BRAN

“One more drink before the war?” The famously known dwarf of the Six Kingdoms finished his toast, hoping the members of the council would join in. The Lord of Highgarden responded to his old friend by raising his cup in the air “One more drink before the war.” The King however, was not amused. Today’s council meeting drained him worse than yesterday’s, just like that one did the one before. 

The most recent update coming from the North caused the King to withdraw from any kingly activity, except his council meetings. Since his Hand spent most of his time drinking, instead of fulfilling his duties, the future strategies and matters of the Six Kingdoms fell into his own hands. Measures had to be taken and fast. Even though the Queen in the North was the only one to outsmart the Free Folk, winning a battle, she was still losing the war. Even after the slaughter during the sleeping hours of the savages, numbers prevailed strategy, outnumbering her armies by twice to say the least. Before being slaughtered to the last, the northmen managed to pass the gates of White Harbor and run for their life. Of course, the gates closed with the better part of them trapped inside the walls, awaiting their guide to the indefinite dark lands. Sansa Stark was losing the North and the King, her brother, could do nothing about it. 

Furthermore, troubling news came from the South as well. Bronn, the master of coin and Lord of Highgarden attended this council meeting with one goal only - requesting reinforcements. The Dornish rebellious army was marching North and Highgarden was in their way. Their final destination was yet to be discovered, but seeing as how they sought independence, the King’s council agreed their path led to King’s Landing.

 However, the man under the crown carried a far greater burden on his shoulders than stopping one rebellious army marching towards the capital - stopping two. An Iron Fleet of few thousand was sailing towards them. The pride preventing these two treacherous armies to unite as one, was the only comfort the King found. Maybe the time for a surprise attack from the Royal fleet and Lord Gendry Baratheon’s army was now, before the Iron Fleet sails past Storm’s End and attacks the capital from the waters whilst the Dornish attack from land. Only of course, it was not that simple, it was never that simple. The better part of the Royal fleet and the gold cloaks were across the Narrow Sea, on a dragon hunt. So, the King had two powerful armies marching towards him, no army to defend the capital, nevermind to oblige Bronn’s request; his sister losing her own war and yet, there was something else that preoccupied his thoughts. Someone else. 

When yet another council meeting proved of no avail, the King dismissed all but his Hand. Doubting his words would, in any way, affect the drunken fool sitting across him, Bran stared at the man, he once admired, with disgust. The man who gave him hope when all hope seemed lost, the man who made riding possible when his legs betrayed him, the man who asked if he needed help when no one else would, the man interested in his long story and  also the man who put him in this position he abhorred. Yet the King felt sharing the secret from the East Lands with another, might ease his trouble, so he spoke “She is alive.”

The drunk dwarf laid his empty cup on the table, sulking like a child whose toy just broke. “I am happy for her, whoever she may be.” Jumping out of the seat, he spread his arms wide before reaching for more wine. This time, he decided there was no need of a cup and took a big sip out of the jug instead.

“Your former Queen.” To Bran’s surprise, the words did in fact affect Tyrion… only not in the way he had hoped they would. The dwarf burst in laughter, spitting the wine all over himself, adding a little more to the disgust in the King’s eyes. His stern expression seemed to have died down the laughter.

“She is not alive” Tyrion wiggled his butt back in the seat, resting his elbow on the table and pointing a finger to his King. “And do you know how I know that, your Grace?” He stopped as if waiting for a question, but when it did not come, he continued “Simple. If she were alive, I’d be dead.”

“She is alive and so is Jon. They are together with her Unsullied and Dothraki. Why do you think Drogon’s attacks have died down? It’s because of her. His mother is back.” 

“So… she is alive, she got Drogon back, she got her armies back and the one who killed her is next to her and yet she takes no revenge? Even sober, that would make me laugh.” 

He is terrified, concluded the crippled boy. So terrified that he distrusted his own King. Well maybe the fact of Daenerys Targaryen being back from the dead played a part too. And maybe he had every right to be terrified. Bran, himself, had a hard time believing his own raven eyes as he stared at the human shaped fire. Why was Jon there… alive? How? How was she alive? How was she fire in human skin? Too many questions with no answers.

The longer Bran talked, the more the fear in Tyrion’s eyes grew, sobering him up. Perhaps he had lost his wits and was a drunken fool, but he still valued his life and feared death. Even though he always found a way to survive, maybe even Tyrion could not cheat death for too long. And he, himself seemed to agree. “Sometimes I wonder, if any of this would be happening if she had lived and I died. Even months after her death, she still finds a way to linger in this world, in our thoughts, in her children, in her armies… Maybe all we did was rob this world from peacefulness.” 

“No” the crippled boy disagreed. “Her death was necessary.” When the King noticed the confusion in Tyrion’s eyes, he continued “...we all have parts to play... and you played yours. Now leave me.” Squinting his eyes in doubt, the Hand obeyed his King without a question, closing the door behind him.

When he was alone, Bran gazed upon the endless blue sea stretching below his window before taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes. A fierce, torrid heat consumed him, pulling him, drawing him in deeper. The more he fought against it, the more magnetic it was. When it grabbed hold of him, the pain tore him from within, trapping him with no escape, seizing his way back to his own body. Only for a heartbeat, the city of Volantis opened below him, the waves crashing against the Long Bridge, composing a terrifying, yet beautiful last sound to disappear to. 

>> Chapter 27: JON