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No one could match Horus's speed.
Breathing fire from the sky, he sent Victarion's fleet scattering in panic. Without servants of the Drowned God to shield them from his flames, the Ironborn had no way to fight back.
With Horus soaring overhead, he could burn them however he pleased.
"Horus! Horus!"
Suddenly, he heard someone calling to him.
Looking down, he saw Brienne. She had been sent to Riverrun. Podrick was with her, along with another man, all three of them crammed into a tiny boat that looked ready to capsize at any moment as the waves battered it.
Seeing the state of the sea, Horus had no choice but to rescue them first.
By the time he pulled them to safety, Victarion's fleet had long since vanished.
So in the end, Horus simply carried the three of them back north.
…
"Move, all of you! Start building ships. Every woman on these islands is to start sewing sails. I'm taking everything worth taking from the Iron Islands and leaving."
Victarion shouted the order at the top of his lungs.
That fire-breathing giant eagle was impossible to defeat.
Maybe, just maybe, the three dragons across the Narrow Sea could bring it down. Victarion had already decided where he would go next.
…
At the same time, the Twins had become a slaughterhouse.
Bodies of Freys lay everywhere.
The figure seated at the high table reached up and removed the mask from her face.
Under it was Arya.
"If anyone asks what happened here," she said coldly, "tell them the North remembers, Winter is coming."
Arya had stepped onto the stage at last.
And House Frey was all but wiped out.
…
Arya intended to ride south to King's Landing and kill Cersei.
Alone on horseback, wrapped in a black cloak, she looked utterly solitary.
Then she heard singing from the trees nearby.
A group of young men in red cloaks sat together, singing softly around a fire.
"Girl, are you hungry? We've got rabbit stew to share."
One of them spotted her and called out warmly.
"I'd guess you don't have much food yourselves," Arya replied.
"My mother always said that if you treat strangers kindly, kindness comes back to you. So tell us, girl… where are you headed?"
"King's Landing," Arya said. "It can't be that bad, can it?"
One of the men laughed grimly.
"If you like the smell of rot and blood, then no, I suppose it isn't so bad. King's Landing's a hellhole now. If a tooth were worth a copper, people there would be murdering each other for jaws full of them."
He looked at her more closely.
"But I am curious, why would a girl be traveling to King's Landing alone?"
Arya answered without hesitation.
"To kill the queen."
The group stared at her.
Then burst out laughing.
Plenty of people wanted Cersei dead.
But a girl like this, alone on the road?
Who would believe it?
…
Arya spent the night in their camp.
There, she learned that not everyone cared for war. Some people only wanted to survive it.
The next day, she continued south and reached the Inn at the Crossroads.
A familiar place.
Arya stared into the distance, lost in old memories. She had wiped out House Frey, but it hadn't brought her any real satisfaction.
Then a familiar voice called out.
"Arry?"
"Hot Pie?"
Against all odds, she had run into someone she knew.
…
"You're going to King's Landing?" Hot Pie said, staring at her. "I thought you'd be heading to Winterfell."
"Why would I go to Winterfell?" Arya replied. "Roose Bolton holds it."
Arya said it lightly, as if it meant nothing.
"Who told you that? Listen…" Hot Pie glanced around, then lowered his voice, cautious and conspiratorial.
"A while back, that big woman knight passed through here. She wasn't speaking loudly, but I heard enough."
"The Boltons are dead. Winterfell belongs to House Stark again. And I heard her mention Lord Eddard and the Young Wolf, Robb."
"You're lying."
"Why would I lie?" Hot Pie frowned. "No news has come out of the North in a long time, and everyone says that isn't normal."
"The only family that could lock the whole North down that tight is House Stark. That's what people are saying."
Arya's heart kicked hard in her chest.
Go north.
She had to go north.
She had to see for herself what had happened.
"Thanks for the pie." She reached for her coin pouch.
"Friends don't pay."
…
"What do you mean Robb Stark rules the North now? He died."
"As you can see, he didn't." Jaime set the raven's message down on the table. "Not only Robb. Ned Stark, Catelyn Stark. None of them are dead."
The message had been sent out by Victarion Greyjoy just before he fled. He had hoped the news would buy him time.
It had worked.
Every eye in the realm turned toward the North.
Even Daenerys, who had been preparing to sail across the Narrow Sea, shifted her attention there.
…
A violet gleam flashed in Jimmy's eyes, and Bran's condition became instantly clear.
Greenseer.
But then what was that sleeping Bran behind him?
Bran's state was unusual. Perhaps after discovering the changes at Winterfell, the Greenseer had chosen not to cast Bran's soul into the river of history to be ground away, but instead sealed it into sleep and set it aside.
The Greenseer, now returned, had quickly realized something was wrong.
Ned. Robb. Catelyn. Talisa. Ygritte.
People who should have died were all still alive.
How was he supposed to become King of the Seven Kingdoms like this?
Clearly, more careful planning would be needed.
And then there was Jimmy.
He burned like a living inferno, fiercer even than Azor Ahai, the Lord of Light's cast-off shell from ages past.
Yet he was also different from the Lord of Light.
Still, it was obvious Jimmy had not yet met the conditions for true godhood, and knew nothing of how divinity really worked.
That eased the Greenseer's mind somewhat.
So long as he had not crossed that threshold, he was still only mortal.
Still only prey.
Jimmy, on the other hand, was not entirely sure how to handle Bran's situation.
Killing Bran would be easy.
But if the Greenseer could simply jump to a new vessel, then what?
Where would Jimmy go looking for him after that?
Better to wait for the Lord of Light to arrive and figure it out together.
Still, he needed a backup plan.
The Greenseer. The Lord of Light. Even the Stranger.
Jimmy trusted none of them.
Meanwhile, Ned and Catelyn had begun to notice that their son felt… wrong.
Cold.
Detached.
Almost as if he were no longer fully alive.
They had tried speaking with him more than once, but every answer had come back distant and emotionless, without any warmth a son should show his family.
Robb, Rickon, Sansa, and Jon had all gone to see him as well.
It made no difference.
He remained as cold as winter stone.
Oddly, the only person he seemed genuinely interested in was Jimmy.
He asked question after question about him.
And then Arya arrived.
With her return, Winterfell finally dissolved into joy.
For the first time since the Starks had ridden south, the family was together again beneath one roof.
It was the kind of sight that made the whole castle feel alive.
"The Knight of the Laughing Tree." Arya grinned as she greeted Jimmy.
A violet light flickered in Jimmy's eyes.
A holy maiden of the House of Black and White, ritual incomplete.
"Good to see you, Arya," Jimmy said. "Judging by the way you carry yourself, you've learned quite a bit."
"We can test that," Arya shot back, confidence blazing.
A chorus of surprised voices rose around them.
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