A tale of wolves and dragons

The Hour of the Wolf

The time had come. All of Jon and Daenerys' aids assembled around the war table during the hour of the wolf. Each with a more glum look on their face.

Jon strode along the corridor intently, wishing this discussion to be swift. On his way into the door, Sam begged a quick word.

"Jon, apologies, but....it's about the Queen. May I have a word? I know your busy - it won't take long..."

"Of course, Sam. What is it? Has she woken?" Jon asked with hope,

"No, Jon. It's, it's not that - it's about her condition..."

Jon listened intently...

"She's, well she's..."

"She's what?" Asked Tyrion who had overheard them discussing Daenerys' health.

"It's....Perhaps this is the wrong time, I'll speak with you both afterwards."

"Will she improve?" Tyrion asked,

Sam shuffled uncomfortably. "I don't know..."

"When this council has finished I'll come and find you before I return to her...but if she's in real danger, Sam, please - speak now" Jon said warily.

Sam gave a gentle nod and then left them to their meeting.

Jon entered the room and sat next to Sansa, leaving the head seat vacant. Varys and Tyrion looked at each other acknowledging Jon's intentful move.
Sansa thanked everyone for assembling at such a late hour, but pressed the importance of the discussion. She asked Ser Davos for the scroll and then handed it to Jon. Her eyes were locked on his, knowing the words he would now read aloud.

"Cersei Lannister, first of her name and rightful Queen of the seven kingdoms....." Jon looked up at Jamie Lannister as he read it. He felt so frustrated and full of fire, he decided he would not honour her fake titles, and skipped over the pompous introductions.

"I ask that the Warden in the North, of House Stark, remember his duty to the realm and recant his alliance with House Targaryen, swearing a renewed fealty to House Lannister and to the Crown. In return for House Stark's loyalty and service, the Crown pledges a truce to overlook past transgressions of falsehoods and swears by oath to keep the Northern people from harm.

Should the Warden refuse, the full wrath of the Capital's military and that of the Golden Company will be shown and Winterfell's occupants will be classified traitors to the Crown. No mercy will be granted to those who do not obey their true Queen. Assurance of your faith is requested by rider on Sunday morn"

The faces in the room looked a mix of devastation and anger.

"So what now?" Asked Lord Varys.

"What indeed" Said Tyrion.

"How many men do we have?" Jon asked glumly.

Greyworm spoke of the Unsullied and Dothraki numbers, far less than had arrived in Winterfell to defeat the army of the dead. Davos accounted for the Northern forces and Wildlings. Their numbers were dwindling more each day as the injured were transported to White Harbour to fully recover.

"So not enough...." Jon sighed. A few moments of silence befell the room.

"What about the forces in Meereen?.....Daenerys' Captain still holds the city, does he not?"

"He does. But they would never reach Winterfell in time..." Tyrion hesitated.

"We should send for them, in any case. Immediately. Even if we can withstand the battle for a few days, that still gives them enough time to get close enough. Reinforcements would be a welcomed relief...." Jon looked over to Sansa, acknowledging her victorious decision during the final stages of the battle of the bastards.