The trip was short.
She waited the full three days to give the raven enough time to arrive; Ellaria had picked the swiftest one for the journey. Once she'd packed sufficient warm clothes, she mounted Viserion, the two soaring far out over the sea, avoiding the land and anyone who might catch a glimpse of them.
At the Neck, they dove back down, and found Winterfell was ready for them. Northerners were gathered inside and outside its walls, pointing up at the dragon and scrambling out of the way as Saera guided Viserion to land at its gates.
She beckoned him to fly off and wait for her, hoping he wouldn't cause any trouble. The gates opened, revealing a man with dark hair and a full beard standing beside a young girl with fiery red hair.
"Greetings," she said, striding forward. "You must be King Jon and Lady– well, Princess Sansa."
"And you must be the third queen I've heard of recently," said Jon with a tight smile.
"Future queen," she said.
"You really came with no men?"
"It would have taken too long. And I am not here to intimidate Northerners or show any force. I want to hear what you have to say, Jon Snow. I've been counseled to and there is much to discuss as I look for allies in Westeros. May I–?"
They beckoned her in, leading her past the spectators, who watched the perfect circles her spear made as she tapped it against the snowy ground. Even over her fur coat they could see her knives, arakh, and the sword against her back.
She wasn't at all what they'd been expecting.
"Thank you for welcoming me into your home," said Saera, sitting across the table from them and another man, named Davos Seaworth (apparently he was now something like Jon's Hand, and had served Stannis until recently, having adored Stannis's daughter as if she was his own). "And thank you to your father as well. Were it not for him, I wouldn't have gotten out of King's Landing alive."
"So we heard," said Jon. "Your father burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms. And yet... my father rescued you."
"A debt I can never repay," said Saera. "I offer an apology on behalf of my family. My father was a troubled man, but it does not excuse what he did. I swear to you, I am not like him. The gift of life your father gave me was something I seized and used to strengthen myself. Until recently, I was sworn to my sister. Now, I wish to restore peace to Westeros."
"How can we trust you?" asked Sansa carefully. "A woman who would betray her own sister?"
Saera smiled. "If only I could instantaneously show you all the things that have transpired in Essos. You would be surprised I did not come sooner. Yes, unfortunately, my image is that of a traitor, of a usurper. My sister is... much more like King Aerys than I am. She angers more easily than I, she is quicker to slaughter. I decided that was not what this land needed. I took matters into my own hands. My sister would not give you a free North. But I am inclined to do that. In fact, I will. Because the North has practically been independent for the longest time. I see no reason why you should be forcedto stay if you don't want to. Not all kingdoms benefit in the same ways from unity."
This seemed to surprise both of them. "A free North?" repeated Sansa. "You'd leave us be?"
"I don't see why not. Every Kingdom will be given the same choice. I know the Reach and Dorne will remain in the fold. The others, I'm not yet certain. We will leave it up to them to decide." She stared at Sansa for a moment, which apparently made the girl feel flustered. "Forgive me, you... look so much like your mother."
"You knew my mother?" said Sansa.
She nodded. "I knew King Robert, Stannis, Renly, your parents, aunts and uncles, I knew Cersei, Jamie, and Tyrion– I grew up with them. My father considered marrying me to Ned Stark, to your Uncle Edmure, to Stannis, to the Kingslayer. I feel quite old but according to my good friends, I look much younger than I am. I admired Catelyn a great deal; she was said to be a rare beauty, with that gorgeous Tully hair. She was an inspiring woman. I've also heard good things about your brother. The things your family has endured... it's awful. I offer you many, many condolences. Your parents and two brothers, I've heard. It's a vicious thing, to lose a loved one. But... alas, I did not come here to discuss that. I want to hear what you have to say, Jon Snow. The things you have seen."
He was glad to see she actually wanted to listen. "Well... you need my help as much as I need yours. You could storm King's Landing with the army you apparently already have, but you won't because you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. But all those innocent lives may be lost regardless– everyone we know will die before winter's over if we don't defeat the enemy beyond the Wall. The dead are the enemy."
"The dead?" she repeated.
"The Army of the Dead is on the march. They are real. The White Walkers are real. The Night King is real– I've seen them. If they get past the Wall, and we're squabbling amongst ourselves, we're finished. Even if you take the Iron Throne, you'll be ruling over a graveyard if we don't defeat the Night King."
Saera was struggling to believe it. Those were supposed to be myths, legends. She didn't think it would be this bad. This, this was concerning to an entirely unprecedented degree.
"It sounds like nonsense," said Ser Daavos. "But if destiny has brought a Targaryen back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. All the hard sons-of-bitches outside of this hall chose him as their leader because they believe in him. All those things you may not believe in– he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own–"
Jon warned him to stop, but Saera was already curious. "There is no time for any of this," said Jon quickly. "While we stand here, the Night King continues to march on the Wall."
"Answer my one question," said Saera. "Did he mean it? That you took a knife in your heart and... I imagine the rest is that you gave your life for your beliefs?"
He hesitated. "My own men killed me at Castle Black for letting the wildlings past. The Red Priestess, Melisandre, brought me back."
She was quiet. "There are perhaps only two reasons why a man would die and be allowed to come back. Either he sold his soul to the darkest gods or... he wasn't wrong." She sighed. "I must speak about this with my advisors and therefore cannot yet make any promises, but... I brought a great deal of livestock and pounds upon pounds of all the crops we managed to produce in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. I would like to bring a significant amount of it here, to Winterfell, if this is where the armies who fight the Night King will stay until the battle. I will see who is willing to fight. The Dornish will follow me here without question. The Reach's army... less certain. I have barely a thousand men of my own who will come at my orders. I will need your help to convince others to follow. I intend to forge a temporary alliance with the Greyjoys, for the sake of using their strongest– yet worst-behaved– men."
"What do you need?" asked Jon.
"I need proof. Is there anything you can produce that will prove that what you say is true? That White Walkers and wights are real?"
He hesitated. "I will need to think a bit more on that. But that does bring me to the next thing I wished to discuss. Dragonglass. A weapon that can kill both White Walkers and wights. A friend of mine learned from records in Oldtown that it can be mined from the mountain under Dragonstone. I would need ships to retrieve it and bring it here."
"As soon as I can ensure we'll meet no resistance from the Greyjoys, it will be done," said Saera. "I will give you the ships you need to sail to Dragonstone but I will ask you use your own men to mine it; as I mentioned, mine are stretched thin without yours added to the fold. On that note, Princess Sansa..." she clasped her hands together. "Is there anyguarantee that the Knights of the Vale would be willing to join us in removing the Lannisters from King's Landing?"
Sansa and Jon shared a look. "I will make it happen," said Sansa. "The Knights of the Vale will fight here as well."
"Of course, I'd expect nothing less." She winced. "I certainly wish I had more than one dragon."
"Forgive me, Queen Saera," said Jon carefully, "but couldn't you... ask her to help?"
"The relationship between my sister and I is very complicated. I know almost certainly that she'd want nothing to do with helping you if you did not first promise you will bend the knee. She wants ultimate power, unfortunately. She will not take kindly to demands. Inviting her here could mean opening myself up for a civil war and if I am killed... she will take Westeros with Fire and Blood, nothing less. I am aware this sounds cowardly and does not help much. But... I think it is too much of a risk."
The door opened, a servant rushing in. "Forgive me– the gate–" he panted, holding his knee. "You'll want to come, my King."
Jon stood quickly, followed by Sansa. Out of curiously, Saera went with them, stopping in her tracks when she saw a boy in a cart waiting for them. Sansa burst into tears as he said, "Hello, Sansa," and rushed to hug him tight.
"Who is that?" she whispered to Ser Davos.
"Their brother, young Bran," he said quietly. As soon as Sansa was out of the way, Jon kissed his little brother's head, holding him to his chest, relieved.
"Look at you," said Jon. "You're a man."
"Almost," said Bran quietly. "We should speak in the godswood."
Jon turned back to Saera, who nodded; who was she to hold them back?
She sat for a meal with the other Northerners, one of whom was a smart girl named Lyanna Mormont. Lord Royce was present as well, the pair seemingly judging Saera for every bite she took. She didn't mind it; Northerners were always the most wary of outsiders.
"Queen Saera," said a man, sliding to sit across from her. "Not so long ago... the Sweet Princess."
"Littlefinger, is that really you?" she said curiously. "My, you look different. It's been a very long time since I saw you."
"Likewise, my Queen. The Knights of the Vale are yours, for whatever you need."
"Thank you," she said. "I've known you to be a fickle man, Littlefinger. I don't wish for you to be my enemy. If you claim you will commit to me, I wish for you to mean it. Not to leave once it becomes difficult to maintain."
"I would not do that," promised Lord Baelish. (She didn't believe him; he was like a weasel who slipped away at the first sign of trouble. Still, a potentially useful man to keep close.)
"Good," she said. "I hope you will prove that to me. If you'll excuse me, I must check on my dragon."
Viserion had helped himself to five sheep that had been provided to him by one of the Northerners, who along with a group of his friends, wanted to see the dragon up close. Saera had to admit, they were a brave bunch. Viserion wasn't complaining; any man who led sheep to him to eat was not as much of a stranger, though not quite a friend.
"How do you feel, my darling?" she asked, caressing his face as he leaned down to look at her. "We won't be here much longer. I've sent a letter just now, before anyone could stop me. Asking Lord Varys what I should do. We might yet have time... apparently, Bran Stark is something called a Three-Eyed Raven. He sees everything that's happened and is happening. The Night King is not close enough to the Wall. We have time to... perhaps simultaneously hit the Riverlands and the Westerlands. Retake Riverrun and Casterly Rock. The majority of our forces will concentrate on the Rock, and I think with the Northerners we can take Riverrun from the Lannisters. With any luck, we won't lose too many men and will have control over the majority of Westeros so we may move food up to Winterfell to feed the fighters."
He stared at her, and she wondered if he was in agreement, or thought it a bad idea.
She'd have to wait to find out.
Varys agreed that it was possible to do it simultaneously, though it would not be easy. They couldn't leave Dorne and the Reach undefended in case the forces in the Crownlands and Stormlands were forced at them; this she agreed upon.
She decided to leave a little less than half their forces to defend Dorne and the surrounding areas of the Reach. The remaining Dornish and Reach forces would march on Casterly Rock. With the shipments of grain already on the way to Winterfell, she convinced Jon Snow to mobilize a force of Northmen and Knights of the Vale who would retake Riverrun and place it in the hands of Edmure Tully, leaving them a place for the women and children who could not fight to stay safe. The majority of the fighting men in the Riverlands would go north to join the fight against the Night King when the time came. Riverrun would also serve as a place to retreat if the North became inhospitable.
It still left them at a disadvantage against Casterly Rock. She couldn't risk sending a letter to Tyrion to ask for its secrets and she didn't remember much of anything from the limited weeks she spent there; it wasn't like Cersei would have shown her any secret passageways. Even if Tyrion wanted to tell her what he knew, Daenerys might not allow it. She might force him to give her false information.
She'd need to choose between Riverrun and Casterly Rock. Obviously, she would choose the latter. If she could break through from overhead to open the gates as they did in Yunkai and let the army flood in, the castle would fall.
Even then, more men were desirable. The forces in Riverrun were significantly less than what was guarding the impenetrable Rock.
Given how close she already was to the Iron Islands, she sent one more raven letting her council know that she was going to make her arrangement with Euron Greyjoy. She would say that she'd give him Casterly Rock as soon as she had the Iron Throne and had imprisoned the remaining Lannisters. This would not be true, nor the fact that she'd let him keep the Iron Islands.
She had only to hope she could keep up the ruse long enough.
This isn't your first time playing pretend. You lied for years in Dorne, lied in the faces of people who didn't know who you were and couldn't know. You dyed your hair, you carried a fake name, you knew how to lie. You did it to survive and now you have to do it again. You have to trick him. If he figures it out, you're practically dead. Whatever promise you made to Yara will be broken.
We need these ships, we need these men. We need Casterly Rock.
Be cruel. Be manipulative. Be all the things you are trying to avoid.
Maybe I am worse than Daenerys in some ways...
She couldn't afford to let her worries about her performance cause her to ruin it entirely. She was alone, she had no backup if it went south. She could rely only on herself and her ability to make friends and allies. She was better at it than Daenerys.
It was just different when the allies weren't good people.
Talking with Sansa and Jon had been different. The girl was sweet, although untrusting after what she'd been through. Saera understood it and was glad to see that Sansa was cautious yet still knew how to listen and be reasonable. Jon was assertive and in ways stubborn, too, but he had a good heart. They were easy to talk to, even easier to negotiate with.
The King of the Iron Islands would prove a challenge. Her father had never spoken highly of the Ironborn. Euron started the Greyjoy Rebellion. It was risky to be here at all.
Euron watched her, dark eyes tracing over her figure as she strode up to the Salt Throne, dressed in her armor and with her weapons on full display. Over her head she wore a golden headpiece, not quite a crown, but a gift given to her long ago by Oberyn, beautiful enough that she could use it as a crown until she had designed one of her own.
"You must be the Dragon Queen," said Euron.
"One of them," said Saera with a tight-lipped smile. "Saera of House Targaryen, future Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. The Slayer, The Sand Dragon, The Red Serpent, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. You must be Euron, King of the Iron Islands."
"That I am," he said. "And this King is wondering why you're here and not with your sister and my nephew and niece. You know, they turned on me. Their own uncle. They stole my best ships and ran."
"So I was told," said Saera smoothly. "But you cannot blame children, can you? Between us adults... they're going to find a lot more trouble there than they would here."
He laughed derisively. "Are you looking for trouble, Your Grace? You came alone, and your dragon abandoned you the moment you walked in."
"He's waiting for me at a distance," said Saera. "Surely you don't intend to hurt someone who arrived peacefully with an offer of marriage?"
He leaned forward, interested. "Go on."
"You might compare me to your nephew and niece," she reasoned. "They turned their backs on you, I turned my back on my sister. It is a lot to explain, but let us just say my sister, despite preaching her desire for freedom, does not take kindly to people wanting to be free of her. She would make Yara the Lady of the Iron Islands... but simply that. A Lady. Never a Queen. She'd reduce the Iron Islands for the sake of maintaining control. I won't do that. I see a throne, I see a King sitting on it. In fact, I can offer you something much larger."
"And what is that?"
"Casterly Rock."
He clicked his tongue. "I'm supposed to trust that?"
"I'm supposed to trust you?" she asked. "You are known for being a traitor. Since I was a girl I heard stories about the wild Euron Greyjoy. I come here now because we stand to help each other. But I knew that we would not likely trust one another. Yet, we both need the other. You need someone to protect your claim when your bratty little niece comes back calling for her throne and you also need someone that will help you live without interference from the Crown. I need bodies."
She stepped closer. "I offer this: a marriage to stabilize both our claims. When I retake the Iron Throne– and only then– you will receive Casterly Rock as it is stripped away from the Lannisters. And anyone who remains on the Iron Islands will be considered yours, too. You would be King of the Westerlands... which I may like to rename the Ironlands, to encompass the islands as well." She shrugged, "The name is a work in progress. In return all I ask is that your men become my men. I need them to take Casterly Rock in the first place and I need them to take King's Landing later. Do you accept?"
Euron ran his tongue over his lips. "And how soon do we wed?"
She smiled, pretending she felt no fear. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I won't let you put a son in me until the wars are won, Euron. I intend to fight with my soldiers and I can't very well do that with a babe in my belly, can I? Other Targaryens have ridden dragons pregnant but never to war. It's a risk. We both need heirs and I think it's best we wait for conditions to be right. Perhaps by then, we'll trust each other and even be a bit fond of one another. When I sit on the throne, you will have your wedding and the night that comes with it."
"Then I accept," he said. "My ships and men are yours."
"Good. I will fly back to Dorne to ready my men. Await my raven. We will attack Casterly Rock very, very soon."
"Give me one thing before you go," said Euron, tapping his cheek. "A promise."
She laughed, rolling her eyes. "You wish for a kiss to seal our union?"
"Wouldn't hurt, would it?"
"Perhaps it is more interesting to leave you wanting for more. After all, I'm told you intended to give my sister your 'big cock.' I don't quite like the idea of giving you a kiss when our betrothal, at this point, is strictly political. I've no way of knowing how you truly feel about me."
He smirked. "Ah." He began to stride off the throne, making toward her. "So you don't trust me because I started a rebellion... that's fair. You don't trust me because you think me a vile man. Also fair. And you don't trust me because you think I prefer your sister over you. Well... you are a much more jealous woman than I took you for, my Queen."
She tilted her head up as he stopped in front of her. He was large enough to kill her if he really tried; she didn't doubt he'd be able to. She kept a hold on her spear, even leaning against it, raising a brow and waiting for his response.
"Ever since I was a little boy, I wanted to grow up and marry the most beautiful woman in the world," he said. "Never did I think she'd have silver hair, but..." he dared to reach out and coil a strand of her hair around his finger, "I am not opposed to it."
"You'll have to try a lot harder than that if you wish for me to kiss and fuck you," said Saera sweetly, stepping away. "We are allies first and foremost... for now. I promise you... we can think of other things once I have my throne. Understood?"
The look on his face told her that he liked the idea of a game. She said the right things.
Now she just had to make it last.
She flew back to Dorne as soon as she'd sent a letter about what'd happened to Jon, keeping him informed. Viserion was pleased to snatch up more fish, and landed happily in Sunspear, where it was much warmer and he could access the sea without trouble.
"My Queen," said Obella, smiling and taking her arm. "We're glad you've returned. There is someone waiting for you."
"You don't need to call me that, little sister," said Saera, nuzzling her nose against her. "I held you with one arm and Elia with the other, the perfect little twins, when I first arrived here. You were just born, such perfect girls. I will always be your sister before I am your Queen."
"Well, then, Saera, you will be pleased to see this face." She pushed open the doors of the Great Hall, a man standing alone, face and arms scarred, but otherwise, he was unharmed.
Saera let her spear fall out of her hand. "Jorah."
He bent the knee immediately. "My Queen."