A Chronicle of Smoke and Salt

“Dinner has been served, my Lady”

Arya Stark gets startled. She had been looking into the horizons for minutes. Or hours mayhaps? She could not recall. Somebody, someone used to address her in that way. She does not want to recall.

“Do not call me my Lady”

The northern sailor from White Harbor nods and turns away. He is one of the youngest in the ship. Sailing is not much popular in the North. The men from White Harbor are more used to short distance commercial trips than this long uncertain journey, and Arya did not receive much help from the Ironborn after the threat she made. That is not a problem. She would do with whoever she gets.

Today was a flesh day with stewed Capon, dried peas and ale in the meal. If they were at land, this might have been the first day of Spring, the weather out there at the day hinted less clouds and a relatively strong sun compared to what the sailors experienced the last few months. An air of relief and joy was around the table, at least they would not have to fear the winter storms. Some of the sailors started singing. One of them looked at Arya Stark a bit apprehensive in case she does not allow this merriment. Arya gave out the slightest hint of smile that anyone can give. But that was sufficient.

Arose she high, arose she high

With the four-head beast she leaped to sky

From the straits of fair isles

They flew away far off leagues and miles..

“What does a four-head beast even look like?” one of the drunk soldiers cut in.

“Ah, ain’t a beast.” the one who answered had a strange accent that Arya could not recall from anyone she knew in Westeros or Essos. Is this guy from the Summer Isles? Or the Citadel?

“T’was Lady Elissa Farman and her three friends. The dragon princess Rhaena Targaryen, Lady Alayne Royce and Lady Stokeworth. The young lord called them four-head beast. From that a bard picked it up perhaps.”

“And why would some sweet ladies earn that name?” Another drunk sailor retorted. Arya gave a quick and sharp look. It was common notion in the ships that their captain dislikes ladies and soft references associated to them, and still they do that mistake always. But it was a spring night, and the cauldrons ran full of ale, so it was ok mayhaps, Arya thought.

“They flew around always with the dragon princess. That was before Lady Elissa abandoned her and stole her dragon eggs. Before she sailed of to the Sunset sea in search of new, like our Lady Stark.”

“And what happened after that?”

“Nobody knows. They sailed with three ships. Only one returned to Oldtown. The captain said there was a huge storm..”

Out in the deck, a watchman looks worried into the evening horizon, a smoke of cloud is taking shape at the corner of the sky. Not a good sign. Is it time to blow horns?

“..and one of the ships got lost. Then they found three islands. Full of strange beasts. Lady Elissa went further, but the captain of the returned ship refused and fled with his crew back to Oldtown.”

“And then?”

“Nobody knows what happened then. She never returned”

“But she might return some day, your grace.” Lord Gendry insisted, “If you would not mind me asking, have you tried sending ravens to her direction?”

“We did” Queen Sansa replied, a bit curious about the question from the blacksmith boy, now Lord of Storms End, “Courtesy of the clever trick of that woman who called herself Dragon Queen” she thought, “Why is he so much interested in Arya?“. She asked the favor of Lord Gendry to give her a few good smith hands to help rebuild Winterfell, but she did not expect that he will himself come along with them from all the way South. And it is Arya’s stories he is most interested in from the moment he stepped in.

“And..?”

“They all returned. No scrolls, no news, no sighting of her fleets. Not in any port North or South”

The new Lord clearly seemed disappointed. “I hope my men would serve your purpose, your grace. If you allow, may I start my way back tomorrow?” Is it then her sister all the way he traveled for instead of sending his men? “My people, my new people are waiting for me.”

Sansa nodded curtly. She had seen Arya to gossip with the blacksmith boy when he was still just a smith. Before the war, before the great war. But that was a different time. Everything changed after the war. Not that everything she can complain for. She is the queen of the North now, and North is independent. But independence has its own price to keep. Who said that? Sansa could not remember. Was it Lord Baelish?

She didn’t want to recall.

Lord Gendry courteously nodded and went away in straight long strides. The boy resembles his father Robert Baratheon so much in their eyes. Sansa remembered the King, a drunk jolly king. He asked her father for their houses to be joined.

A thought suddenly crossed her mind. What if Arya was also interested in this boy? Will this boy be able ever to bring her weird sister back? Not that she misses her much, but.. yes she does. She misses her strength, her support beside now that Ser Brienne has been promoted to Lady Commander of the Kingsguard in King Bran’s court. She misses her arrogant straight looks that would read everything in your mind inside out. What was the name of the game she used to play? A game of faces. “We never stopped playing” she said once to her.

So many games to play. The game of thrones is over now, but there are new ones rushing in.

The other day in the Winterfell hall they discussed about who will take charge of the Last Hearth, Karholds, and Bear Islands. There was a mess. And slowly the court moved over to a chaotic debate between the houses, until Maester Wolkan entered with a scroll, almost to Sansa’s relief.

“Pardon me your grace. We have a raven from Castle Black.”

“What is it?”

“Your brother, Jon Snow, he left Castle Black with the wildlings to the Lands of Always Winter to survey it. He will be surveying the land and place the wildlings over that land.”

“But how? No one yet can permanently live there. It is too cold.”

“Your grace, the weather has changed, so is the land.”

The fist stood there, bare, naked of ice. At first, it took some time for Jon to recognize the place. Once it was covered in ice and snow, now there is a vast green land lying beyond him.

The freefolk were excited, so was Ghost. As they were settling their tents for a camp in the night, he ran after wild prizes.

“You were right. He likes it here.” Tormund said as they watched over Ghost from high.

“He would. He is of the north.” Jon replied

“You are not.” Tormund’s opportunism in teasing Jon to be less Northerner was predictable to Jon by now, he knew it was coming. “You southerners always have pushed us to here in the cold. Now the winter is over, we are rich, more rich than any of your Southern lords can think.”

“I told you before. I am from North. Winterfell is North.”

That night as they gathered around near the fire, Jon in his tent drew out a paper, circled their spots covered on the way to the North, further and further beyond. He has to see what lies further North, or what lay before. Her sister has gone her way to west of Westeros, and his is to find the North of the Northern lands known. “The planet is round” Sam once told him, he read that in some book in Castle Black library perhaps, or at the Hornhills. If that is so, won’t he reach South going more North? Won’t Arya reach East at some point of time? Sometimes, different roads lead to the same castle. Hope it is not a burning castle this time.

All of a sudden, the thought of Daenerys came to his mind. She was looking at his face, in wonder, in astonishment, stabbed by him but still holding him for support, hugging him strongly. She could not believe it, her eyes could not believe it.

“And she never wanted to leave..” one of the nights watchmen accompanying them was singing beside the fire. “Never wanted to leave”. The boy had a sweet voice, but perhaps not as sweet as the big woman Ser Brienne’s square had, Tormund thought. “She did want to leave me though”, sighed he, “and went to the capital with her square”.

Podrick moved Bran’s wheelchair to the Kingswood. Much of the forest burned with the fire, but not the heart tree. Podrick gently moved the chair near to the heart tree. The King will go now. Podrick always stares in amazement when the King rolls his eyes up and goes. Sometimes it is for a few seconds, sometimes hours. Crows took flight from the heart tree. For some reason there are always crows around whenever the King goes, Podrick has noticed, he felt a little cold as a slight grey mist moved through the Kingswood.

First the shadows covered the port, then covered the shops inside the long bridge of Volantis. Is it already evening? Or is a cloud or storm? Shopkeepers tried to look through their small window holes peeping out from the bridge.

It was a dragon, the largest ever they could imagine from stories heard bedtime.

Drogon circled around the city for a few times. Then slowly, very slowly, carefully landed down in front of the red temple, putting Daenerys’s lifeless body as gently as an egg in front of the red door where they were waiting.

All of them.

Kinvara nodded. Drogon looked at her and screeched an appeal of a candlefire that is about to be put out. He has served as the servant of the Lord of Light for now. He has melted the iron throne, brought his mother to the place she would be safe, he knew.

Other servants of the Lord came forward and gently took Daenerys’s body inside the red door. Drogon leaped to the sky.

Bran came back from his vision. He nodded to Podrick. “Take me to Lord Tyrion”.

“Lord Tyrion is interviewing candidates for Maester of Whisperers, your grace. Shall I take you there?”

Bran nodded again.

The man is in his late youth, has a strange Essosi accent, from Braavos. “Are all whisperers based on Essos?” Tyrion thought. This man also may prove a fruitful connection to Braavos and Iron Bank, but he seems too much boastful at the conversation, he concluded when Podrick came there with Bran.

“Your grace.” Tyrion stood up and bowed shortly, giving a gesture to the candidate to leave for now.

“I have to talk to you Tyrion.” he looked up to Podrick, who understood and left the room at once.

“It is about Daenerys. Red Priests of Volantis have her body now.”

Tyrion sighed, he just began to feel comfortable after all this warfare. Perhaps that is over now.

(End of Episode)