Lannister Bastard

Days to Come

~before~

Boots clanked throughout the stone hallways of Casterly Rock, a gown soon following. The young woman's head nodding occasionally to the servants throughout the castle. Saoirse Hill, a babe found by Tywin Lannister and taken under House Lannister, ward of the Rock. No one knew where she gave from, no one knew her mother or father, it seemed as if she appeared at the Rock from thin air. She walked throughout the halls with a certain air of power, reminding most servants of anyone from the Lannister Clan.

The red gown flowing behind her, only a child still but tall for her age. Her golden hair braided into a crown around her head. Her blue eyes watching the floor move past her feet as she continued to walk forward. The cobblestones echoing. Soon enough, she wasn't alone. She glanced to her right and saw a handmaid walking close to her but keeping her distance.

"Saoirse," the handmaiden muttered under her breath. Saoirse glanced at her before nodding. She sped up, leaving the handmaiden behind. Her boots increased in volume, as her gown flowed like waves. Making a sharp turn, she finally reached a large red oak door. She slowed down her breathing and took a sigh out. A ball of saliva descended her throat. She gathered enough courage and knocked on the great door.

Silence. And more silence.

"Enter," a great voice commanded. Her pale calloused hand reached for the golden handle and put her weight into her hand, pushing the door open. Her right foot entering the room first.

~Present~

Castle Black

"And though Daenerys maintains her grip on Slaver's Bar, forces rise against her from within and without. She refuses to leave until the freedom of the former slaves is secure." Well she sounds quite a woman," Sam finished reading the letter to Maester Aemon, putting it down.

"And she's alone, under siege, no family to guide her or protect her. Her last relation thousands of miles away, useless, dying," Maester Aemon croaked out, smirking slightly.

"Don't say that, Maester Aemon," Sam said sadly, his shoulders sinking.

"A Targaryen, alone in the world, is a terrible thing." Their conversation soon cut short, as the door opened from behind Sam.

"Maester Aemon," Jon nodded to him and his friend.

"Lord Commander,"

"Sam, I'd like to speak to the master alone," Jon commanded making Sam nod in response. He grabbed all the letters and papers, quietly closing the door behind him. Jon sighed and walked over to the table, sitting next to Maester Aemon.

"How are you feeling?" Jon asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh, like a hundred-year-old man slowly freezing to death," Maester Aemon joked, smiling. Jon slightly smiled, scoffing in response.

"I need your advice," Jon started to say. "There's something I want to do, something I have to do. But it'll divide the Night's watch. Bitterly. Half the men will hate me the moment I give the order." Jon finished saying, looking at the table in front of him.

"Half the men hate you already, Lord Commander. Do it." Maester Aemon advised him, without even listening to the rest of what he had to say.

"But you don't know what it is," Jon began to retort back, confused.

"That doesn't matter. You do. You will find little joy in your command. But with luck, you will find strength to do what needs to be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy, and let the man be born." Maester Aemon finished causing Jon to nod in response, leaving the Maester alone.