, eyes narrowing as an amused smile still sticks to his lips as though tar was poured to seal it that way.

"I know, right? How good is it of me to believe in myself for once and not what my father says? You see, I've taken it upon myself to believe in everything, but trust nothing. So maybe the Northerners do have an army of wolves, but do 9 trust it completely? No. But do I trust that you butchered children and cut other's throats for the sake of Cersei's petty pride?"

The smirk was gone from Tyrion. Gone was the face he had put up. The one that was kind, and was generous to Lord Janos. But that was no longer as he shook his head towards the dishonorable man. And it wasn't that Tyrion wasn't against dishonor, but the fact the man had a ridiculously white beard

"You can bet every penny Cersei paid you, Lord Janos."

"Are you questioning my honor, Imp?"

Janos asks in disbelief, and Tyrion shrugs, smirking yet once more.

"No, please, forgive me, my Lord. Of course I was not questioning it...I was simply denying that it even existed."

Janos slams his hands on the table, shooting out of his seat with a fiery glare.

"You think I'll stand here and take this from you, dwarf!?"

"Dwarf? Oh, my friend, you should have stopped at imp. And yes, you will stand here and take it from me, unless you'd like to take it from my friend here."

Tyrion gestures towards Bronn as Janos freezes in his spot, feeling an arm wrap around his shoulder as the sellsword leans against him, looking at his nails and picking at them slightly. Looking back, Tyrion smirks.

"Jon Arryn was a wise man, a good man. Ned Stark was also, admittedly. I respected him. But that is what got him killed. Wise and honorable traits, but also a good deal of treachery from snakes. I will not have it on my council and I will not have it in my city."

Tyrion utters with a dark, and nearly disturbing tone, saying the words as though the city and Realm belonged to nobody but him. That makes Janos Slynt sputter, nearly pissing himself.

"W-What are you ta- My friends at court will not allow this. The Queen herself--"

"The Queen Regent. Yet again I have to correct you once more? Gods, I have forgotten how dumb and dull you people of this city are. Cersei bought you with her coin, fucked you like her personal little whore, and then gave you back with some bruises and scratches.

"We shall hear what Joffrey--"

But the Lord was not able to utter another word as Bronn took the comment on bruises and scratches as incentive to elbow Janos right in the head, knocking the man onto the table and dumping seemingly endless amounts of food and wine onto the floor, clattering and smashing plates as he groans.

"M-My Lor--"

"Cersei has had fun with her toy. But I believe that she has had quite enough playtime, so my friend here will go through the trouble of putting you on the highest shelf so that Cersei might not reach it."

"The King will hear--"

"No, he shan't.

Tyrion nods at Bronn, who gestures for the Gold Claoks to enter the room, standing obediently for their lord.

"There's a ship leaving for Eastwatch by the Sea tonight. From there, I'm afraid it's rather a long walk to Castle Black. I hope you enjoy the Wall. I found it surprisingly beautiful, in a brutal, horribly uncomfortable sort of way. Oh, and the people? I can't speak for all of them, but two in particular were rather decent fellows. Do give my regards to them when you see them, and you will recognize them."

"The lads will escort you. The streets aren't safe at night, my lord."

Bronn says with a near grin on his lips. Janos Slynt looked around him at the men he had once commanded, and he knew he was fucked. And he was angry.

"These men are under my command!"

But Bronn and Tyrion only chuckle..

"I command you to arrest this cutthroat!"

"The cutthroat here is my good friend Bronn, son of..someone... But he is the new commander of the City Watch."

Janos lost all hopes in his eyes as Bronn motions to his men, a smile grinning from ear to ear.

"Boys?"

The Gold Cloaks, without an ounce of hesitation, storm forward and grab Janos by the arms, "kindly" escorting him out of the room.

"I have friends at court! Powerful friends!"

"Not anymore, Lord Janos! Goodbye, now!"

Tyrion laughs as he sits back in his seat, relishing in his little victory as Bronn takes the former Commander's goblet in his hand as Tyrion takes his own, raising it up.

"To the new Lord Commander."

"To little playthings that squeal like pigs."

Tyrion sips his wine, tasting satisfaction as he closes his eyes, picturing Cersei as a squealing pig, running around the room, crashing intonthings, screaming how Father made things so unfair. Oh, this was a long time coming.

And he wasn't done yet.

𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑘

__________________________________________

"I knew there was something fucked about you from the start!"

Ben growls as he drags Craster through the snow forcefully, looking as though dragging the fat old man was the easiest thing to do in the world. Blood dripped from a cut above his brow, his lips feeling hot and bothered from the strike, and he could taste the iron in his mouth. It tasted bad, but would tastes worst was the feeling he got from watching a child, a fucking baby be taken in the night by..by...something.

"Who the hell do you think you are, old man? Eh? What is wrong with you!?"

"You meddling with things..you aren't supposed to see, boy!"

Craster roars, but Ben only growls as he drags him back to the keep. Without needing to even push the door open, Ben quite literally almost through Craster into his own home, the old man crashing through the door and breaking it down as Ben followed in. Within a few seconds, men of the Night's Watch stood to their feet, Grenn and Sam standing up too fast and running into each other in an effort to get their weapons. Jon stood with Longclaw drawn, his eyes wide with shock as he stares at Ben, but points the blade toward Craster on the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The Old Bear roars, standing up from the floor from where he slept as Ben swiftly moves in, spitting a little blood from his mouth as Craster as a swift kick meets the old man's stomach.

"I just caught this old bastard leaving his kid out in the fucking woods! He just left it in the damn snow like it was nothing!"

"Stark's been meddling in things he shouldn't, Crow!"

Craster roars at Mormont, but Ben quickly pushes Craster over onto his back, and then proceeds to bring his foot up and onto his neck, leaning on his leg as he puts great pressure on the man's neck.

"Benget Stark, enough!"

Mormont shouts as Ben looks up at him with shock and anger.

"Lord Comamnder, he sentenced a fucking baby to dea--"

"Enough!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you!? You're defending this low-life piece of scum? This daughter-fucking, Wildling bastard?"

The Violet Wolf and the Old Bear roar back and forth for a moment as the Night's Watchmen still stood in shock. Ben pressed harder against Craster's throat, anger boiling over and reaching its absolute limit. But in a surprise move, Jeor Mormont stepped passed Jon, pushing him back as he takes a swing at Ben, catching him off guard as the right hook connects with the cut on his head, cutting it further and knocking him right on his ass.

"What the fu--"

But Mormont cuts him off again, but this time, lifts Ben right up off the ground by the neck in a shocking show of strength.

"No!"

Jon downright screams, and chaos seems to break out in Craster's Keep. Men yell at Benget and Jon, others yell at Mormont and Craster. But finally, the Old Bear's voice roars supreme.

"ENOUGH!"

"Mormont, I--"

"You want me to take back the sword then, Jon Stark? Eh? You want me to do this? Then set sit down, and everyone be quiet!"

He roars as Ben struggles against the much larger man's grip. Ben chokes and sputters, struggling to breath as the Old Bear carries him by the neck, moving outside as he nearly slams him against a post as the winter wind begins to pick up the pace. Ben rips and tears at the Lord Commander's arms, struggling to breathe, but the Old Bear's grip was too strong.

But then he was dropped to the snow, and he gasps for breath, sucking in frigid air with greed as his hand unconsciously touches his neck before his eyes narrow and glare towards Mormont.

"You really..really are just going to defend that sick fucking monster?"

He scoffs as Mormont shakes his head.

"How many times in the last decade alone has that sick fucking monster been the difference between life and death for our Rangers? Hmm?"

Ben slowly rises to his feet, coughing before spitting blood at the boots of the Mormont, shaking his head with anger.

"You didn't see it.. He went out there with his own kid, and left it in the snow! And yet you defend him like you've always.."

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Ben trails off for a moment, his eyes looking at the ground in thought before widening, looking back up into Mormont's eyes with disbelief.

"..known... You knew?"

He asks and Mormont sighs, shaking his head.

"Wildlings keep crueler gods than you or I, Benget Stark... Those boys are Craster's..offerings."

"Offerings? He's killing his own children, he's a fucking monster!"

"And yet despite that fact, we need monsters in this world if we are to survive. Like it or not, we need Craster, and you might very well have fucked that. Under all circumstances, I should kill you."

"Then do it, then."

Ben seethes, standing so close to the Old Bear, his glare of violet glowing bright in the darkness, the torch light and his eyes being the only things thsg shine in the winter cold and wind. They stare at each other in silence for a long time, neither saying a word until Mormont shakes his head.

"You attacked your Lord Commander like an idiot boy."

"You swung first."

"Right or wrong, you should die. But we've got a war, Benget Stark. A war that needs fighting, and its right out here. You know it is."

The Old Bear urges, and Ben looks back to the ground, wiping blood from his mouth with the black of his hand as he shakes his head. He turns away from the Lord Commander, back towards where he had dragged Crastee from. He could see it's eyes. They glowed with darkness, yet light. It shook him to his very core.

"If you know he's been giving his children up as..offerings, then it is pretty safe to say you know what is taking them?"

Ben only glances out of the corner of his eyes, looking behind him to the silently frightened eyes of Jeor Mormont. Ben never saw the man afraid. But the look of fear in his eyes coupled with the distance within his very eyes also playing a huge roll in Ben's thoughts.

""Night gathers, and now my Watch begins. It shall not end until my death.""

The Commander mutters, as Ben eyes him.

""I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns, or win no glory.
I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.""

And then silence fell upon the two as they looked at one another, a cold running up both of their spines.

"What you saw... You know the history of the Realm, you know what the First Men fought against... You know how they supposedly crawled into the ice and slept for thousands of years..but..."

He said, and cold, frozen fear sunk into Ben's heart for the first time in his life. And this time, no fire ran through his veins as he felt nothing but ice and snow.

"They're awake."

꧁~~~~~~꧂

"Are you all right, Ben?"

Th question was stupid, and Ben would not deny that it was. The cuts had been cleaned, though none needed stitching. A wrap of cloth wrapped around his head as though he wore a headband like that of a warrior from Essos might. Ben only looks at Jon, unsmiling as the bruises that formed and the tired eyes showing just how he feels.

"Right..sorry."

He apologizes, but it should not be him that does so. It should really be him, but it should also be Craster and the Old Bear. They lied. They knew what was out there, and have done nothing.

"I know you haven't slept since yesterday, so if you want, you could ride on the sledge for a bit to--"

"I'm fine, Jon. But thank you for your consideration."

Jon sighs heavily, shaking his head.

"You're lucky you are still alive."

"No. Craster's lucky. The Old Bear is lucky. You have no idea how much I nearly said "fuck everything" and tore that monster apart. It would the least he deserves."

Ben tightens the straps of his saddle around his stallion just a bit tighter than he intended, frsitration still evident as it will be the rest of the day.

"But Craster isn't the only monster out there, Jon. And those monsters.."

He couldn't finish his sentence. And Jon himself was afraid. Ben never was afraid of anything. But this... something is out there.

𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑇𝑦𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑙

___________________________________________

"Have you ever been to the Harvest Festival before?"

"It's my first time in the Reach, Margaery. We don't have such..extravagant things in the North."

She feels herself giggle as she cuddles closer to the warm body beside her, sighing with content.

"The most we ever have are feasts in the name of the King, country or my Lord Father. You can imagine which one is celebrated more."

"I'm sure Lord Eddard is celebrated far and wide throughout the North."

"Mm.."

Benget mumbles as he leans back beside her, an arm wrapped around her bare body only barely covered by a green silk sheet. The Northener closes his eyes in relaxation as Margaery finds herself tracing random shapes on his chest out of a quiet bliss.

"You will be celebrated tomorrow, my lo...Ben. I'm sure my father will announce you and show you off."

Margaery hesitated, and whether or not the Stark picked up on it or not was forever a mystery to Margaery.

"Mayce Tyrell does love a show. If the people of Highgarden wish for one, then they should have seen Loras and I's duel yesterday. That was a spectacle."

"It was."

Margaery mutters, her fingers stopped tracing as she stared off towards the other side of her room. She sighed heavily as her heart felt like tearing itself apart, but she held on. She held onto her beliefs, and she would not be broken from them, no matter what or who fell between her and them. Even if that person was someone she held so dear in such short time.

"All stories have an end, Margaery."

The Tyrell girl looks up to see the distant and sad eyes of the Stark boy, seeing how he understood her completely. She took pride in never being able to be read so easily, but those violet eyes pierced her very soul and read every line. He knew. And that made it hurt all the more.

"Good or bad, nothing ever gets to last in this world. Whether that be innocnets of blood or innocents of love..it never lasts."

Margaery opened her eyes to the world around her as though she were just in a dream. Only that dream was just a memory of a different life. A different woman.

Her eyes travel to the sand bellow her and the platform, watching as her brother duels a great beast of a person in full armor, helmed and all. And soon, she smiles brightly.

"Loras! Highgarden!"

She cheered as she shot out of her seat beside her king, excitement or her brother threatening to spill over. But disappointment did instead as she saw Loras get picked up by the tall knight in bronze, getting slammed into the sand of the beach as a dagger drawn in his face.

"I yield! All right, I yield!"

Loras huffs with frustration as the knight climbs off of him and Margaery sits back down. She glances at her Lord Husband, who looked at her with amusement before turning back to the champion.

"Well fought!"

He claps.

"Approach."

He commands with grace, his brown curls falling underneath his crown of golden antlers of that of a stag. But his crown was made with roses, not true grit like the true steel of House Baratheon. Whether or not something was true however was for Margsery to interpret and to gamble on. She and Loras already played their hands.

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"You may remove your helm."

The knight before them knelt before removing the bronze helmet, and Margaery raises a brow as very short blonde hair greets her, and the crowd of Baratheon bannermen step back in awe and shock of the woman, and the fact that the knight is a woman. Though, then she would not be the woman if that be the case.

"You are all your father promised and more, my Lady."

Renly smiles, and Margaery shakes her head in amusement as she sees Loras have a pouty look upon his face.

"I have seen Ser Loras bested once or twice but..never in quite a fashion."

"Now, now, my love. My brother fought valiantly for you."

She says with her tongue, but her mind cannot help but think back to her lover in the past. It was only just a few years ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. Olenna made sure of that.

"That he did, my Queen. But there can only be one champion: Brienne of Tarth. Ask anything of me that you may like. If it is within my power, it is yours."

He smiles, and Margaery turns away from him, eyeing the..maiden from Tarth. He was too kind. Too generous with his power. It's not a question who she would rather side with, Renly or Stannis, but if her heart had allowed, if the gods and fate allowed, she would side with neither and none. She'd be alone, or she'd be with him.

"Your Grace."

Brienne starts.

"I ask the honor of your place in the Kingsguard."

Wasn't expecting that. It seemed everyone in the crowd had shared her thought as all stared at her in surprise, some with discontent as well.

"I will be one of your seven, pledge my life to yours and keep you safe from any and all harm, from this day until my very last."

Margaery glances at Renly, who wore a stoic and calm expression. It'd never been done before, a woman in the Kingsguard. That much is true. But nothing will change if Renly did not take the Seven Kingdoms for his own.

"Done. Rise, Brienne of the Kingsguard!"

Margaery's eyes wander to the side, her eyes landing on an older looking woman with auburn hair and blue eyes. A Tully. But it were not just any Tully, but Catelyn Tully herself. Noticing that her presence was now known, Catelyn steps out with her Northern guard who wears the sigil of House Stark upon his surcoat. Yet another reminder.

"My Lord."

He announces, and Renly sees the man and Catelyn approach.

"May I present Lady Catelyn of House Stark, sent by her son, King Robb of House Stark, the King in the North and Lord of Winterfell."

"King in the North?"

Renly only chuckles, shaking his head.

"What is that? Four kings, I believe? I seem to have lost count by now."

His words were edged to be a slight, Margaery knew. But with the way Catelyn narrowed her eyes slightly, she knew they did not penetrate any army.

"Four kings, perhaps. But how many of them are actually fighting a war, and not playing at one?"

Margaery bites her tongue to stop from smiling as Renly frowns deeply.

"It's good to see you again, Cat."

"You as well, Lord Renly."

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"His Grace."

Brienne mutters, taking her new roll of Kingsguard to heart with the moments notice.

"You should kneel when you speak, and address His Grace properly so."

"That's not needed."

Renly says as he stands from his seat.

"You're welcome here, Lady Catelyn. May I present to you, my wife: Lady Margaery of House Tyrell."

Catelyn's eyes land on hers, and they only narrow even more. And from what Margaery could guess, she is quite well known the the Widow of Winterfell. The whole Realm knows her. Whether they believe the truth of what happened or not, even if it were never admitted true and out loud.

"My Lady, it is an honor to meet you. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Indeed."

The widow simply replies as Renly shakes his head, stepping down the steps onto the sand of the beach.

"Fret not, Lady Catelyn. Our war is only beginning. And it will end with the Lannisters paying their debts for your husband's life. I swear it."

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𝑅𝑜𝑏𝑏 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑘

____________________________________________

Grey Wind stood beside him, his head reaching to his lower chest as a man slowly trues crawling away, an arm already missing and a large open gash across his neck. His armor and clothes were already crimson before he was wounded. Robb sighs and with a heavy heart, plunges his blade through the back of the man's neck, putting him down within an instant. And though it hurt to do so, Robb made sure to tilt the man's face around that he could see it. It would be wrong to stab someone in the back and not see their face.

Robb stands back up straight, groaning a little as his armor feels as though it weighs like a thousand blocks of pure steel. If that were the case, a cut would not be present just on his arm where a gap presented itself in the plating. He hadn't worn chain underneath. And despite how tired he was without it, Robb knew that Ben would kill him if he did not put it on again.

Grey Wind brushed against his leg, his tail wagging and his tongue out and panting as Robb kneels, petting the wolf with a small smile. But the smile dies as he gazes out across the massive battlefield there in the Westerlands. Fires still burned, some already extinguished, leaving behind ashes and smoke. Corpses also littered the field, and Robb watched as his men looted what they could. And he let them. But the dead would be given something. Something as a show of respect to the disrespect Robb allows under them. He does not have gold to offer his men as payment. He has his respect, and that is what had led these men so far.

Robb drops back from sitting up on a knee to sitting down on the hill where he was overlooking the small valley and field. Hundreds of corpses of Lannister soldiers lie dead, while plenty of his own lied there as well. Even when he closes his eyes, he could still see them. It haunted him to the core.

But Grey Wind drops down beside him, his massive head resting on his master's leg as he closes his eyes in an attempt to briefly sleep, making Robb smile in hope. He hopes that the war could be over soon. One day, it will end. It has to. Everything bad has to end one day. He said so himself.

𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑘
_______________________________________________

"Do you think it ever ends?"

Ben had barely looked at Samwell as he waddled alongside the sledge. They had long since dismounted their horses as the snows were too deep, the ice to slippery. Jon walked alongside Sam and Grenn, while Ben led then forward as he pulled the sledge, with Grenn pushing it.

"Does what end?"

"The snows? Well, I mean, like the land around us. Do you figure it's just snow and ice forever out there?"

"Well, to the far, far north are the Lands of Always Winter. So you tell me?"

Jon remarks, and that seemed to silence the Tarly boy. Ben gritted his teeth for a moment as he tugged and pulled, moving the sledge along the rocky and snowy terrain around them all. The sun in the sky was high up above them, shining down so brightly, and yet so dull. It was dull. Everything out here was dull.

The boys were slowing down. They continually struggled to get up in the morning on their seemingly endless march north. They struggled to eat at night when they had finally stopped. And Jon was always cold, no matter how often he wore Ben's cloak as well as his own. Ben felt tired. More tired than he's ever been in a long time. But the silence is what eats away at him the most.

And so finally switching off with another Watchmen, Ben walks off further ahead of Jon and the others, though not that far. He felt alone however as he walked through the snow, the sky bluer than the Narrow Sea that seemed so far away now. He was so far from home. From everything. He was alone.

"Somewhere there's a mother,
Crying for her boy.."

His words felt frozen in his throat, carrying so much weight and tiredness behind them. But his tired mind could not stop. It had to keep running. And so he sang a song as soft as he could.

"He is a Night's Watch Ranger..
With orders to deploy...

Somewhere there's a father,
Crying for his son..
His son was Night's Watch Ranger,
With a war to be won...

Somewhere there's daughter,
Crying for dad..
He was a Night's Watch Ranger,
Now he's just a burning stag...

Don't you cry for him,
He don't need your sympathy..
He is a Night's Watch Ranger,
It's the best that he could be..
It's the best that he could be..."

And his song had ended, and nothing had changed. His words merely dissapeared into the cold winds of despair and loneliness.

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𝐷𝑎𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑠 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛
____________________________________________

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Her silver lied dead on the red stained ground, staining it ever more as Ser Jorah cut into the poor animal with a knife so that they might eat it. And despite the hunger, despite the pain and thirst, Daenerys wanted to die. She truly felt like that. She felt as though she were the walking dead, cursed to wander aimlessly the deserts until whatever cruel gods are out there finally says she's had enough.

The Stormborn stumbles to her feet with great effort, and at this point, the exiled knight did not bother to stop her as he himself was so tired and weak, he could not. Daenerys stumbled her way through what remains of her mighty Khalasar. Maybe a dozen people now, it felt like. A dozen people who have followed her to the end of the world. They have followed her to their deaths.

The sun bore down on them without mercy. Even as the sun was setting, it did not spare but a drop of it. And as Daenerys plopped herself down against a scorching rock, she hissed as her blisters stung even further, the heat not helping a bit. She loved flames. When she bathed in them only what felt like years ago, she felt at home. She was born in fire and blood, but now she loathed both of them. Fire and blood would not save her from this desert.

"Is..Is this what has come to?"

She whispers faintly to nobody as she stares west towards the sunset. She felt as though she could cry, but Dany had cried all the tears she could. Of anymore fell, it would be a waste.

"W-Was this all just part of the plan? The Stallion Who Mounts the World, only to..to die and his mother be damned to hell?"

And Daenerys could not stop her mumbling, her insanity that was driven into her mind from the scorching desert. She could not stop it. The fever dreams that came when she slept, the pain that always presented itself front and center when she was awake, the horrid nightmare she lives and breathes every day. She could not stop it.

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But then, the sound of howling cried out in the far distance to the west. But it was not a song sung by a pack of wolves or a pride of lions. The howl was alone. A lone wolf left in the desert. Daenerys wishes she could see it. See that it's black fur and eyes that cpuld reflect her own if it were possible. She would tell it how sorry she is that she could do nothing to help. But she would if she could.

The wolf cried out once more, the sad and loneliest song she's ever heard in her life. It only reminded her how alone she was. She was the last Targaryen, the last hope for her House and her very race of Valyrians. But the thought of whether or not it was their time came to her mind.

The wolf's song echoed one last time in the distance, desperate to the very end while knowing that it's life was over. It's song had ended when the sun disappeared, and Daenerys Targaryen was left alone with herself once more.

She was alone in the world with no one to save her. Daenerys cried that night, and her tears were still present the next morning.

꧁~~~A/N~~~꧂

Wow, okay, so do you guys have any idea how much fun that chapter was to write? If you haven't caught on with the theme so far of this Act, it's one of loneliness. Everyone suffers from it, but I guess you'll have to wait and see how they rise from it. And if they do at all.

This chapter was a huge amount of fun to write, and I really hope you all like it. Please comment whether you did or not, but obviously you are no obligated to do so, lol.

Anyways, much love!! ❤❤