DAENERYS

"I'm having a hard time seeing any kind of intelligence in your plans, Lord Tyrion. What exactly did you expect when you tried to make a deal with the slave masters? That they would just smile and walk away with their wallets and stomachs full? Did you even think about it at all?"

Daenerys scowled as the Lannister appeared to dismiss her complaints, casually taking a sip of wine before responding in a condescending manner.

"I am unable to foresee the actions of every person, and I believed that their overwhelming desire for wealth would outweigh any other motives, such as seeking revenge. How could I have anticipated their assault on the city?"

"If you had taken the time to get to know the people here, you might have gained better understanding. However, you chose to make an agreement with slave owners in my name, granting them riches and enabling them to persist in the detestable act of slavery. Without my arrival alongside the Dothraki and my dragons yesterday, the outcome could have been uncertain. What was the death toll among innocent civilians during the assault on Meereen by the Sons of the Harpy?"

Tyrion was unable to provide an answer to her, but it was Ser Barristan who responded quietly.

"The count is approximately two hundred and forty-seven, your Grace, although it could be increasing."

Daenerys felt a wave of nausea and horror as she thought about the people who had died, wishing she could have saved them. When she opened her eyes, she saw Tyrion looking indifferent to the number given by her Queensguard, and she could sense the fiery determination within her.

"For the next few weeks, you will oversee the burial of each civilian who died during the siege, and personally help dig their graves. Until the last person is buried, you will remain in the pyramid You'll be sleeping with people outside of. Anywhere in my council."

Tyrion scowled at her in disbelief, as it was his turn to do so.

"I am much better equipped to give advice rather than dig graves."

Daenerys stood up from the desk and walked towards the balcony, dismissing the Lannister with what she said.

"You will do as I command, or you can remain here in Meereen under guard when I leave for Westeros, and Casterly Rock can go to whomever I see fit. Leave the pyramid and begin your duties as gravedigger tonight, Lord Tyrion."

She did not turn around when a chair was pushed back and a door closed, allowing the warm winds to surround her briefly. The sound of chain mail could be heard as Ser Barristan also stepped out onto the balcony, prompting her to face him and speak in a questioning tone.

"Have I been too hard on Lord Tyrion?"

The older knight paused momentarily, while Daenerys patiently waited. He was well aware that she prioritized sincere advice rather than insincere compliments or unquestioning allegiance.

"It was a unique but fair punishment. How did you come up with this idea, Your Grace?

"I had a feeling that Tyrion Lannister's pride is excessively large, and it is not something I can benefit from. Spending a few weeks with the common folk should assist in diminishing it."

Barristan nodded but said nothing more. In truth, Dany herself wasn't sure where the thought had come from, but ever since she emerged from the fire in Vaes Dothrak, things had felt different to her. They were subtle, but like the night her children had hatched, she had felt reborn. Ser Barristan coughed for a moment before saying, almost reluctantly:

"I apologize for the fact that Ser Jorah and Daario were unable to come back with you to Meereen."

"If this is a cure, Jorah will find it. As for Dario, the less said the better."

A few nights after Dany had inspired the Dothraki with Drogon, they celebrated with a big party on the way back to Meereen. That night, she danced freely among her people, enjoying a break from her duties as queen. She briefly thought about looking for her lover, but he was nowhere to be found. The next morning, her new bloodriders found his body trampled by horses after he had wandered into their field while drunk. Some Dothraki believed the horses had intentionally charged at him, but she dismissed the idea. She pushed thoughts of him aside and smiled at her loyal knight.

"It is late, Ser Barristan, and I would like to rest. Grey Worm and Blue Snail can take over guard duty for the night."

"Your Grace, I am sworn to protect you."

Dany leaned over and placed her hand on his arm.

"Ser Barristan, you are still in the process of recovering from the wounds you sustained during the ambush. It is important that you rest and allow yourself to fully recover. I will summon you tomorrow for our meeting with the Greyjoys."

Ser Barristan nodded and walked away, leaving Dany alone by the fireplace. She sat for a moment, enjoying the evening before eventually going to bed, feeling alone for the first time in weeks. However, she was soon joined by her shadowy lover in her dreams. This reunion felt different, more vivid and real than before. As she felt his presence behind her, she closed her eyes and embraced the dream. But when he leaned over her, she felt a strange sensation reminiscent of her time in the House of the Undying. Afraid of sorcery, Daenerys forced herself to open her eyes and was met with a pair of dark grey eyes looking down at her with such a tender and caring expression that she nearly cried. It was only then that she was able to see his eyes.

The next morning, she waited for the Greyjoys, unable to shake the image of her shadowy lover's grey eyes from her mind. Afraid of losing focus during the important meeting, she mustered her courage and quietly called out to Ser Barristan.

I have a strange inquiry for you, Ser Barristan.

"Whatever it is, ask your Excellency."

"Are there any houses or regions in Westeros where people have gray eyes?"

She could see the old knight visibly react with shock, but he quickly composed himself. At first, she thought he was going to lie, as the signs of his distress were clear, but then he relaxed and spoke clearly.

"Gray eyes are a very common characteristic of House Stark, Your Excellency."

Before she could process it, the doors were opened and two Greyjoys entered the room, followed by two other unexpected individuals that Daenerys was surprised to see. Quaithe, wearing her red mask and possessing all-seeing eyes, stood in front of her with a beautiful sword at her side. However, Quaithe's focus was on the young girl standing beside her, as she had eyes almost identical in color to those of the man from her dreams.

JON

Upon waking up suddenly, he found himself clutching a dagger and nearly stabbing an innocent person. After realizing it was Davos, he promptly released his grip and apologized.

"It's okay, sir. I should have known better than to surprise you."

"What's happening?"

Davos frowned briefly, but then shook his head and resumed speaking.

"Jarick says that one of his men has reported seeing something. We are currently waiting in the command tent nearby."

As Davos left his tent, Jon retreated to the furs briefly to catch his breath. Despite it being just a dream, he could still sense the aches and marks he had left on his Aunt during their encounter. Since Karhold, his dreams had been consumed by her silver hair and violet eyes, with the rocking of the boat being a constant presence. He wished he could return to sleep in the hopes of seeing her again. He acknowledged the taboo nature of their relationship but reasoned that inter-family marriages were common in Westeros. He questioned if the woman in his dreams was truly his Aunt or simply a figment of his imagination. Despite his uncertainty, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was his Aunt. With his advisers waiting for him, he snapped out of his reverie, dressed quickly, and made his way to the command tent.

The group standing over the map was in a grim mood, and he quickly understood why when he saw markers of the flayed man being placed on the road towards the Dreadfort, their destination. Jarick was also present, moving pieces instead of the others.

"Did your warg scouts see something, Jarick?"

"Ah, King Crow. They are sending troops to support the Dreadfort. They will be here in a few days."

"How many soldiers?" Lord Amber asked.

Jarick shrugged his shoulders.

"Animals do not possess the ability to count. It seemed that a greater number of soldiers were leaving Winterfell than those remaining. I would estimate that over half of them were leaving."

Lord Glover suggested that if they were to place their soldiers near the Lonely Hills, they could stand and face the enemy army, which ranges from three to four thousand in number.

To the surprise of the group, Jon shook his head.

"We will not confront them in battle, at least for now."

"Your Majesty, I know their plan is to sneak past the Dreadfort and make their way to White Harbor via Widow's Watch, but with their armies bearing down on us, we cannot ignore them."

"I do not plan to ignore this army. If Jarick is correct, Ramsay has sent most of his troops to protect his home. Once we defeat them, only a small force will be left in Winterfell. Tormund, do you believe your people can fight in this type of terrain, similar to how the Free Folk fight?"

Tormund grunted and approached the map, while Mors Umber reluctantly allowed him to pass. After briefly examining the map, he nodded in agreement with Jon.

"These hills are similar to the ones we used to hunt in the real north. Do you want us to prepare a surprise for them?"

"Yes, gather a group of Free Folk and hide in the hills. I want you to attack them constantly as they travel, but avoid direct combat. Ambush them on the road, then retreat. Destroy their tents, contaminate their food, and steal their horses while they rest. Take advantage of the winter conditions and your people's skills in fighting. Keep up the attacks for a few days, then withdraw."

Tormund nodded and went to gather the men and women he was bringing on his raid. For a brief moment, silence filled the command tent as everyone looked at Jon with astonishment.

"Do you have anything to say?"

Most of them turned their eyes away momentarily, but Lord Umber and Glover finally looked directly at him, and Jon could perceive a hint of respect and caution in their gaze.

"A bold plan, your lordship, although a dishonest one."

"During times of peace, I can focus on preserving honor, but in war, my priority is winning. If you disagree with this, you are free to leave and face the consequences of betrayal."

"That's not what we say, Your Grace. It's just that you remind us of your grandfather when we were boys with your Uncle Brandon."

Jon nodded to show his appreciation, then expressed his frustration by growling while looking at the map.

"We must make haste to reach White Harbor in order to prevent the weddings between the Freys and their Granddaughters. If we fail to stop this army, they will pursue us relentlessly to the Neck."

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone looked at the map, until Davos Seaworth moved closer to examine the Dreadfort and spoke softly.

"How close does the Weeping Water get to the walls of the Dreadfort?"

"Close enough to run away in desperation, but it is flat and open ground. If someone looks, you can easily see him," Hother Umber grumbled.

"What if they weren't looking? What if everyone in the Dreadfort stared at the other wall?"

"What are you talking about, Ser Davos?"

"If your savage allies can hold off the Bolton army at the Lonely Hills long enough, we can make our way to the Dreadfort, on the opposite side of the river. I know there are some supply ships hugging the coast, and I think we can. Get one to come ashore, then arrive." To this river while the siege continues."

Jon smiled, pleased to witness the fruition of his faith in the Onion Knight. Silently, he rearranged the Stark wolf figurines, deliberately placing one adjacent to the Dreadfort.

"Can you get a ship close enough?"

"There will probably be a few small boats, but I think I can do it. Oh my god, I made it past the Redwine siege at Storm's End, and they were looking for me."

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Jon could only see blood as he sliced a man's throat, swiftly ending his life. Without hesitation, he dodged, narrowly avoiding an axe swing, and then forcefully pushed a Bolton soldier off the walls of the Dreadfort. Despite the protests, Jon had volunteered himself to lead the group in scaling the walls, disregarding everyone's opinions and simply boarding the boat. Davos' expertise in stealth and his plan to divert attention from the Dreadfort had proven to be successful, and Jon had already killed nearly three men before the alarm was raised. A few Glover and Umber men, accompanied by a defected cook's servant, had hurriedly made their way to the Gatehouse, while Jon and the others fended off the small number of soldiers inside the Dreadfort. The distant sounds of a fierce battle occurring on the other side of the castle could still be heard, although Jon believed the noises were drawing nearer. Taking a moment to survey his surroundings, Jon spotted a tall man wearing steel greaves issuing commands, and he knew that this man would be his next target.

Their fight was short, with the man unaware of Jon's approach from behind as he swiftly decapitated him. The others tried to resist, but Jon's skill and anger quickly defeated them. Some even surrendered and the castle gates were now open, with Jon's commanders and soldiers flooding in. Ghost, Jon's direwolf, was by his side, and he knelt down to find comfort in the familiar presence. Turning to face those who had surrendered, he sensed their fear. Galbart Glover and Mors Umber approached him, their faces showing a mix of seriousness and poorly concealed fear.

Mors muttered that Tormund, your Wildling, had found them just before the siege began the day before. Tormund's men had spent the last few days ambushing and slaughtering the Bolton army, leaving less than a thousand survivors who were now making their way back to Winterfell. Mors was certain that Ramsay would be furious about the situation.

Jon's face had an almost feral grin.

"I intend to make him even angrier. Gather everyone in the Dreadfort and lead it outside its walls. Strip the castle of all its valuables and then scatter tar and oil everywhere."

"Your Grace?"

"Burn everything down. I want the flames to burn so brightly that Winterfell can see them. I want Ramsay to do nothing but watch his rejected home burn."

Jon observed from the shores of the Weeping Water as the Dreadfort blazed, illuminating the nearby night sky to a nearly daytime level of brightness. Without uttering a word, Gawen Glover and Ned Umber silently lugged a heavy wooden stump and positioned it beside him, their young faces displaying solemn and grim expressions. Eventually, Jon turned around and noticed the imprisoned soldiers of the Dreadfort, bound and shackled, gazing at him with fear and horror. He realized that his presence, outlined by the fiery backdrop of the Dreadfort and accompanied by Ghost, must have been a terrifying spectacle. With a single gesture towards the wooden stump, he spoke loudly, his voice carrying over the crackling of the flames.

"You have two options. Either you kneel down and take the black, or you kneel down and I take your head. Either way, you will kneel."

The prisoners initially murmured among themselves, but eventually many of them knelt with their heads down. Jon observed this for a moment before reluctantly giving the signal. Longclaw executed twenty seven individuals that night, not including the commander. Throughout the executions, Jon recited the Last Words ritual and ignored any pleas for mercy. He made it clear that he would not show leniency to any traitor. After the executions were complete, Jon handed his sword to his stewards and approached the shocked Onion Knight.

"When can we set sail down the river?"

"A few hours, Your Grace."

"Ensure that the preparations only last for an hour. After all, we have a Frey wedding to ruin in White Harbor."