Winterfell had been drab upon my last visit nearly eight years ago, but her hills at least bore some color in my recollection. The shape of the King's Road held its haunting familiarity, the grass worn down by armies and travelers moving up and down for hundreds of years, but the hills and dips had now turned a blinding, unfamiliar white. I struggled to recall those old dull browns and greenish yellows which once lined the King's Road, their significance never clear before now. Snow had begun to drift down from above as I made my way north, it fell lightly at first, like a breath I barely noticed until the ground beneath Glory's hooves grew whiter and whiter the further up we rode. I stopped several times looking off to the distance where white snow had begun blanketing the mountains. The further I traveled, the more the clouds faded into obscurity as icy mist floated beyond the trees. ⠀⠀
With the land spread before me snowy and barren, the world I once knew in those distant memories seemed impossibly perfect in its full color. Of course I remembered it brighter and greener than it had actually been. I looked back upon my whole life through the distortion of water splattered by rain, and while my recollection of the greenery was distorted, I did recall clarity my reluctance to make that initial journey up the King's Road to Winterfell a lifetime ago. I recalled my discontent. The trip seemed wasteful and pointless as I viewed Robert's friends as below me, their accommodations as less than civilized, the long horse ride was a waste of my time. I lied to myself that I was also afraid; pride hiding my fear to face old Ned Stark. Ned had been the one to find me after I ended the old Mad King with his eyes stained with judgement...seeing those worn old eyes of his again ate away at what little remained of my sense of self worth.
My preference was to go about my life as if my deeds bore no effect on me, as if my armor deflected the pain judgement inflected on me; but Robert, that fat fuck, just could not leave well enough alone. ⠀⠀
Looking through that very distorted reflection, I remembered the shining lion with two strong hands and a sword of gold. I saw my sister Cersei when she wore her golden locks long about her shoulders with more pride than vitriol in her eyes. In this reflection, I loved her still and the illusion that she loved me too was ever strong and in my mind, ever real.The past haunted me, the dreams that I was still her mirror and worthy of her love, that my two hands and hair of gold carried value to her. My father still drew breath and acted as a mighty wall separating us and the world from the chaos in the form of dragon's fire. And Tyrion...oh Tyrion, his eyes gleamed with lust for whores and a thirst for wine and he did not hate me. Fuck, I even missed Robert with his drunken laugh.⠀⠀⠀
Better days... better days indeed... I peered up into the sky curious how Tyrion and the people of the North would view me now all these years later; tarnished with one hand and a name dirtied by my father's actions; and even his death. Would the North see I acted in good faith on behalf of Catelyn Stark? Would they see that I did not order her and her son killed, that I do not and did not act as an agent of my father's wrath?⠀⠀
Did it matter what they saw or believed? It never mattered to old Ned.⠀⠀
Glory's white form to eventually faded into the blinding snow as I continued my trek north. The chill had pushed its way down from the mountains beyond, a cold and harsh wind like a warning for me to turn back with my tail between my legs. The wind and the snow were mistaken, I was not so easily intimidated to turn back and not even the undead would shatter my resolve to continue my trek north. I had burned Cersei's letter along with my affection for her in ashes, and with the Riverlands back in some semblance of order, the time had come for me to tie last loose ends by fulfilling my promise to Catelyn Stark and pledging my sword to the remaining members of her house.
If I were to die, then it was of my own choosing and acceptance. My death should come full circle to the land where all this madness began so long ago, in that tower where I tossed that boy down to protect Cersei. The man I am now had poised himself to confront the beast I was then, and no cold winds, ghosts or snow would stop me from this task. If I were to die ripped to shreds by the fangs of dragons and the claws of wolves after my exhausting trek from the Riverlands, at least in my death I may rest knowing I had tried to rectify my actions of eight years past. I should consider it an honorable death, a clean death, or as close as I could ever come to a clean and semi-honorable death. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
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The Lion and The Dragon - ( Season 8 rewrite )
FanficA novelized re-writing of Game of Thrones season 8 which honors content closer to book cannon. Told from the POV of the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister, as he travels to Winterfell to aid the North and fulfill his oath to the late Catelyn Stark.
