Tywin Lannister did not know where he was. Ever since that night when he discovered that Roose Bolton and Balon Greyjoy harbored murderous intent toward him, he had been fleeing.
He had only realized it too late.
By the time he noticed Bolton men drawing inexplicably close to the Lannister camp and understood what they meant to do, Tywin could only slip away in silence.
Yet just as he sought to find his brother Kevan and warn him of this matter, he witnessed with his own eyes the death of his brother.
Tywin had no means to save him; he could scarcely save himself.
Though grief chilled his heart, Tywin knew well that the only thing he could do was flee, abandoning all.
And so, taking advantage of the chaos caused by his brother Kevan's failed attempt to assassinate Robb Stark, Tywin changed his garments, donned a helm to conceal his face, mingled among the crowd, and under cover of night left Deepwood Motte.
Before departing, he recalled that the ships of the Iron Islands lay to the southwest. Thus he made his way west, hoping to find the ironmen's vessels and see whether he might blend among them, or else find some place to hide.
Yet the sudden, unceasing blizzards ruined all his designs. He lost even his sense of direction and could only estimate a general bearing as he fled.
The place where he now found himself held vast pine forests, each tree tall enough for shipbuilding, barely able to shield him from the raging storm without.
Though the trees here stood high and sturdy, the ground beneath was filled with hills and marshland, riddled with many hidden caves.
Yet it was precisely these caves and trees that granted Tywin shelter during these bitter nights; he had survived the cold only by hiding within such caverns.
Awakening once more in the cold, Tywin, still half-dazed, cast a glance at the fire before him, now long extinguished.
He swallowed, crawled out of the cave, picked up a handful of snow, and placed it in his mouth, letting it melt with care.
His belly answered with hollow protest.
"I have seen neither village nor sign of man. Where in the Seven Kingdoms am I?"
"And I must find food. If I do not, I shall not live to see the day's end."
He let the snow melt upon his tongue, and only after the water no longer bit with such cold did Tywin swallow the scant moisture to soothe his parched throat.
Feeling the hunger gnaw within him, Tywin knew clearly that if he did not soon find proper food, he would not survive this freezing night.
And just then, a somewhat strange sound drifted from afar.
Tywin turned by instinct. In the distance, along the frozen shore, something seemed to be moving. From afar, it appeared to be some living creature.
What he wished for came to pass. Noticing the dark speck in the distance, a trace of excitement rose in Tywin's heart.
When he cautiously made his way over, Tywin finally discovered what had made the sound.
It was several seals, resting and playing upon the ice.
At the sight of those round creatures lying at ease upon the frozen surface, light flared in Tywin's eyes.
Gripping the spear he had taken from the ironmen when he left Deepwood Motte, Tywin used the cover of surrounding trees and rocks to creep forward with care.
A single shrill cry— the hunt was successful.
Though hunting them differed somewhat from hunting in the forest, the principle was much the same. In the end, Tywin obtained what he desired.
It had gone almost too smoothly.
Yet just as he swiftly dragged the unlucky seal to the shore and, while its body heat had not yet faded, quickly slit open its belly with a dagger and cut off several pieces of fat to stuff into his stomach, the wind and snow in the sky seemed to grow fiercer once more.
At the same time, a thick mist drifted in from the sea.
While Tywin kept wary of the changing weather and was preparing to cut off more seal meat to take with him, his gaze was suddenly drawn to a dark speck that had appeared upon the sea.
Within the fog, a wooden boat rocked unsteadily as it drifted in his direction.
…
After dealing with the crisis at Winterfell, this time Kal did not depart in such burning haste.
Compared with the matters at hand in the North, affairs at Storm's End were not so urgent. For the moment, he would let the forces of Dorne and House Hightower continue their encirclement.
He ought at least to give the two houses that had declared for him last some opportunity to prove themselves.
In any case, Stannis would not escape.
At the same time, Kal intended to have them test the Red Woman on his behalf, to see what Stannis and Melisandre—who so plainly sought Storm's End—were truly plotting.
Thus, early the next morning, Maester Luwin, who had kept vigil by Robb's bedside through the night, upon learning that the king had awakened, hastened to report to Kal.
The first matter he spoke of was that Balon Greyjoy, who had howled in the dungeons through the night, had died in the early hours before dawn.
"You mean to say he endured the whole night?"
Upon hearing Maester Luwin's report, shock could not help but show upon Kal's face.
Maester Luwin's expression differed little from Kal's. Learned enough in theory to rival a doctor, and wearing the silver link about his neck not without cause, he was not ignorant of the human body.
"Yes, Your Grace. It is said that by the end he had gone mad. He bit off his own tongue, and thus brought about his own death."
Hearing this, Kal could not help but stroke his chin.
For a time, he could not determine whether the Drowned God had intervened, whether it was merely the skill of the torturer, or whether something else unknown to him had gone awry.
After all, Kal knew full well what manner of punishment he had ordered for Balon.
Water torture.
As for cruelty and terror, few could surpass it.
Yet Balon had endured an entire night, and in the end, unable to bear the torment, had bitten off his own tongue and died of the pain.
It could only be called inhuman.
"It would seem his faith in the Drowned God was not so steadfast after all. He chose to kill himself rather than be drowned, heh…"
"It seems he shall not be invited to the Drowned God's watery halls to feast. No mermaid shall grant his wishes, and he will never again speak the words 'What is dead may never die.'"
Kal let out a mocking laugh.
His purpose in doing this had been to make Balon—who had devoted his life to the Drowned God and been fanatical about the Old Way—lose the faith he had clung to all his days.
To be drowned is the traditional method of executing an ironman. Among the ironborn, it is at the same time a sacred rite, for they believe that a true follower of the Drowned God does not fear drowning.
Though Kal had not used saltwater or seawater—indeed, he had deliberately ordered that fresh water be used—this had been his intent.
He meant to slay not only the man, but his heart.
Having said this, Kal did not dwell further upon it.
Only after quietly keeping a measure of wariness toward the Drowned God in his heart did he wave a hand and say, "Since he is dead, let that be the end of it. As before, all bodies are to be burned. Leave none."
"Yes, Your Grace. There is one more matter I wish to report."
Upon hearing the king's words, Maester Luwin at last understood Kal's purpose, and could not help but shiver.
"Speak." Letting the matter pass, and hearing that Maester Luwin had more to say, Kal cast a casual glance at the Valyrian steel link among the chain about his neck and replied gently, as though the cold words just spoken had not been his own.
Maester Luwin hastened to say, "Young Lord Robb has awakened. I have examined him. His body is sound, and his mind shows no disorder."
"Your Grace, though it may be improper, I still offer my thanks on behalf of my lord and the young lord for your aid."
As Maester Luwin spoke, he kept his head lowered, only daring to glance at Kal with care.
Robb's severed ear and the arm that had been chopped off still lay in his chamber, placed within an iron basin filled with ice.
Yet Robb himself now showed no harm. His arm was whole and grown as before; so too was his ear.
This left many to suspect that the king had done something, yet none dared to ask. By unspoken accord, they pressed their curiosity deep within their minds.
For if a maimed man, even one at death's door, could be restored to life and made whole again by the king—what else could it be but a miracle?
And so men could not help but recall a rumor that had come from the south.
"Oh, he has awakened so soon? Then it seems he truly is unharmed."
It was indeed good news. That Robb had not died and was well—setting other matters aside—eased Kal's conscience somewhat toward House Stark, a house ever loyal to Robert and to himself.
"Where is he? Shall we go and see him?"
At Kal's words, Maester Luwin dared not answer so boldly. He hurriedly said, "I would not presume to trouble Your Grace. Young Lord Robb, Ser Rodrik Cassel, and the various lords presently at Winterfell are all awaiting you in the great hall."
The sky outside was not yet fully light. How could they truly have been waiting for him?
Kal perceived Maester Luwin's tact and gave a nod.
"In that case, have the cook prepare me a serving of fried fish. I have heard that the cod of the Long Lake is most fine, yet I did not taste it on my last visit."
"Prepare breakfast in the great hall as well. Let us all dine together."
"Yes, Your Grace." Greatly relieved, Maester Luwin hastened to make arrangements.
Yet when he had just reached the doorway, he seemed to recall something and paused once more.
"Your Grace, what fare shall be prepared for your dragon, and for that… ah… direwolf? I will have the servants see to it."
"JJ is a dog, not a wolf. Give them some meat. Raw or cooked matters not. Robert can roast his own."
…
After many days, the wind and snow had at last ceased. From Winterfell, the world beyond lay white and boundless.
The dragon and the dog, who only yesterday had slaughtered without mercy upon the battlefield, now crouched in Winterfell's yard, glaring at one another. Winterfell was large enough at least to contain Robert with his wings folded, and still leave space besides.
Yet in the face of Robert's indignant stare, JJ merely lolled his tongue and fixed him with bright, foolish eyes, panting.
When Robert did not move for a long while, JJ nudged with his nose the sheep before him—so frightened that it had collapsed to the ground, its legs too weak to stand. His meaning was plain enough.
Around the yard, soldiers and servants alike kept their distance, watching the two killing gods with care.
On yesterday's field, it had been this dragon and this dog who had shattered an army of nearly ten thousand. It had been a sight of terror.
It was difficult to reconcile that memory with the two fools now staring at each other in stubborn silence.
Seeing the shameless cur hoping to eat without effort, Robert lifted a claw. With the middle talon flicked outward in a gesture at once polite and friendly, he gave a sweep of his great tail and turned his back, unwilling to look any longer.
The great golden dog, thick-skinned as ever, panted and edged closer still.
Had he not feared burning his tongue, he might well have licked Robert from head to tail.
Let us set aside this small diversion in the yard.
Within the great hall of Winterfell, knights of some renown, seasoned warriors, and the noble lords had gathered together, their gazes turned toward the king seated above.
Clad as ever in red, black, and gold beneath, with a bearskin cloak draped over his shoulders, Kal took his seat at the high place.
"Robb, how fares your body?"
Seeing the healthy color upon the face of his future goodbrother, Kal offered a simple greeting.
Since the moment his vision had gone black yesterday, and he had later awakened to be told that the war was over and that they had won, Robb still bore a trace of bewilderment upon his face.
He did not know of the king's arrival, nor that it had been the king who saved Winterfell and himself.
Only when he looked at his arm, whole and uninjured, and touched his ear, likewise restored, did he have no choice but to accept all that Maester Luwin had told him.
And when he saw that Kal's first concern upon entering the hall was for him, Robb hastily rose and went down upon one knee before him.
"Your Grace, King Kal Baratheon the First, Robb of House Stark offers you his highest respect and gratitude."
"You have not only saved Winterfell, but also preserved my life. Such honor I—"
"Of all things to learn from Lord Eddard, you chose that."
Seeing Robb about to launch into a long speech, and mindful of the many eyes within the hall, Kal lifted a hand and pulled him up at once, cutting off his words of devotion.
"That is enough. Eat. The loyalty of House Stark is worth this and more."
After a brief exchange, Kal called for the meal to begin.
What else was there to do at such a time but eat first?
Seeing the king thus, Robb exchanged a glance with Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik Cassel. A faint wry smile touched their faces.
Yet stronger still was the resolve in their eyes.
"Robb, what are your plans henceforth?"
Midway through the meal, the air in the hall remained strange. These Northmen, who ought to have been rough and unrestrained, were each more stiff than the last. The sight troubled Kal, and so he turned the matter directly to Robb.
Caught unprepared by the question, Robb started slightly and for a moment did not know how to answer.
Seeing his hesitation, Kal swallowed the tender fish in his mouth, set down his knife and fork, and pressed his lips together.
"If you have no plan, I have a suggestion."
Robb was no fool. At Kal's words, he understood that the king had an arrangement in mind.
"Your Grace, House Stark stands ready to heed your command."
Robb nodded firmly.
"The war is ended, and winter has come."
"Before I came here, I received ill tidings—concerning the Others."
"Therefore, I intend to launch an expedition beyond the Wall."
"For this expedition, I will summon all the noble lords of the North, along with the lords of the Vale who have now arrived, to form a small company of roughly one hundred men."
"I shall lead it myself and go beyond the Wall to seek the source of this calamity."
"If this matter proves true, then in the coming winter we must make ready for a disaster that has not descended upon us in a thousand years."
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