Lannister Blood

34 - Rise of the Seven Kingdoms / A Journey's End

Time passes. Slowly, but it passes. It always passes slowly when grief comes into play. And yet, fast when a child is growing, or when the time comes for friends to part ways.

Time is a fickle thing, and we all must succumb to its effects.

It's difficult for me to leave, and yet impossible for me to stay.

The death of Daenerys has weighed heavily on us all. The skies are a bit more dull, despite the extravagant and lonely Drogon that still roams through the wispy clouds. He roams and roams, forever keeping a watchful eye over the growing Lyanna and her mourning father. Drogon will come when he is needed, when he is called. And Jon, though he is weary and ridden with sorrowful thoughts, has proven himself to be a remarkable father.

Little Lyanna will never feel alone. She will never have to question if she is loved. She will never wonder if she belongs to a home. A true blessing; one I wish for her with all my heart.

"Let her be a Stark," Daenerys had said with her last breath. "Let her be free."

And Jon knew what she meant, for it was something they had discussed before. Daenerys was frightened of a growing madness that had plagued her family for generations. She was frightened that the reoccurring visions and nightmares she was having would eventually come true, despite the warmth fighting the darkness in her heart; despite putting someone else on the throne. She was frightened of herself, even when Jon insisted there was nothing to be fearful of. He loved her with every aspect of his being, and she him. And for that very reason, she couldn't bear to see him die at the cold hands of the Night King.

The skies still cry for her, as do her loved ones. But the world still turns, and the kingdoms still grow and thrive under Robb and Sansa's rule. The North has grown so strong as its own kingdom, and the two Stark children work surprisingly well together.

And here I find myself, once again, standing at the base of Blackwater Bay. I can't help but remember training with Bronn down here, and the first time I heard the strange voice echo within my mind. The voice that has now faded since the Night King's defeat, as well as the weight that I have carried through the Sight. It's not gone completely, at least I don't believe so. I can still sense things now and then. It just comes naturally. If I really focus my mind, I can pick up on a bit more, but I try not to.

It's strange really, with the Sight not hovering over me with it's mysterious "purpose". And just like so many others before, it has left me. It almost feels like abandonment. All this trouble, all this loss, all this struggle, and for what? What has it left me with? Rewan said I would never feel at home anywhere, and it turns out he was right.

King's Landing has changed so much since I escaped with Tyrion all those years ago. The smell is different, much more pleasant. It's almost like Robb has brought the North with him, despite the heat of the South. The poor are becoming less common, and much of the sewage has been cleansed from the streets. It will take a long time for the city to come back together, but Robb has proven to be a promising king. A king who fulfills those promises. A king the people can finally trust. A king they deserve.

I'm still not used to the fact that Tyrion and Robb work so well together. Why Robb decided to keep Tyrion as his Hand, I'll never know. Sometimes I think Tyrion likes to tug at Robb's patience, which is no surprise for my brother. And it used to get to Robb, but now Robb returns the gesture, which I honestly think pleases Tyrion greatly.

Jaime and Brienne now reside in the North, after quite a few passionate arguments. After the Night King fell, Jaime relinquished his title at the Wall with the approval of the king. Jaime wanted to follow Brienne, despite her protests after their last parting. My conversation with Jaime before the battle caused him to ponder a lot of things. Jaime is now a part of the Queensguard under the command of Brienne. The two have not quite reconciled, but things are a little less hostile these days, or so Jaime writes in his letters.