Honestly, it has been hard for her to focus since her conversation with Jon...her emotions like a storm upon her very consciousness, and it overwhelmed her to such a degree that she needed to get away from him. She wonders if he is still in that hallway...and yet, this is hardly the time to ponder on her feelings and emotions when the battlefield itself needs to be prepared.
But perhaps it's still a blessing that the Hound rounds the corner ahead of her, headed in the opposite direction and thus putting them on a crash-course to at least hit shoulders through the small hallway. Meeting his eye, she sees the worry he has for this upcoming battle even as he tries to hide such things from her—and it reminds her that this man could die tonight. And after everything the two of them have been through...Gabrielle has a hard time imagining a world without Sandor Clegane.
And thus, as the man passes her in that hall, she quips, "Hey, don't die."
"Keep the goddamn fire away from me," the man huffs in response, leaving Gabrielle with a lasting grin on her face as she walks nearer the Keep and towards her duties. And while this world has changed much in a decade, and Gabrielle and the Hound have rarely been together—it gives her a sense of peace to know that her relationship with this man will never change. It is comforting to knowing something is absolute when in just a few hours of time, they all might die.
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The wind is basically blowing through his body, now that the sun has set and he has no ale to warm him—just one of many who will need to be at complete attention when the battle begins this night. Yet, Jon still wishes for at least the protection of Winterfell's walls as he stands, shouting commands to the armies of the North who are gathering their weapons from the armory nearby. He has a continual shiver running down his back, and he's long lost the feeling in his toes. But it's important that these men are told their positions for when the Night King arrives.
And yet, as time passes, the constant wave of men becomes but a trickle as Stannis Baratheon departs the door to the Keep and makes his way towards the bastard, Jon Snow. At first, the man thinks it is an allusion—that Stannis cannot mean to address him. And yet, Jon is the only one around as the man comes to stand before him, looking no more amused than usual.
"Jon," the man greets with a nod.
Jon echoes the sentiment, yet wonders all the same at this rare instance in which Stannis is alone, "Stannis. Should you not be with Sans—"
"I am here because I mean to speak to you. Not her," the man interrupts, and Jon acquiesces if only due to the blunt tone that is typical of Stannis's character. Of course, Jon does not take it personally, yet he still wonders how Sansa could possible like this man who possesses no charm. And as such, he proves himself once again as Stannis attacks with, "You've committed perhaps one of the worst crimes a man can commit. Yet, you do nothing."
Jon's eyebrows fall into a deep furrow at the almost anger—if not irritation—on Stannis's face. To what is he referring? As far as Jon can remember, he has done nothing to hurt the armies or his family in the past year to deserve such an expression, and so Jon just weakly mutters, "...What?"
"You betrayed your promised for another woman," Stannis identifies, "and you do nothing to apologize, reconcile. A pious and righteous man as you claim to be would not stand here and let her linger in doubt."
To be clear, Jon is entirely startled by the Baratheon's intention to give him guidance on love and relationships when Jon arguably has more experience with women. He stares at the man with something akin to great shock, and yet, there is an underlying vein of irritation that this 'advice' is exactly opposite to what he was told before. Muttering as much, Jon defends himself, "It was not my intention to. Tyrion—"
"—is a fool who's seen Daenerys Targaryen to be our best bet," Stannis interrupts again, prompting Jon to question if he's lost all manners. "His opinion means nothing."
"So what? You want me to march up to Gabrielle, fall on my knees before her, and expect her to take me back?" Jon asks with a dangerous level of sarcasm, tempting Stannis into deeper anger with his tone. And yet, Jon has had a very trying day. And he has better things to do than worry about this.
"Leaders do not snivel nor do they run. But neither do they ignore their faults," Stannis presses him. "They accept them and ask the wronged for forgiveness."
Jon is almost certain that this man before him is not Stannis Baratheon but a ghost that he is both hearing and seeing. This is not like Stannis...to give romantic advice. But Jon knows one person who likes to do so readily, and so he asks, "Sansa sent you didn't she?"
"Lady Stark does not control me anymore than you control her," Stannis is quick to rebuke with a growl that leaves Jon struck. "These are just the words of a man who has made many mistakes and is perhaps wiser than you. Don't be daft. We could die this night."
The man stomps away from him and back into the Winterfell keep as Jon is left standing there with wide eyes and open mouth. Stannis Baratheon is not the same as he once was, that much is certain. And while Jon should have seen it, his time at Winterfell has been spent planning rather than analyzing personality traits.
Yet it also reveals that Stannis Baratheon cares more for Gabrielle Baelish than he once supposed...to stand up for her. And as such—looking after where the man disappeared—he has to wonder if he is right. After all, Stannis is closer to Gabrielle than she is to Tyrion—so should he not listen to the former when it comes to advice on his lost lover?
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Gabrielle is finding it increasingly difficult to focus on her obligations that have never been more important than they are now. She must prepare the land, light the fires, gather her troops, and—most importantly—find the peace that lets her harness her powers. And if there is one thing she knows, the godswood has always served to help her focus beyond her immediate self and the feelings that seem to plague her consciousness—love, regret, hope, and vengeance.
And so, she takes to it immediately, not feeling strange despite having been there three times this day, for when could it be more important than the day they face the Dead? But upon walking from the halls of Winterfell and into the far vaster and mysterious garden of the godswood, Gabrielle finds herself with more peace than she could have hoped—because Sansa is there.
The woman is perched upon her knees in prayer next to the mighty tree that holds the souls of many and their connection to the gods. Her hands do not touch it as Gabrielle's do in prayer, but that has less to do with faith and more with heritage. And as such, the Baelish is quick to take her intention, kneeling down with Sansa in front of the tree that marks their newly accepted religion—having agreed to do so upon their reunion just a week prior.
For—while Gabrielle had come to believe whole-heartedly in the faith of the Old Gods—she could not have done so without this strong woman at her side. All those times in King's Landing, spent kneeled before the stump of the godswood with the sounds of the crashing water on cliffs below—a stunt to hide their plotting and secrets when none but the other could be trusted. Sansa had been the one to show her this heritage and this religion, and as she sits there in prayer next to the woman—their nearest hands clasped together—Gabrielle overcomes her emotions to think upon the coming battle.
And with time, the other Starks seem to radiate towards the godswood where the two females have found their peace. At first, it's Bran who is rolled into the godswood by Samwell himself, left to place his hand upon the bark near Gabrielle's head. And then Robb arrives to sit himself down on the rock nearby, planted beneath the boroughs of blooming red leaves that are rich like a torch to the rebellion against Death. And then it is Ned—though he only moves in passing with Arya—as he momentarily watches his children find peace with the Gods, something he'd tried to teach them as mere children but only tragedy can create such devotion.
But in that moment—as Starks come and stay or pass and go—Gabrielle has never felt more like a part of this family. Watched over by Ned. Defended by Robb. Advised by Bran. Practiced by Arya. Embraced by Sansa. And as such, she finds the comfort she needs to fall into the depths of her people, hand rising instinctively to touch the worn yet smooth wood of the godswood tree.
As her mind passes into the lengths of history, she feels the pain radiate from the nerves in her toes to the crown of her head...the pain of the Children as they fought the wights beside the First Men. She feels the pain of the recent years in which the Dead rose again and came to destroy the final Children of the Forest—her mother's people—once protected by the Three Eyed Raven. And she feels her own pain: of that imposed in her youth by her father, that agony created by loss in the recent wars, and that felt in her soul under Jon's betrayal. And it all seems to dull in that moment, as she recognizes the mere travails that are her own plights when compared to those of the past—those of the Long Night.
It is so—that in the moment she recognizes her mere speck in the lengths of history—Gabrielle finds the peace she needs to focus on this arising battle, to focus on her role in defeating the Night King—once and for all. She can feel the strength in her bones that will allow her to spread her wings and take command of both wights and animals. And she feels that pit of magic that sits beneath her sternum, pulsing at full capacity and ready to be harnessed as soon as the horns sound and they march into battle. But most of all, she feels the abnormal beat of her heart and heaving of her lungs that reassure her that she does not belong to Death—that she is alive and can change history on this night.
And as such, Gabrielle's eyes break open as she stands to her feet, and her hand falls from the godswood's white skin. She does not feel the swaying of the sudden change in position as she once did. Instead, it's like her skin and blood is prickling with the magic that runs through her. And Gabrielle can only imagine how bright her eyes must be as they turn to a risen Sansa, seemingly at peace given the resting of her shoulders.
Despite what Gabrielle imagines to be her bone-chilling appearance in that moment, Sansa does not wince nor flinch as she turns to her acquired sister with a smile, looking as radiant as ever and as strong as any queen should. And—as if not weakened by this love she has—Gabrielle smiles and her magic rises within her, pulsing with her heart as Sansa grins back, taking her cold hand between her own.
"You have your dagger?" Gabrielle reassures, looking to this family who has given her safety and comfort through the hardest stretches of her life.
Sansa smirks, "I have two."
And at that, Gabrielle laughs lightly, knowing the other to be that which Arya commissioned for her, surely a sisterly gift when it comes to the Starks. But all the same, Gabrielle knows that the joy will not last as she considers the immediate danger they are all in, whether on the battlefield or in the crypts. And so, she pulls Sansa into an embrace, the girl only slightly taller than her but feeling equal when together. Gabrielle sighs as she imparts what may worry her most, "Make sure you are safe should you try to warg."
Sansa nods at the woman's reminder, not needing to hear so to remember it herself. Yet, Gabrielle was the one who taught her—how to warg into none other than her own direwolf. And while the others know how to as well—Robb and Arya and Bran—Sansa knows that she is perhaps the only one who might have the ability to exercise this tonight...to fight at the side of her sister on the battlefield. And even though Sansa might be at her side, warging into a wolf is not the same as seeing the woman for herself. And Sansa recognizes that this may be the last time she sees Gabrielle through her own eyes, pulling the woman into another embrace that reflects on both their fears.
"I love you, Gabrielle," Sansa whispers into her hair as the winds shift over them, mixing red and white. "You are my sister in love and blood. Thank you for all you've done for our family."
Gabrielle smiles as they pull from the embrace, laying a hand on Sansa's cheek as she stares into her blue eyes, "I love you too, Sansa. Be safe down there."
"Aye, my Queen," Sansa has the gall to wink as Gabrielle laughs wickedly at the treachery that makes them both feel alive. But as ever, such happiness is the call to leave on a good note, and Sansa turns on her heel then to check on the preparations within the Winterfell keep.
Gabrielle watches after Sansa as she disappears around the corner, and then turns to the godswood that lights her skin on fire by sheer glance at what this faith yields within her. And—with that final look—Gabrielle turns on her heel and towards Sansa's departure although with the intended destination of the ramparts where she feels the others are waiting. Looking towards Bran as she leaves, they exchange a nod of recognition at each other's large roles in this battle—similarly empowered through the northern Gods. And then, Gabrielle looks to Robb as she gestures for him to follow, making their way towards the awaiting battle and height of the Winter storm.
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They feel her presence before they hear her. The men—Jon Snow and Ned Stark—find themselves staring at the statue of both mother and sister as the sounds of Daenerys Targaryen's heels resound throughout the crypts that will not be silent on this eve. And while the statue does not truly resemble his sister, Ned is still struck by what has arisen since that moment—when she ran away with the brother of the Dragon Queen now stepping up beside Jon to gaze at the statue. Wars, massacre, treachery, conquests, and disaster. Ned knows his sister created this, yet even now, Ned loves the sister he lost.
"Who's that?" Daenerys asks softly, looking at the grey-skinned woman whose beauty is both potent and cold—and she does not need to identify these Winterfell crypts to know this is a Stark.
Jon sighs as he seemingly stares through the solid statue of his mother, "Lyanna Stark."
"My sister," Ned adds, prying his eyes away to look at Daenerys who seems struck by the name. She remembers the stories of that name—a name that should not have been remembered, and yet it's infamous because of the brother Daenerys never knew.
"My brother, Rhaegar...everyone told me he was decent and kind. He liked to sing. Gave money to poor children," Daenerys remembers, her eyebrows twisting into a state of both despair and contempt as she bluntly imparts what she knows to be true, "And he raped her."
"He didn't. He loved her," Jon counters, his words falling slowly from his lips as the Dragon Queen looks stiffly between Jon and the statue. But as she is in a daze at his words, Jon finds himself strangely empowered by the truth and his heritage, turning to Daenerys and away from his mother as Ned continues to stare at his sister. And—as Gabrielle felt the pulsing of her powers in the godswood—Jon feels the weight of his secret pulsing within his chest, soon to be released for all consequences. So, he continues, "They were married in secret. After Rhaegar fell on the Trident, she had a son."
There is a pause as Jon stutters and Daenerys's breath shortens, Ned Stark feeling the tension on his skin and only then turning to stand next to Jon in this united front to tell the truth. And while much has happened between them—Daenerys and Ned—the man's allegiance towards her is still potent in his eyes, though his actions themselves are far from it. Yet all the same, he finishes the story, "Robert would have murdered the baby if he ever found out, and Lyanna knew it. So, the last thing she did as she bled to death on her birthing bed was give the boy to me to raise as my bastard."
Daenerys's sharp grey eyes bear heavily into the chest of Ned Stark as she stares at the man with betrayal, her heart seen across her face as pain resounds around her very being—knowing they are referring to Jon. And as such, Daenerys's eyes turn then to the bastard who was once her lover, not knowing how to feel. She feels loss despite having gained a family...because not only does this endanger her, it reveals the extent of Ned Stark's betrayal. And though she does not need to hear anything else—to hear the depths of the danger that Jon poses—the man still imparts with bright brown eyes, "My name...my real name is Aegon Targaryen."
Her breath sounds shakily and loudly as she is overcome with emotion, chest having frozen as that name rose from his lips and only now having the urge to continue. She stares at the man—her nephew—that she just discovered after all the years of being alone—and maybe it is due to this fact that Daenerys has to deny, "That's impossible."
"I wish it were," Jon responds, and he truly wishes it were, because Jon is not stupid enough to mistake Daenerys's need for power and how this secret may lead others to support his cause when he wants none of it.
And as Jon has come to understand her, it comes then as no surprise that her grey eyes become beacons of anger and betrayal that seem to resound with hurt, looking to Ned Stark then with emotion bearing upon him and eyes like Drogon's. She hisses, "And I suppose you told him of this?"
"Partially," Ned honestly responds, and he stares into the eyes of a woman he once had hope for. "It was never my wish that anyone learn of it. I intended to go to the grave with this."
"Yet, you didn't," she reminds him, not as a question but a certain statement of fact.
But all the same, Jon turns to Ned Stark with confusion, not having heard this much of his intentions. And at such a look, the previous Hand cannot help feeling irritation wrack his heart as he asks them spitefully, "How could I let my nephew and adopted son commit incest with his aunt? The consequences would be far greater should this have gone any further."
At his uncle's explanation, Jon cannot help but agree with such a thing. And yet Daenerys is far from this mindset as she responds to her previous advisor, "I am not sure that would have been the case."
Both men look to her then with a sense of unease—that her father's madness might have found a home in her. Is that a threat? And yet, she is blind to the men, staring straight at the bastard who endangers her Throne as she refocuses on the immediate issue, "This makes you the last male heir of House Targaryen. You have a claim to the Iron Throne."
A pause breaks across them as winds howl into the crypts, Daenerys breathing like a raging dragon. Then there is the sound of the trickling water below in the hot ponds, and the torch burning back the darkness near the entrance...the only sounds about them. And even though no words are even intended nonetheless spoken—a sound like a call bursts through the lengths Winterfell, and it softly carries through the thick walls of the crypt. The horn.
And what is politics compared to the greatest threat to mankind in a thousand years?
Daenerys is the first to break from the moment, turning and dashing from the scene as her feet carry her up the stairs, rising out into the night sky as voices stream from around the Keep. And yet, it seems almost perfect that the one person Daenerys comes to face is none other than Gabrielle Baelish.
And the woman—the Mock Queen—is not so blind as to miss the anger and betrayal still lurking in the woman's eyes, having seen the three enter the crypts earlier and not needing to be a genius to know what was spoken of. Jon told her of his heritage. And while Gabrielle could argue this is perhaps the worst timing, it is for the best.
While Gabrielle shows nothing of her realization, Daenerys knows better of this woman as she stares from beneath a stone-cold mask like that of Lyanna Stark in the crypts. And as such, Daenerys does not hesitate to storm up to the feet of the woman as the falcon—Valyrion, if she remembers correctly—lands upon Gabrielle's shoulder and fails to phase the woman even in the slightest. But ignoring that, Daenerys hisses with anger, "And you knew as well, I suppose?"
"My father told me everything," Gabrielle nods easily and with little emotion as Daenerys is once again reminded of the threat Petyr Baelish was—only slightly grateful then for Sansa Stark's actions.
But how long did Gabrielle know this? While she cannot read behind the woman's complacent mask, Daenerys supposes the man must have told her when they were still on good terms...so nearly ten years ago. And thus—a laugh crackles in her throat as she recognizes how Gabrielle never told Jon, and maybe then, neither of them have learned anything in their time apart. But—seeing the question in Gabrielle's eyes—she feels the need to bring the girl down, barking, "I always wondered why you chose Jon Snow when you could have anyone in this world. But it all make sense now."
Gabrielle's eyebrows furrow then in an obviously fake bout of confusion that plays into Daenerys's true perception, responding with an edge, "I don't know why everyone just supposes I want to rule. If I did, I would be on the Throne now...don't be fooled. I have no interest in the throne. Just the man."
She is completely serious, and that much is absolutely clear to Daenerys even as she registers the threat made about her own power. How can she still love a man who betrayed her many times over? And perhaps it is only in that moment that Daenerys is able to piece together what makes them—Gabrielle and Daenerys—so connected: both have been betrayed by their confidant for someone else.
Looking into Gabrielle's bright eyes—her own face expressing something close to compassion—Daenerys sees the scars that rest there...like her own. And maybe that gives her a surge of confidence—because Gabrielle must have recognized it herself—as she asks the imperative question, "We've never gotten along, and I doubt we ever will, should we succeed. But you know what it's like to have someone, to have a family. Viserion was my child. If you can save him, please do."
Gabrielle stares at her in a moment of silence that is only quaked by the shouting of men and screaming of children as they are all forced to their stations upon this darkening night. But Gabrielle is entranced with Daenerys's eyes, seeing the genuine plea for the life of her child. And though she cannot—and will not—connect herself to Daenerys through the similar betrayal they've experienced, she can appreciate the connection between a mother and her monstrous children.
Yet all the same, Gabrielle knows other people in her life are at risk tonight—that the others are her main concern—and thus she reasons with the woman under a firm tone, "Should Jon befall an accident on this eve, Viserion will rise to a new rider, and I will murder all you hold dear." Gabrielle pauses and lets the woman hear her before continuing: "But otherwise, I will do all I can to save him and keep the other two from his grasp. I once promised you that, and I don't easily forsake promises."
Gabrielle stares at the woman for a mere second that feels like hours as they feel themselves united in a similar purpose to save the dragon lost to this queen. And while they are far from friends or even allies—they are not enemies, and so Daenerys nods at the woman's offer and moves on with a severe countenance that reflects bargaining with the devil herself.
And—as if waiting for Daenerys's departure—Jon rises from the darkness of the stairs with a severe expression as the shouting grows louder, reminding Gabrielle that she must get to her station. And while she thought he intended to speak to her on this eve of battle, not all is well within the immediate bounds of their relationship, and there are more important things that both must do. Prepare the lands, gather the armies, find the dragons. Truly, the magic in her heart is all but burning to begin this battle as the horns call and bells toll loudly—all but deafened to her ears as she stares at the man she loves, reminded of all the emotions she tried to extinguish earlier.
But, perhaps the emotions are not as terrible as she wanted to believe. Perhaps they are not a distraction but a catalyst to her passion. And she knows that she cannot ride into battle without some last words. Despite having moved on from their past by forgiving him, she knows that there's more between them than forgiveness...even now. And as such, her icy hand reaches out as he passes her, grabbing his hand to stop him and then dropping his touch all the same as he stares in wonder at her.
"Be safe. We need our king," Gabrielle tells him with a pause, thinking of earlier and just how much she misses him. And maybe it's because they both recognize what destroyed their relationship last time, but Gabrielle feels that she must address it, promising him, "Should we survive this, no lie to you shall ever pass my lips again. I swear."
And maybe it's the genuine look in her blue eye that Gabrielle needs him or the fact she has grown beyond 'needing to lie for Jon's own good' to 'I needn't lie to the man I love.' But Jon is lost to her promises then and there, and he moves in with a fatal swoop, their eyes a mere centimeter apart—brown to blue—and she can feel his breath on her lips like the warm sun on a frozen pond. His hands cup the back of her head beneath the tresses that make her shine like a beacon of hope, and with such force as needing this, Jon pulls her into a deep kiss that they both missed deeply. And it's an instant fire between them like it once was as she immediately reciprocates, and they nearly bite at each other in their passionate return to something more than just intended, lips caressing the other's with a desperation of being apart so long in the darkest part of their lives. And yet, another horn sounds...like a reminder to what lies ahead, and so they break apart in due fear of what awaits—and yet persist to look deep into the eyes of each another.
"I love you," Jon promises as she pulls away from him. And while she is willing to share it, the betrayal stings even now...
So instead, she gently replies with, "Be safe."
And Jon understands her words, both nodding at each other before splitting as she bolts down the stairs to the courtyard below, preparing for this war to end Winter.
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Next chapter is the battle, so get psyched! As usual, let me know what you think :)
XO
Patagonian