"Where is father?" Arya asked, and then there was silence.
The dragon skull loomed above them, its hollow eyes staring into the dark. Thor stood tall before the two girls, his face grim. Cursing under his breath, he didn't wish to have this talk with them.
However, he had to tell them the truth—that their father had been captured.
Sansa's hand flew to her mouth. Her knees nearly gave way as she whispered, "No… no, it can't be. They can't do that to Father… he's the Hand of the King! The king promised…" Her voice broke, and she pressed her face against Thor's chest, trembling.
All her dreams of being queen, of her prince charming coming to take her away, were dashed. Everything came crashing down.
Arya, on the other hand, erupted. "You're lying! He's not captured! Father can fight—he has men—he'll get out!" Her voice rose, echoing against the stone walls. Typical childish defiance, when kids refuse to see reason simply because they don't want to—and because they are still kids.
"We can't leave him here! We have to help him!"
Thor crouched down so his eyes met Arya's. "I wish it were a lie, little one. But I saw it myself. The Lannisters took him. He is their prisoner now. I tried to help him, nearly brought the entire castle down on me. There is no saving him—at least I can't do it without leaving you two alone, and you saw what happened when I left. It's dangerous for you both.
Your father has been captured already, and now they're after you two."
Arya shook her head fiercely, tears brimming in her eyes. "Then we'll free him! Together. You're strong—you're Thor! You could smash through all of them. And I have Needle. I'll fight too! We can't just leave him."
Thor let out a slow breath. He wanted nothing more than to agree with her, to storm the Red Keep with hammer in hand and break every chain. Hell, he knew he could do it. So what if he couldn't use thunder yet, or if the damn hammer wouldn't fly back to him?
He was confident that hardly anyone could stop him if he chose to go solo.
But what about the girls? That was the biggest issue. He had no one who could keep them safe here in King's Landing while he left. He was gone only for hours, and Joffrey had already sent his goons.
For Thor, the girls were more important than Ned, honestly—and in this case, even Ned Stark would not refuse. The girls' safety was more important.
Ned thought that because he was their father. Thor thought that because he had gotten attached to them, especially the little one here.
He placed a large hand gently on Arya's shoulder. "Listen to me. If I could strike them down and carry your father out, I would. In fact, I know I can.
But the Lannisters are not fools. They hold the city, they hold the guards, they hold the throne itself. If we try to fight them now, they will go after you both. If you were captured, then it wouldn't matter even if I saved your father. Do you think your father would flee the city if you two were hostages?"
His voice grew heavier. "They will use you against him—and against me.
However, if both of you are not here, then they will tread carefully with him. Unlike three prisoners, they would only have one, meaning his life will matter to them more. In this case, yes, his treatment wouldn't be any better, but without a doubt, they will not let him die.
But if you both are also caught, then those Lannisters wouldn't hesitate to make unreasonable demands from House Stark and the entire North. They would have leverage with you three as prisoners.
If nothing else, these Lannisters wouldn't be afraid to kill one of you to show what they are capable of—to prove a point.
That won't happen if there is only one prisoner, only one person they can use for leverage. The pressure on your house and the North would be far smaller.
Think, child.
Think." Thor calmly, reasonably explained the most practical solution for them. He just hoped they saw reason. Knocking them out and taking them away would be hard even for him.
Sansa whimpered at those words, and Arya froze.
Thor continued, steady but kind. "Your father would give his life for you both. Do you think he would want you running through streets full of lions, blades at every corner, only to be snared like prey?"
Arya's lip quivered, anger battling fear. "But he's my father. I can't just leave him."
Thor nodded. "I know. I would never ask you to stop loving him. But sometimes… sometimes the bravest choice is not to fight, but to live. Live, so one day you can fight when the time is right."
Sansa clutched at Thor's arm. "Please, Arya… he's right." While mostly naïve, when it came to reason, the older Stark girl was far better at using her brain instead of giving in to childish nature. Age played the bigger role here.
Arya clenched her fists. "I don't care what they want. I'm not afraid of them." Stubborn as always.
Thor looked her in the eyes, his voice firm now. "Then be afraid for her." He tilted his head toward Sansa. "She cannot fight. She needs you. She needs her sister. And be afraid for your father, too, because just as I said—if they caught either of you, the value of Ned Stark's life would drastically decrease."
Arya glanced at Sansa, who looked back with tear-streaked cheeks. Slowly, Arya's fire dimmed. She didn't answer, but she didn't argue again.
Thor rose, his voice low but certain. "We will leave this place. We will survive. And when the time comes… you will see your father again.
You have my word."
Arya wiped her face with her sleeve, silent, but finally she nodded.
...
[North]
Tyrion Lannister had walked all night and most of the day, his legs aching and his pride wounded. Snow crunched under his boots, and his breath came in white clouds. Every step he took, he muttered curses under his breath, most of them aimed at Sandor Clegane.
"That bloody dog has lost his mind," Tyrion grumbled, "a man who could've had gold, wine, and women in plenty if only he had the good sense to head south. But no, not Sandor fucking Clegane.
The big brute chose to freeze his balls off in the freezing North rather than heat them inside a whore's cunt.
My dear father will surely have something to say when he learns that one of his bannermen kidnapped House Stark's youngest. Quite a tale it will be." He shook his head, kicking at the snow, his disgruntlement very evident in his tone.
"Seven hells, why is the snow neck-deep for a dwarf here in the North? Do they not have halflings in this place? Where is the infrastructure? For a line originating from Bran the Builder himself, the Starks' territory is laughably underdeveloped."
Yes, he had been in a complaining mood ever since he had to walk all the way from the Wall to the nearest town on foot. And as a dwarf, he knew—much as Gimli would have felt—that walking in knee-deep snow was a nightmare.
He remembered the days at Castle Black. Well, not the days—most days he was out cold from the last night's escapades.
The nights, though, were truly worth remembering for Tyrion. They were long, full of wine and women. All that a dwarf needs.
And here in the North, at Castle Black?
"Water, water, and more water," Tyrion muttered irritably. "I might as well have been a monk. And as for women—ha! The only skirts up there belonged to crows too busy swearing oaths and shovelling dung to notice a Lannister."
He chuckled to himself, though it was more bitter than amused. "And the Starks… gods bless their stiff necks."
Finally, after hours of trudging, the lights of Mole's Town came into view. Tyrion's spirits lifted. "At last," he said with a smile, "civilisation! Or at least the North's pitiful attempt at it. Wine, women, and a bed not made of snow.
I'd take even a slave auction at this point, if it means spending time with someone without a cock between their legs."
The brothel greeted him with the smell of smoke, sweat, and something far less pleasant. Inside, he found women with missing teeth, dirt under their nails, and smiles that promised more disease than delight. The place was dim, cold, and about as inviting as a midden heap.
Tyrion wrinkled his nose. "Or perhaps not." He gave the nearest whore a look and sighed. "Perhaps tonight, I shall remain celibate for just one more day. Stranger things have happened—why not continue until I'm out of this snow-filled hell once and for all?"
He found a bench, ordered the weakest ale he'd ever tasted, and raised the cup with a dry laugh. "To the North," he said, "and to my future nightly escapades which await once I leave this hellhole."
xxx
Please Consider Donating Power Stones if you like the Chapter.
"Thank you Very Much for All Your Support"
If you want to read up to 20+ Chapters in advance, check my Patreon on
Patreon.com/Kamidemond