ADwD 26: The Wayward Bride (Asha I)

Asha Greyjoy is at Deepwood Motte.

Asha: Hey, wait! I thought the whole point of splitting “A Feast for Crows” and “A Dance with Dragons” apart was to have some people’s POVs in one of the books, and other people’s in the other.  Admittedly, towards the end of this book the POVs “catch up” and we rejoin the narrative of both stories. However, I was clearly a AFfC POV character, and yet for some reason, I’m having a chapter appear fairly early in ADwD.

Anyway, she gets a letter.

Asha: Oooh! A letter… from Ramsay Bolton! Gosh, that guy sure loves writing letters. Hrm. He says that the letter is written with the blood of the ironborn from Moat Cailin. Gross. Oh, and it also has a piece of human skin in it, which he claims comes from my brother, Theon. That is super nasty as well.

She throws it all in the fire.

Tristifer “Tris” Botley: Oh no, Asha! If the Boltons captured Moat Cailin… then Torrhen’s Square will be next! Followed by right here at Deepwood Motte!

Asha: If you say so. I usually skip over those pages with the maps at the beginning of the books. That sounds about right though.  Ugh. My father wouldn’t have let Moat Cailin go undefended like that. But Uncle Euron… that dick only cares about hunting those dragons in the East. Please. Dragons?! That’s crazy talk! Oh well. Our cause is hopeless and we’re all going to die soon. I guess the best we can hope for is dying heroically in battle.

Tris: WHAT?! No! I don’t want that at all!

Asha then heads up to her room, where her man ho is waiting for her.

Qarl: Hey, let’s have rough nasty sex that’s portrayed in a pretty disgusting way that clearly blurs the lines of “consent” and which you constantly tell me know and tell me to get off of you, but really you’re super into it and begging for the satisfaction of a rape fantasy.

Asha: Wow, that is horrible. GRRM really is a bad human being.

After that, Asha thinks back to filler nonsense to catch-up what has happened with her since the last book. She fled Old Wyck quickly after losing the Kingsmoot, only to learn that Euron had married her in absentia to the old man, Erik Ironmaker.  She knows she can’t go home, but she can’t stay here.

Semisonic: OoOoooo… CLOSING TIME!

Asha: No! Stop that, Semisonic. Stop.

After the sex and contemplating, Asha realizes that she’s got some post-sex hunger for food, so she heads down to the fridge in the Deepwood Motte break room.

Asha: Hrm. Some leftover Panera. That looks like it could be good.

Tris: OH, HAI ASHA!

Asha: Ugh. Tris. What do you want? 

Tris: Just to fawn over you some more, since I’m in love with you and have been since we were both children.

Asha: Can’t you tell that I smell like sex with another guy?

Tris: W-what?!

Asha: Let’s talk about something else.

Tris: Well, we need to talk about what we’re doing next. We need to leave Deepwood, but where do we go?

Asha: I suppose we could join my uncle Aeron the Damphair’s rebellion against Euron. Although Aeron is an extremely backwards, sexist asshole.

Tris: True. That’s a terrible idea. Joing that rebellion is folly. If only there was some way to invalidate the Kingsmoot and say that Euron was falsely elected like with the story of Torgon Greyiron.

Asha: Yeah, that would be awesome. WAIT. What?! There was a Kingsmoot where the result got invalidated?

Tris: Of course. You don’t know the story of Torgon?

Asha: BITCH, IF I DID I WOULDN’T BE ASKING YOU ABOUT IT.

Tris: Okay, so Torgon Greyiron is also known as “Torgon the Latecomer.” He was the eldest son of King Urragon III Greyiron. When Urragon died, Torgon was out raiding, raping and pillaging. You know, good stuff that the ironborn are supposed to do. But Torgon’s brothers conspired against him while he was away and held a Kingsmoot in his absence, without ever sending him a letter that the Kingsmoot was happening.  It didn’t work out for any of the brothers though, because it was actually Urrathon IV Goodbrother, aka “Badbrother,” who was elected instead of any of them. Urrathon had all the brothers murdered.  When Torgon returned home, he claimed that the Kingsmoot was invalid because he wasn’t there for it.

Asha: So they called a new Kingsmoot and Torgon won?

Tris: Not really. But everyone fucking hated Urrathon Badbrother, so pretty much everyone including the priests of the drowned god supported Torgon and led a rebellion against Badbrother. In the end, his own captains hacked Badbrother to pieces and Torgon was placed on the throne without any Kingsmoot, and ruled for 40 years.

Asha: Hrm. Cool story.

Tris: Indeed. But too bad it doesn’t apply in this situation here. Because you actually WERE AT the Kingsmoot and lost. So you can’t make a claim that it’s invalid.

Asha then grabs Tris and kisses him.

Tris: YESSS! OMG YES! That’s all I ever wanted. What was that for?

Asha: Tris, you stupid fucking idiot. That Kingsmoot was invalid because Urragon’s SON was not there to compete for it. Well Balon has a SON too who wasn’t there to compete for the last Kingsmoot.

Tris: You mean—

Asha: —Yes, Tris! I’m going to GO ON A MISSION TO SAVE THEON!

Tris: Too late. He just died.

Asha: No, that's the show. Were talking the books. None of that has happened yet, if it ever does.

Tris: Okay fine, we'll go save your brother. But not because you love him as a brother, right? In the show, you save him because he’s your brother.

Asha: Correct. In the books, I only wish to save him as a political maneuver in order to invalidate Euron’s rule and seek my own power.

Just then, a horn sounds.

Asha: Shit. That’s the warning horn. What’s happening now?

She heads down to the bailey of Deepwood Motte to check things out.

Asha: What’s up with all that horn nonsense?

Ironborn Soldier: We found some northern scouts. Mountain people, by the looks of them. They were checking out our defenses and trying to find a way to infiltrate the keep.

Asha: Hrm. Yes, the mountain clans have always been a divided group. But recently they’ve been attacking us in an orderly manner. Someone must have united them all together. I wonder who. A great question, but I don’t care to stick around long enough to figure out. MEN! Ready our horses! We are abandoning this castle and heading back to our ships.

They set out at night for the coast, hoping to escape the incoming armies of the northern mountain clans.

Near dawn, they briefly rest.

Asha: Yes, some good old rest and relaxation! That’s what we need! Calm, wondeful res—

—They are immediately ambushed by the mountain clans.

Asha: AGH! DAMN IT!

The Mountain Clan soldiers fiercely attack them. Fighting ensues. As Asha tries to flee, she’s held against a tree by a man. He pulls out an axe and swings it towards her head.

Asha: Well, I’m fu—

*lights out*

The next thing Asha knows, she sees a bright light and hears blowing trumpets.

Asha: I guess I’m dead now and this is heaven. Wait a minute. There are no trumpets in Ironborn heaven. Our Drowned God’s watery halls are supposed to have mer-men blowing into seashells and shit. And… what’s with this guy here? This blurry, blurry guy who I see… why… it appears he’s wearing some sort of outfit with a black stag with some red flames. Hrmm. Why does a stag with flames seem so familiar?

ADwD 25: The Windblown (Quentyn II)

Quentyn Martell, previously disguised as a Merchant, is now disguised as a squire in the Windblown mercenary company, named “Frog.” Portraying the knight he is the squire for is Gerris Drinkwater, going under the nickname “Drink.”  They are on the outskirts of Astapor, where their company has been fighting the “New Unsullied” after sailing here. 

Quentyn: Well that’s a dumb name.

Dick Straw: Hi everyone!

Quentyn: But at least it’s not as dumb a name as “Dick Straw.”

Dick: I hear that the Dragon Queen is marching on Yunkai. We must move north to meet her!

Gerris: Well, let’s do that! *whispers* Because we’re on a secret mission to defect to her side anyway.

Dick: Huh? 

Gerris: Uhh. Nothing.

Gerris and Quentyn walk over to a corner.

Quentyn: Hey, Gerris.

Gerris: Shh! You gotta call me “Drink,” and I gotta call you “Frog.” It’s our secret identities.

Quentyn: Yeah, whatever. Dumb. I guess we’re going to get new identities every chapter. Anyway, do you still think it’s a good idea to go to this Dany girl?

Gerris: Of course! Your father sent us on a mission. Many of our friends have already died along the way. You must marry the Targaryen girl and bring her back with us to Dorne to claim the Seven Kingdoms.

Quentyn: I know, I know. That was the plan. But have you heard these things that they’ve been saying about Dany? It’s like she’s some sort of monster.

Gerris: Yeah, I’ve heard that stuff. I don’t think you can believe it though.

Quentyn: They say she’s a lusty, murderous monster who kills the innocent. She practices human sacrifice. They say she has sex with one of her captains, who has a foot-long cock. But even that foot-long cock isn’t big enough for her, so she prefers to have sex with horses since no man can fill her needs.

Gerris: Who are the “they” in “they say.”

Quentyn: Fox News.

Gerris: Well there you go.

Quentyn: If she’s as crazy as they say she is… like her father the mad king… do I still have to marry her?

Gerris: *shrug*

Archibald Yronwood: Hey! I’m in this scene too! And my new nickname is "Greenguts."

But nobody cares about Archibald Yronwood, so you can disregard him.

Quentyn:  Still, if we’re marching on Yunkai, that’s good. I’m ready to get the hell out of Astapor. This place has been a slaughterhouse.

The Windblown Company marches out, heading towards Yunkai. With them are the infantry of Old Ghis, as well as the surving members of the “Wise Masters” of Yunkai with their slave soldiers.

Still, is they are going to meet Dany in Yunkai… then they will also face the REAL Unsullied soliders, as well as Dany’s dragons. That prospect haunts Quentyn.

Quentyn:  Psst! Gerris! I mean… uhh… “Drink.” Don’t you feel kind of bad about breaking our oath to this company? I mean over the last several weeks, we’ve fought side-by-side with  hem and become their friends. It’s a total dick move that we’ll betray them soon.

Gerris: Yeah, that sort of sucks. But we gotta do it.

Quentyn: I suppose. But how exactly are we going to abandon the Wildblown and join team Dany?

Gerris: We need to wait until we actually get to Yunkai to do it. Then in the middle of night we can slip out and join the other side. Unless, of course, a COMPLETELY CONTRIVED PLOT DEVELOPMENT OCCURS, WHICH REQUIRES A SUSPENSION OF ALL DISBELIEF BECAUSE IT IS SO CONVENIENT.

Quentyn: Well what is the likelihood of something like that happening?

Windblown Solider: Hey! You two! Drink and Frog! The leader of the Windblown Company, The Tattered Prince, wants to meet with you.

Archibald Yronwoon: You two? Two? What about me?

Solider: Yeah, whatever.

They go to the Tattered Prince, aka “Rags,” in his tent. 

Rags: Hey guys. Have you heard about this new, terrible plague that’s been striking the lands? Yeah, disease is ravaging and killing everyone in the countyside. Anyway, I’ve been ordered by our alliance to kill and/or drive away the hordes of sick and dying. But I was thinking… I have this really cool plan that could work with that. If we nominally follow this plan… I can send a small unit of like 20 people to drive the hordes of the sick and dying towards Meereen and the dragon queen… but that group of 20 people can then secretly flip teams and join Dany’s side.

Quentyn: WHAT?! LIKE OMG! We had, by total and complete coincidence, joined this company only with the intent of getting close enough to Dany so that we can flip and join her side! Only that plan was filled with perilous dangers such as being discovered and killed by you. Only now, through a TOTALLY CONTRIVED CONVIENIENT PLOT DEVELOPMENT INDICATIVE OF LAZY WRITING, you now WANT us to flip sides too. This also convieniently absolves us of the guilt I would have felt for betraying my brothers at arms for the last several weeks who I, as earlier in this chapter, noted that I had fought and become friends with.

Rags: Yeah, life just works out like that sometimes. You will be under the command of Pretty Meris.

Pretty Meris: Hi, I’m actually generally regarded as ugly with a horribly scarred face, but the name is supposed to be ironic.

Quentyn: An ugly female warrior who is mockingly called beautiful? Isn’t that already Brienne’s schtick?

Pretty Meris: I guess. Look, this is book 5. We’ve run out of ideas, so now we’re just repeating already used characters and using messy plot contrivances based on coincidence to move the story forward.

Hugh Hungerford, Windblown Solider: Wait… are we really thinking of changing sides? Sort of a dick thing to do.

Rags: Not openly. But we need Dany to think we are changing sides at least. To keep all roads open. She does have the Unsullied and FUCKING DRAGONS. She could easily win if she wants to use them. If the team we’re currently on wins, then we can pretend like the defection never happened, or that the defection was just part of a plot to capture and kill Dany.  But if Dany’s side wins, we can be like, “Yeah! Check it out! We joined your side.”

Hugh: Good point. We are mercenaries, and flipping sides is sort of what we do. But will Dany actually believe us?

Rags: Well, that’s why I’ve chosen this group of 20 people to be in on the plan and do it. You guys are all from Westeros. That’s the place where Dany comes from.  Since you’re all Westerosi, it will be much more plausible that  you’re defecting from the Windblown so that you can help your dragon queen claim her throne.

Lewis Lanster, another Windblown Solider: So when do we do this defection?

Rags: Uhh… like… now, dudes. Get going! You must not be caught. If any of the other soliders find you defecting, I will disavow any knowledge of this plan and label you as turncloaks.

Quentyn: Awesome, man. Well this random plan to join the Windblown really worked out well.

The team of 20 Westerosi soldiers, including the two Dornishmen, heads out… towards Meereen! 

Archibald Yronwood: WHAT?! TWO Dornishmen!  I'm here too!

Okay, whatever. "Three" Dornishmen.

ADwD 24: The Lost Lord (Jon Connington I)

Well, well, well. Look who gets a POV now! It’s old Jon Connington who has been hinted at for quite a while.

Jon: Yes, it is I. And we are now presently docked at Volon Therys, where we plan to meet with the Golden Company.

Septa Lemore: I don’t think we should reveal “Young Griff’s” identity to those sellswords. They are mercenaries who can’t be trusted. The plan was to not reveal his identity until we reached Dany.  I mean maybe we could have trusted them when your old friend, Myles Toyne, was in charge of them. But this new guy who look over… Harry Strickland… I don’t know about this guy.

Jon: Yeah, that USED to be our plan. When we thought Dany was coming west. But her butt is just sitting in Meereen now, not moving. We have to change things up. *sigh*

Connington thinks back to the Battle of the Bells at the Stoney Sept, which has indeed been referenced before.

Jon: If only I had killed Robert then. Rhagar would still be alive as king and so much bloodshed could have been avoided.

Lemore: Stop getting whimsical about the past. We need to be smart about the present. Illyrio’s plan was to—

Jon: —Illyrio had a lot of stupid plans that have wound up not working. It’s time to call an audible. I will not fail Rhaegar’s son like I failed him.

Halfmaester Haldon then returns to the ship after some chores that included gathering horses.

Jon: Oh, well well well. Look who has returned. Haldon the idiot who let Tyrion Lannister escape from us at that whorehouse.

Haldon: Everyone makes mistakes, dude. I don’t know what happened to him. I thought the dude just wanted to get laid. How was I supposed to know he’d run away from us? It’s weird. He totally seemed invested in the journey with us and wanted to go see Queen Dany. I have no idea why he would have fled our company.

Aegon: Griff! Griff! Why won’t you let me wash this dye out of my hair to show my beautiful, white Targaryen locks of hair. I’m tired pretending being this boy.

Jon: We are not ready to reveal you yet. But soon, I promise.

Aegon: Can we trust these mercenaries? Yollo / Hugor Hill / Tyrion told me not to trust anyone.

Jon: Yes, that’s good advice, especially coming from the little imp who ran away from us.  But we must not let healthy caution turn into paranoia. We will ride to the Golden Company’s camp and make our assessment of whether to reveal your true identity there.

And so they get on the horses and ride to the camp of the Golden Company.  For a rag-tag group of mercinaries, Connington notes that their camp is in pretty good order under Strickland.

Ser Franklyn Flowers: Ah, “Griff.” Greetings, I hope you have been well.

Jon: Yeah, just keep calling me “Griff.” I used to be part of the Golden Company and everybody knew me as Jon Connington. But that seems like it was ages ago now. Most probably won’t recognize me.  I allowed myself to be exiled from the company in disgrace as a cowardly drunkard. It was all part of Varys’s plan. He said that heroes are long remembered, but cowards forgotten and left for dead. I had to ruin my entire reputation in order for Varys and Illyrio’s plan to work. And so here I am. Fucking Varys. I’ll pay him back one day for that slight.

Flowers: Whatever, dood. Nobody wants your life story. Come on, let’s meet Strickland.

They go into Strickland’s tent.

Harry Strickland: Ah, greetings.

Jon: Hey Harry. Let me introduce the Golden Company to my young son, Griff.  Ahh… you know what? Fuck it! Everybody. This is MOTHERFUCKING AEGON TARGARYEN! The rightful heir to the Iron Throne!

Everyone in the tent is silent.

Jon: Is this an “everyone in the tent is in awe and shocked” kind of silence, or is it more of a “yeah, we already knew” kind of silence?

Harry: The latter.

Jon: Oh, wow. Geez man, this is like the worst kept secret in the world.

Harry: My men had to know that the boy was Aegon Targaryen, or else they would have never followed this plan to ally with you and Queen Dany.  There were many contracts we had to turn down to take this job. Rich contracts from Yunkai. My men would have questioned why we were refusing such splendor for a boy and a Queen who has enemies on all sides. By knowing that the child is Aegon, and that our ultimate goal is to return home after over 100 years of exile to take the Iron Throne… well… that is worth refusing a few contracts.

Golden Company Spymaster, Lysono Maar: My spies tell me that Queen Daenerys has not left Meereen, as she should have.  She is surrounded by enemies on all sides.

Tristan Rivers, of the Golden Company: We cannot reach her by sea, as there is a blockade.

Harry: Hrm. Then it would seem we would have to go by land. The demon road. But that is too dangerous.

Jon: Too dangerous? Are you a coward, man? This is supposed to be the world’s greatest mercenary company!

Harry: And mercenary companies stay in business by only accepting contracts to fight in fights that they can WIN. Dead men can’t use the money they made.

Aegon: ENOUGH! I have a proposal… an alternate plan!

This time there is silence again. But it’s more of the “shock” type of silence.

Aegon: Let Dany take care of Dany. She was supposed to come west, but she didn’t. I don’t need her to claim the Seven Kingdoms. I can claim them on my own. Let us sail to Westeros now!

Harry: What? No! We need Dany for the people of Westeros to accept your claim. But more importantly, we need her army of Unsullied, Dothraki, and dragons to join our forces.

Jon: You know what? It wasn’t my plan to propose this. This seems to be the boy’s idea on his own. But the more I think about it… he’s right! It’s a bold move. Now might be the time to strike.

Tristan: I agree! Robert Baratheon didn’t need dragons to take the Iron Throne. Neither do we.

Harry: What? No! It’s crazy talk! If we invade now… we will be it. You will have nobody to support your claim other than the Golden Company. We need a bigger force.

Jon: You show your cowardice again, Strickland! Besides, we will have a bigger force as soon as we land. If we land in Dorne… all of Dorne will rally behind Queen Elia’s trueborn son, Aegon!

Aegon: Yes, this is my wish. And you know what? I’m your King. So what do you say? Are you with me?

Harry: Hrm. *internally contemplates whether or not he actually knows that Aegon isn’t Aegon, but is instead a Blackfyre descendant, and hence why the Golden Company really supports him*

The men of the Golden Company start bowing down.

Tristan: I pledge my sword to you, King Aegon!

Soldier: As do I!

Other Solider: And I!

Jon: Wow, I can’t believe Aegon proposed this plan. It’s a side of the boy I’ve never seen before. His idea is not prudent… but I am tired of being cautious. The boy is right. Now is the time for the boy to claim the Iron Throne… and for me to reclaim my honor!

Connington then looks down at the nail on his middle finger, which has turned jet black.

Yeah, he touched one of the Stone Men when he dove in to save Tyrion from the water. So there you go. Jon Connington gets it in the books. Not Jorah.

Jon: I’m not sure how long I have left. A year? Two? Five. Some men who get Greyscale can live up to ten years before they become Stone Men. That’s more than enough time to put Rhaegar’s son on the Iron Throne!

Aegon: Hey Griff, what are you whispering to yourself over in that corner?

Jon: Uhh… nothing.

ADwD 23: Daenerys IV

The high priestess of the Ghiscari Temple of the Graces, Galazza “The Green Grace” Galare, comes to meet with Dany.

Dany: Oh hi. What do you want to talk with me about, old priestess lady?

Green Grace: Oh, you know, I’m just here to council you on how to run the city, because you’re pretty terrible at it and everything you’ve touched is falling apart.

Dany: Ouch. A little harsh.

Green Grace: Let’s talk external affairs first. Qarth, New Ghis and Tolos are now blockading the river and the bay. Astapor is in the middle of a horrendous civil war. The envoys you sent out to make peace with other cities have been murdered by the rulers of those cities.

Dany: Yeah, so I’m guessing that’s a “no” as an answer, huh?

Green Grace: That’s not the worst of it. Internally here in Meereen things are no better. Obviously the Sons of the Harpy have been killing your soldiers. In retaliation, you have taken children of many of the families to be hostages.  I know this all too well, because some of my own family members are your hostages.

Dany: Bringing that up is sort of awkward, and I was hoping you wouldn’t.

Green Grace: Yet the killings have continued, despite the hostages. Hypothetically, you should retaliate by killing your hostages in respond to their killing of your men.  Look, I’m glad you haven’t. Like I said, my own family are hostages and I don’t want them to be killed.

Dany: I am no butcher queen! Murdering children is not what I do.

Green Grace: Yeah, I get that and I support that. It’s totally cool with me. But it’s doing nothing to stop the killings.  You can be noble like that, but that won’t win the old houses of Meereen over to your side. You’re not of Ghiscari blood like they are. They’ll always think of you as an outsider. An invader. A conqueror.

Dany: Well, I’ll always be that because I am from the outside. How could I ever win them over? I can’t change who I am and where I come from.

Green Grace: But you can do this… marry a local! Marry a man of pure Ghiscari blood. A nobleman from one of the families. Someone like Hizdar zo Loraq. Then the people who rebel against you will see you as one of them, because Hizdar is one of them.

Dany: Hrm. Hizdar? You mean the guy who I have already thought about as being somewhat attractive? It’s pretty convenient that you mention him specifically. However, I must point out to you that Hizdar is the SUPER ANNOYING GUY WHO KEEPS COMING BEFORE ME, ASKING TO REOPEN THE FIGHTING PITS. I’m getting super tired of hearing it.

Green Grace: Get over it, honey. The people would love you if you reopen the fighting pits.

Dany: Hrm. I’ll think about it. Shavepate Skahaz mo Kandaq won’t like that idea.

Green Grace: Well, the Shavepate also wants to use every minor incident to execute a hostage. He’s out of toothpaste? Harpies must have used it all up… so execute a hostage! He stubbed his toe on a brick? Must be the fault of the Sons of the Harpies… execute a hostage?

Dany: This is true.

Later, Dany meets with Hizdar.

Dany: Hey boy.

Hizdar: Uhh… so why did you ask to summon me here? Is it to chastise me about the fighting pits again? Because we usually only do that on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. But this is a Tuesday.

Dany: No, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get married or some shit like that.

Hizdar: How romantic.

Dany: I mean I’ll be thinking about Daario when I’m with you, but… you know… political alliance and whatnot.

Hizdar: Well, this is not entirely surprising. I have spoken with the Green Grace about this matter. It could end the violence and bring peace to Meereen.

Dany: Yes, I am aware of that. I mean I find you moderately good looking enough and everything, but this is all business.

Hizdar: We would also be able to end our wars if you make peace with Yunkai.

Dany: Make peace with Yunkai? But the only peace terms they’d accept are ones where they get to reopen their slave trade.

Hizdar: True.

Dany: No. Fucking. Way. But on the domestic side… okay, Hizdar… this is my proposal. 90 days. If you can find a way to have peace in this city for 90 days with no killings… then I will marry you.

Hizdar: That seems sort of backwards. The very problem is that the people of Meereen don’t trust you and you need an alliance with a Ghiscari-blooded person for them to trust you, then there will be peace.  Yet you say you want peace and then you marry a Ghiscari-blooded person. I mean… it’s sort of… you know… odd. If you have peace, when why bother marrying—

Dany: —Shut up and kiss me now!

Hizdar: Uhh, okay.

He kisses her.

Dany: I felt nothing.

Hizdar: Yeah, well I’m sort of into black girls myself, but I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers. If it is your wish to marry me in 90 days, I will do the best I can to ensure that there is no bloodshed.

Dany: I mean it's not really my WISH to marry you. I sort of have to.  My wish is for a magical sword that I could use to defeat all my enemies. You don't happen to have one of those, do you?

Hizdar: Uhh... no.

Dany: Okay, then we'll do the marriage thing. But if you find a magic sword, I'd like one of those too.

Hizdar then bows and exits.  Dany looks over to Barristan, who is passive-aggressively shaking his head.

Dany: What? WHAT? I see you being all judgmental. You don’t approve?

Barristan: A marriage alliance with Hizdar helps you rule Meereen, it’s true. But Meereen is not your goal. Westeros is your goal. A marriage to Hizdar will do absolutely NOTHING to secure your place on the Iron Throne. In fact, it actively works against your chances of getting it.  If you go over to Westeros unmarried, then a marriage pact with one of the great houses of Westeros will suit you well. The promise of marriage and children with some Westerosi Lord will—

Dany: —Hahaha, children! That’s funny. My womb has got fucking spiderwebs in it ever since that goddamn Lhazareen Witch.

Barristan: You also do not love this. Man. Your father did not love your mother, and you can see how that relationship turned out.

Dany: Why did they even get married?

Barristan: Because a woods witch said that the prince was promised would be born from their line.

Dany: You mean The Prince THAT Was Promised?

Barristan: Actually, on page 329 of the mass paperback edition I simply say "prince was promised."

Dany: Geez, you'd think that with how popular these books are, the editors would have caught something like that.

Barristan: Anyway, you just need to think about it. Securing victories here is not your ultimate goal. Who cares if Daario just returned from meeting with the Lamb Men after making a trade deal? In the big picture, minor stuff like that doesn’t mat—

Dany: —WHAT?! DAARIO IS BACK?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS BEFORE?!

Barristan: I… uh… erm…

Dany: *touching herself* SEND HIM TO ME AT ONCE!

Barristan: *grumble*

Hence, Daario Naharis is brought forward to the throne.

Daario: Hey babe. *smiles and his golden tooth shimmers*

Dany: Hi. Pretend to not notice me swooning. Why did you not immediately come to me upon your return?

Daario: Because I was not summoned, my Queen.

Dany: You look malnourished. When was the last time you ate?

Daario: I have not had a bite in two days, but now all I need is to feast on your beauty.

Dany: *blushes* Aww, that's sweet. Yet my beauty provides no nutritional value.

Daario: Some fruit would be fine. Perhaps a peach. And just to make it clear, by "peach" I am referring to the slang term for vagina. 

Dany: Maybe later.

Daario: Anyway, I have good news. The Lamb Men have agreed to trade with us.

Dany: Yeah, that’s awesome and all. Too bad all of our trade routes have been cut off now, so that the deal no longer has any meaning. Now come over here so I can sit on your face.

Daario: If you ask me, you can easily re-open those trade routes… just use your dragons!

Dany: Grr. I wish you wouldn’t have mentioned them. Drogon is still missing, and Viserion and Rhaegal grow increasingly brutal every day.

Daario: Why have dragons if you don’t use them?

Dany’s mood flips.

Dany: Listen… asshole… I have news for you. I plan to marry Hizdar in 90 days.

Daario: Uhh… why?

Dany: To make peace. Marrying into the Ghiscari blood might end the murders being carried out by the Sons of the Harpy.

Daario: That’s a stupid way to deal with that issue. There is a much easier way. Simply KILL THEM ALL.

Dany: Oh really? And how do you propose we do that when we don’t even know who they are? They wear those Harpy masks and everything.

Daario: Oh, you know who they are. They are the heads of the great old houses. Maybe even Hizdar himself.

Dany: What evidence do you have of this?

Daario: Evidence, shmevidence. They are the only ones with motives to kill you and your Unsullied. They were in power before and now they are not. Murder them all in their sleep and be done with them.

Dany: You would have be become a butcher queen?

Daario: In this world… you are either the butcher or you are the meat. Which do you plan to be, my lovely Queen?

Dany: I shall be neither. I am different.

Daario: Yes, you are different. You are a warrior. You are a ruler. Most queens simply exist to be the property of a king. They lay in beds and pop out babies. I did not think that was your destiny. However, if you choose to marry Hizdar… that is what you will become.

Dany: GGGRRRR! HOW DARE YOU! GET OUT OF MY SITE! I order you and the Stormcrows out of the city! Go… uhh… guard the Khyzai Pass or something like that. Far away. I HATE YOU!

Later that night in bed, she cries regretting sending Daario away. Has she made a mistake?

Dany: What Daario proposed is monstrous. But then again, I am the mother of dragons… a mother of monsters! Yet I keep my babies locked away beneath the pyramid. Maybe I should use the dragons. Maybe I should be a monster.

ADwD 22: Tyrion VI

Tyrion is alive. Not that you actually thought he drowned or anything. He dreams of the Shrouded Lord, ruler of the Stone Men. Only in his dream, the Shrouded Lord has the face of his father.

He wakes up, back aboard the Shy Maid.

Haldon: Ah, welcome back to the land of the living.

Tyrion: Where… what?... Ughh… my mouth tastes like blood.

Haldon: Yeah, Jon Connington jumped in and saved your life. Who knows why he even bothered?  You were half dead. Most of us said that we should through you back in, lest we risk getting infected by the Greyscale ourselves. But the young Prince forbade it.

Tyrion: SHIT! GREYSCALE!

Tyrion frantically begins to check his body. Did the Stone Man touch his skin directly? Or did he only have contact with his clothes?

Haldon: I have tested you for signs of Greyscale, but I have seen none. So far. Who knows. You swallowed a lot of water out there. Water full of Stone Men. Maybe it’s inside of you, slowly turning your insides to stone in a way we can’t see.  It takes years. You’ll need to keep checking for the rest of your life.

Tyrion: Well, aren’t you just a cheery deer? I’m going to ignore everything after your first sentence and tell myself that all you meant to say was “I have tested you for signs of Greyscale, but I have seen none.”  So where the hell are we? Our boat seems to be still.

Haldon: We have docked at Selhorys. The people in town are worried about a possible incoming attack by the Dothraki. We must have caution before we proceed further. There are Volantis warships everywhere.

Tyrion gets up and begins walking around. He sees Septa Lemore, only she is now in disguise and is not dressed as a Septa.

Tyrion: Hrm. Are you actually a Septa now disguised as a common woman… or is it the Septa persona which was always the disguise? Pretty much everyone on this ship had false identities, myself included.

Aegon: I’m so annoyed that we have to stay on this ship. Can’t we just go?

Haldon: No. Did you not hear anything I just said about the Dothraki and Volantis warships?

Tyrion: Come, “Young Griff,” I know this must be boring to you. Let’s play some cyvasse to pass the time.

And so the two over to the other side of the deck to play some chess. Of course, Tyrion uses this as an opportunity for more strategic conversation.

Tyrion: Hrm. Bold move you made there. Rash. I’m going to interpret your moves in this board game as tactics that your armies would use on the battlefield.

Aegon: Why? We’re just playing a board game. The two have nothing to do with each other.

Tyrion: According to chess players they do. Pretentious-ass chess players believe that you can interpret a person’s entire personality based on how they play this game.

Aegon: Well, that’s just dumb.

Tyrion: I have a question about this plan… to just show up to Queen Daenerys, announce that you’re her long-lost nephew, marry her, and move on. First of all, what makes you think Dany will believe you even are Aegon? Aegon had his head bashed against a wall and—

Aegon: —That wasn’t me! That was some boy from the pisswater who I was swapped out with.

Tyrion: So be it. Whatever. Let’s say maybe she does believe you. She thought she would be queen herself. Now she has a rival – you. Someone with a stronger claim. Someone who just shows up and demands to marry her. From what I hear, this Dany is Aegon the Conqueror, but with boobs. And by the way, I've heard a lot about her, apparently. In this chapter, I will ramble off all sorts of knowledge about the life incidents, personality, and temperament of Daenerys Targaryen. All this despite never having met her and despite the fact that the people of Westeros only have a hazy, vague notion of what's been going on in Essos. The statements I make about Dany in this chapter are very overly accurate and specific, almost as if I was an omnipotent character. Not to criticize the writing in this chapter or anything.

Aegon: Eh, all that “working on the alliance” stuff is Lord Connington’s duty. He’ll figure it out. He’s good with that kind of stuff. 

Tyrion: Is he now? If I were you… I wouldn’t trust anyone.

Aegon: Well then I shouldn’t trust you.

Tyrion: That’s the smartest thing you’ve said the whole time I’ve been with you.  If I might… suggest an alternative plan to the one that Jon Connington, Varys, and Illyrio have conceived.

Aegon: I’m listening.

Tyrion: Once you get to your ships and reach the Golden Company… have your ships sail west, not east. Go to Dorne where your mother Elia is from. They will rally around Elia’s son and the true heir to the throne.  There has never been a better time to strike than NOW. Right now, there is a small boy sitting on the throne and my sister, Cersei, rules.  She is incompetent and overly full of herself. She alienates everyone she knows. And yet, presently, the people of Westeros have no valid alternative to her.  Oh, Stannis Baratheon is still around but nobody loves him.  Years from now, things could be different. But now… the Iron Throne is ripe for the picking! People will come to you in flocks.

Aegon: Hrmm. I dunno.  Is my army big enough? Even if people come to us in flocks. I was sort of hoping that Danerys’s forces would join with ours.

Tyrion: Why go to the Queen? Make her come to you. When she learns that her dear nephew, Aegon Targaryen, is alive and well and has returned to Dorne to claim the Seven Kingdoms… who knows what her initial reaction will be.  Maybe she will be pleased to hear that another Targayen lives, or maybe she will be angry that she has a rival.  Either way, it will be YOU who is in the position of power then.  If you go to her, it will be as a beggar asking for marriage to make yourself stronger.  But if you get the jump on her first… then it will need to be her that comes to you in order to catch-up. If any of the stories we hear about her are true… she is a rescuer. She recues people and slaves. She will come to “rescue” you too. It might even be her that proposes the marriage alliance in that case when she arrives. Oh, and also… CHECKMATE.

Aegon looks down at the board. Indeed, Tyrion has defeated him.  He knocks over the board in anger.

Tyrion: Hahahah, I guess that you really ARE a Targaryen.

Conveniently, just as the game is done, others arrive so that the narrative can move forward with additional plot developments.

Jon Connington: I am not hearing good news. It seems as if Volantis might soon join the war against Dany. But there is somone who will know more information for sure, a Customs officer named Qavo in the city. Haldon, Tyrion… go find him and see what he might now.

And so the two head out to meet the Customs officer.

Tyrion: This is gonna be like a buddy comedy!

Haldon: No, it’s not.

Along they way, they run into a High Priest, Benerro, who is preaching about you-know-who…

Benerro: The Queen in Meereen, Daenerys! She is the breaker of chains and fights for freedom. Not just freedom from chains, but the freedom of our souls! For she is the Prince that was Promised! She is Azor Ahai reborn!

Tyrion: Nifty.  Now how are we going to find this Qavo guy?

They reach a giant sign which says “Customs Office.”

Tyrion: Oh, never mind.

Qavo: What’s up? Who the hell are you two assholes?

Haldon: Griff sent us. Or maybe you know him as Jon Connington. Whatever, he tells us that you can tell us stuff about Dany and this war.

Qavo: Ah yes. The city thirsts for war against the dragon queen. She is apparently a horrible monster with an appetite for sex and murder than cannot be satiated.

Tyrion: Well, according to her enemies. Which are all slave-owners who she liberated slaves from.

Qavo: True. But I also heard it on Fox News.

Tyrion and Haldon give a knowing glance at one another.

Qavo: That Benerro should keep his mouth shut about supporting the dragon queen, unless he wants trouble.

Tyrion: Is that all? Is that why we were sent to see this Qavo guy? Just to have him repeat some BS nonsense he heard from Fox News?

Haldon: I guess.

Tyrion: Ugh. What a pain in the ass. OH HEY LOOK! This city has whorehouses too! Over there.

Next to the Customs Office is a sign that says “Whores.” It’s quite convenient and direct to the point.

Tyrion: Hrm. “Wherever Whores Go.” Perhaps this is where my beloved Tysha wound up. It’s been so long.  I… I… I just need to be with a woman again.

Haldon: Whatever dude. *checks watch* Just be quick about it.

Tyrion walks in to the whorehouse.

Tyrion: Hey, is Tysha here?

Madame: (in broken common tongue) I don’t know anyone by that name.

Tyrion: Oh, I married her like a ton of years ago back in Westeros. Then my father found out and made bunch of Lannister soldiers run a train on her. Then they told me a lie that she was a whore (which I believed for several years) and sent her away.

Madame: No. Why would a Westerosi woman from a ton of years ago be randomly here in an Selhorys whorehouse half-way across the world… simply because your father lied about her being a whore when she wasn’t?

Tyrion: You make valid points.

Madame: So do you want to see a whore or not? You know, one of the ones that we ACTUALLY have?  How about that one there…

She points to one that is clearly from Westeros.

Tyrion: Dafuq? I’m white… and, like, every whore in here is not white except for that one you pointed to. That’s pretty racist. Why you gotta assume I wanted the white one?

Madame: So you DON’T want the white one?

Tyrion: *sigh*… No, I actually do want the white one. And wine. A whole bunch of wine. As much wine as you have.

So Tyrion goes up and has unsatisfying, awkward, brief sexual intercourse with a Westerosi girl (who speaks none of the common tongue because she was obviously kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery at a young age) and gets COMPLETELY SHITFACED. When he’s done, he stumbles down the stairs.

Tyrion: Ughh… my head hurts.

Voice: IMP!

Tyrion: Huh? What? Who is calling me that? That’s not my name. I’m “Hugor Hill.”

He looks up, and sees a Westerosi man, wearing a bear on his surcoat. He sits on the lap of a hooker who looks nearly identical to Daenerys.

Tyrion: Oh wow,  that girl is hot looking. If I had seen her, I would have picked her instead of that poor sex-trafficked girl I was with.  It’s good to see someone who speaks the common tongue! Have a drink with me!

Jorah Mormont: I’ve drunk enough.

He pushes his whore aside and pulls out his sword.

Jorah: I’m going to deliver you… TO THE QUEEN!

Tyrion: Yeah, but there are multiple ones. To which are you referring?

ADwD 21: Jon V

Stannis has finally left Castle Black.

Jon: Thank goodness, what a pain in the ass he was. Maybe he’ll actually listen to my advice on where to attack.

Bowen Marsh: Well, I guess you can move back into Mormont’s old chambers now that Stannis is gone, huh? After all, it is where the Lord Commander is supposed to live. You were just being courteous to Stannis after he helped us defeat those Wildlings and basically saved your life.

Jon: There is no time for that! I must ride to Moletown at once!

Bowen: Haha, oh yeah. We make those vows, sure enough. But we all have needs. Honestly though, that Melisandre woman has been eyeing you up hard, bro. You don’t need to go to Molestown. You can stay right here.

Jon: NOT FOR THAT!

Bowen: I thought you liked gingers.

Jon: I… uh… SHUT UP, BOWEN! I’m going there to recruit Wildling fighters. We need them desperately.

Bowen: Lord Commander, I’d really urge against going to Moletown. Your plan is folly. We cannot trust these—

But Jon leaves mid sentence. 

Bowen: Ugh, nobody ever listens to me anyway.

On the way to Moletown, Jon and his entourage cross some trees with freshly-carved faces on them.

Jon: Ha. Stannis made every Wildling who canted to cross over to this side of the Wall bow to him and renounce the old gods. But you can see they just lied when they renounced them. Good to see I got some fellow old god worshipers here.

Dolorous Edd: Melisandre won’t be happy about that.

Jon: She must never know!

Edd: And how exactly to you expect to keep it a secret from her? That bitch can see things in her fires.

They arrive at Moletown and find a bunch of Wildlings hanging around. Men who Stannis allowed to cross the Wall and live on this side.

Jon: Hrm. This group is pretty sad looking, but not as sad as I might have imagined. There are a couple of Thenns, a few Hornfoots, and Halleck (the brother of Harma, Stannis’s fallen Vanguard commander).  Maybe we have something to work with here.

The Members of the Night’s Watch dismount and begin handing out food to the Wildlings.

Wilding: HEY! Is that all I’m getting?

Jon: Yeah, deal with it.

Wildling: You crows on the Wall eat much better than us! WE NEED FOOD!

Jon: Oh, I’m sorry. Are these a bunch of assholes here who are getting free food from us, who are also complaining about not getting ENOUGH free food!

Wildling: Yes.

Jon: The same Wildlings whose Stannis’s army could have either massacred or simply not allowed to cross the Wall at all, so that they would be left north to be killed by the Others and the Wights.

Wildling: Well, when you put it like that, we just sound like dicks.

Jon: BECAUSE YOU ARE DICKS! Listen… if any of you wants to eat like a brother of the Night’s Watch… then come and stand with us brothers of the Night’s Watch. Defend the Walls with me.

Sigorn, the New Magnar of Thenn: NO! We have spent our whole life fighting you crows! Now you want us to become your slaves?

Jon: Slaves? No. We are all free men. I don’t care which gods you worship, nor do I demand that you formally take the vows and become a sworn brother yourself. I don’t need you to kneel to me. I just need you to obey the commands of the people who give you orders.  I will take any man over the age of 12, even those who cannot fight. There are things you can help with beyond fighting.

Wildling Girl: HEY! Why only men? Woman can help out too! We Wildling girls fight harder than most Southern boys like you.

Jon: You know what? You’re right. We’re up shit creek without a paddle. I will take ANYONE over 12, boy or girl.

Edd: Bet that’s not the first time that’s been said here at Moletown.

Jon: Shut up, Edd. You’re not helping.  SO COME ON, FREE FOLK! Who is with me?

The girl is the first to step forward.

Wildling Girl: I’ll do it! I need some damn food.

Others begin to join her and step forward too.

Halleck: I’ll join!

In the end, 63 Wildings join Jon.

Jon: 63? Oh man, that’s creepy. That’s the exact same number of men who just surrendered at Moat Cailin in the last chapter, and who Ramsay had executed. Why is GRRM so obsessed with 63 all of a sudden?

Edd: You want my guess?

Jon: Go for it.

Edd: This book came out in 2011. George R.R. Martin was born in 1948. He would have turned 63 the year this book came out.

Jon: Well, that’s just as plausible as any other explanation.

Jon notices, however, that absolutely ZERO Thenns have joined though. 

Jon: Whatever, fuck those guys anyway.

So he heads back to Castle Black, with 63 more recruits.

Bowen: Oh great! 63 more mouths to feed… and a bunch of girls too! You know why we have those “no women” rules at the castle, right Lord Commander? There are gonna be rapes and fights. You know that our forces are basically just made from banished rapists and murderers of Westeros.

Jon: These women know how to defend themselves.

Bowen: What happens when one of these Wildling girls slits the throats of some guy who tries to rape her?

Jon: Then we’ll still be up 62 recruits.

Bowen: Your really think these Wildlings will be loyal? What happens when it comes time to fight. Will they flee? Or worse yet… what happens when their fellow Wildlings come attacking? What happens when Tormund Giantsbane is at our Walls, attacking us?  Which side will these Wildlings be on? Will they immediately defect… and then we’ll have enemies fighting us on both sides?

Jon: Well, let’s just hope it never comes to that.

Bowen: That’s a super shitty answer. I can see why everyone is questioning your leadership skills and talking about stabbing you to death.

Jon: What was that?

Bowen: Huh? What? I didn’t say anything.

ADwD 20: Reek (Theon) II

Reek, under the guise of his former identity of Theon Greyjoy, has been bathed and is dressed in good clothes. He rides up with a number of Bolton soliders to Moat Cailin, waving a white flag of truce.
Reek: I must not let this plan fail! Ramsay promises me that I get to live outside of the dungeon if I succeed in this mission. Why, I’ll get to live up in the kennel with his dog! What an improvement! I may even get to share some raw steaks with them. Mmmm Mmm! But to succeed… I’ve got to pretend to be someone I’m not. I’ve got to pretend to be… THEON GREYJOY!

Bolton Solider: Stop narrating to yourself, dude.

Reek: Sorry.

They reach the gate of Moat Cailin.

Ironborn Guard: Halt! Who goes there?

Reek: It is I, Lord Balon’s son. I have come to treat with you.

Guard: What? No way! Lord Balon’s son is dead and… ah… oh hell… I might as well let you in. There are a bunch of bog people who live out here and they are annoying. Always shooting at us with arrows. Let’s take this convo inside.

Reek: Yeah, Crannogmen are like that.

They go inside.

Reek sees that conditions are almost as bad inside the castle as they were outside. And the outside was pretty bad itself, what with there being dead bodies littering the roadways to the Moat. The Ironborn soliders who Victarion Greyjoy left to command here are sick, weak, poorly supplied, and dying.

Reek: I demand to see the leader.

Guard: Leader? Ah, well that’s Ralf Kenning over there in the bed. But he’s practically dead from an infected wound. He’s peeing himself and foaming from the mouth.

Reek: Ugh. You should just kill him and end his misery.

Guard: Why don’t YOU do that, asshat?

Reek: Yeah, okay.

Reek walks to the bed and stabs Kenning with his sword, with absolutely zero emotion. 

Guard: Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d actually… uhh… I… erm…

Reek: Okay, so now that he’s dead… can I speak to your new leader? Who was second in command?

Guard: Geez, I guess that would be Dagon Codd. 

Reek: Ugh. A Codd? Those guys are the worst. They are the lamest house in the Iron Isles and nobody respects them.

Guard: HEY! I’m a Codd!

Reek: I regret nothing and stand by my words. Now come on, let’s go see Dagon.

And so they head over to see Dagon. Along the way, Reek sees a bunch more sick, dying, soldiers.

Reek: Greetings, Ironborn. I am Theon Greyjoy. I bring you an offer from Lord Ramsay Bolton. If you surrender now and leave your arms, Ramsay will allow you to return to your homes and your reaving ways. There will be no punishment. Bolton will even give you a nice, hot meal and let you go on your way.

Soldiers: What? R-really?

Dagon Codd: Don’t listen to him, men! The Ironborn NEVER surrender! Victarion told us to hold this castle until he returns… and so we shall!

Reek: Hrm. Victarion. Why exactly did he leave you here in the first place?

Dagon: He went to the Kingsmoot.

Reek: And who won the Kingsmoot?

Dagon: Euron.

Reek: That’s right. Euron. Not Victarion. Do you really think Euron cares if you live or die? You’re Victarion’s men. Not his. In fact, he’d probably prefer you die. As for Victarion... I hear that he has new orders from Euron. He’s down south, raiding the Reach. There is NO WAY Victarion is ever coming back here. That's the saddest thing of all for you guys. Not only does Euron not care. Vitcarion doesn't care either. You’ve been abandoned.

Reek looks at the eyes of the men. He knows they believe him.

Dagon: NEVER! Victarion will come back for us, he will! We’re never giving up, you turncloak bastard! You’re no true son of Balon if you’re working for these landlubbin’ Boltons! I’ll kill your traitorous ass myself!

Dagon jumps up to attack Reek, but as he’s about to strike, an axe flies across the room and hits him. He falls to the ground and dies.

Reek: Whoa. Nice shot, whoever threw that!

Adrack Humble: It was me! Hehe, yeah. I’m pretty good at throwing axes. Some say I’m the best.

Reek: Well I guess you’re not so HUMBLE after all, are you?

Guard: Ugh. A dad joke? Really, Theon?

Reek: Sorry. So, who’s surrendering?

Everyone raises their hands. Well, almost everyone. There are several people too weak and sick to even do that.

Reek: Haha, victory! Ramsay will be so happy with me. Looks like I’ll be feasting with the dogs in the kennel tonight on all the Beggin Strips I desire!

Time jump to a few hours in the future.  Reek delivers the surrendering Ironborn to Ramsay.

Reek: 59… 60… 61… 62… aaaand… 63! There you go, my master. Only 63 Ironborn survived in Moat Cailin and all of them are here.

Ramsay Bolton: Ah, well done. Well done! Men of the Iron Isles, you have chosen well to surrender! A hot dinner awaits you all tonight. You have a long journey ahead to the shore, where you can set sail to go home to your wives and children.

The Ironborn head off to dinner, while Ramsay turns back to a very nervous Reek.

Ramsay: You did so well. I think you deserve a reward.

But Reek, of course, thinks it’s a trap.

Reek: N-no reward, master. S-s-serving you is my only reward.

Ramsay: Come now! Surely you feel like Theon Greyjoy again after all you did today.

Reek: N-no. That was all an act, Lord Ramsay. I am your Reek. It rhymes with “the capital of Mozambique.”

Ramsay: “Reek” doesn’t rhyme with “Maputo.”

Reek: S-sorry, my lord. Begging your pardons for the confusion. It was entirely m-my fault. I mean it literally rhymes with the words “the capital of Mozambique.” N-not the actual name of the capital. Please don’t cut off any more fingers.

Ramsay: Haha, oh Reek! You adorable cad! Come now, you have to want SOMETHING as a reward. You saved me from a long, bloody siege of this castle. My father will be pleased to hear about then when he arrives.

Reek: Some wine would be nice. Enough wine to make a man full!

Ramsay: Haha, you've done a man's job, sir! But are you truly a man?

Reek: Is that a Blade Runner reference?

Ramsay: Yes. What I'm trying to say is you're NOT a man, Reek. You’re my fucking pet. But yes, you’ll get your wine. Yeah, I’ll make you a dog collar and you can sleep with my dogs, and share a chicken with them, along with all the sour wine you want!

Ramsay keeps his word, and Reek eats chicken with Ramsay’s hounds and gets shitfaced on cheap, sour wine. He’s so shitfaced that he hears screams of agony in the distance, and doesn’t even care. He passes out, drunk.

The next morning he wakes up and sees freshly impaled and flayed dead bodies along the side of the road.

Exactly 63 of them.

Reek: Honestly, I still don’t care. I got my wine and chicken and absolutely zero people care if Adrack Humble is dead.

A few days later, Lord Roose Bolton arrives with a bunch of Freys, including Hosteen and Aenys.

Reek: Oh, hi Anus. I remember you from when I used to ride with Robb. Before I betrayed him, that is. But then you betrayed him too. So I guess we're on the same side again in the end, Anus.

Aenys: “Ah-knees! Its pronounced Ah-knees!”

Ramsay rides up to meet with his father.

Ramsay: Father, Moat Cailin is yours.

Roose Bolton: Ah, excellent. I can see you’re not as a totally incompetent dipshit as I thought you were. It makes me glad that I brutally raped your bother and then, decades later, asked the King to legitimize you. 

Ramsay: *awkward half-smirk*

Reek: Wow. I remember back in the day when I used to mock Roose because I thought he looked dumb. I must have been crazy. This dude is a stone cold killer.

Roose: Son, may I introduce you to my new wife, Lady Walda Frey.

Ramsay: Wow, that’s a Frey? She looks like a Manderly.

Roose: *ahem* And here is my OTHER traveling companion, your betrothed… the Lady… ARYA STARK!

Reek does a double take when he hears the name. Arya was sort of like a sister to him growing up.

Reek: This girl… she doesn’t look like Arya. Does she? Maybe she grew up. Girls do that. Wait. No. Holy shit! That’s not Arya! That’s Sansa’s friend, Jeyne Poole!

Jeyne Poole / Fake Arya walks up to Ramsay and curtsies.

Jeyne: Lord Ramsay, I pray to make you a good wife and give you strong sons.

Reek: Yeah, Arya would never say anything like that. She’s throw something in his face and threaten to murder him in his sleep.

Ramsay: Good, good my dear Arya. We will have sons. And SOON! Wait, how old is Arya at this points in the books again?

Jeyne: 11.

Ramsay: Oh. Man, that seems pretty messed up. Even for me.

ADwD 19: Davos III

Davos has been imprisoned by Lord Wyman Manderly for two weeks.

Davos: The hell, man? Am I going to get some sort of trial or something?

Guard: Oh hey, the big man wants to see you.

Davos: Hahaha! Big man! I get it!

Guard: Hehehe, yeah. It’s a good one, right? You see… because he is both the “big man” in the sense that Lord Manderly is the Lord of White Harbor, and thus the highest ranking official in this city. However, in addition to that he is also morbidly obese from eating all that eel pie. Thus it’s sort of a double entendre.

Davos: Don’t explain the joke, asshole. That ruins the humor.

Guard: Fair enough. Oh, and by the way, I'm not just a guard. I'm Lord Wyman's cousin, Marlon. Marlon Wayans Manderly.

Davos is brought before Manderly. He is very dismayed to see that Wyman is surrounded by a bunch of asshats wearing Frey logos on their jerkins.

Solider: KNEEL BEFORE LORD MANDERLY, LOWLY ONION KNIGHT!

Davos: I’m sorry, but I cannot kneel before him.

Everyone in Court: *gasp*

Davos: No, it’s not a sign of disrespect. It’s just a basic matter of diplomatic protocol. You see, given my status of Hand of the King for Stannis Baratheon, I’m his representative and proxy in this court.  Which technically means that I can’t kneel to Manderly because it would be the same as Stannis kneeling to Manderly. And obviously a king doesn’t kneel before a lord. It goes the other way around.

Everyone in Court, Except the Freys: Oh yeah. That makes sense. Good point!

Rhaegar, Jared and Symond Frey: HEY!!!! WAIT A MINUTE!!! NOOO!!! BOOO!!! BOO!!!

Wyman’s Granddaughter, Wynafryd: Right, exactly. Boo to this guy Davos for not bowing to my granddad. This guy calls himself the Hand of the King? Please. He's a hand without fingers!

Everyone in Court: OH SNAP! Good one, Wynafryd!

Wynafryd: And I’m not just saying that because I’m being forcibly married to Rhaegar Frey, despite the fact that his family is presently holding my father as a hostage and murdered my uncle Wendel at the Red Wedding.

Lord Manderly: Yes, you are no true representative of a king, Davos. You are but an onion smuggler. I mean maybe if you were an eel pie smuggler, it would be one thing.

Davos: Really? Says the dickwad who is now allying with the people who killed his son and has his other son as a hostage?

Jared: LIES! LIES! THAT’S NOT TRUE AT ALL! Everyone knows what REALLY happened at the Red Wedding…

Robb Stark: Oh hey everyone. I just got done raping babies. A whole lot of babies.

Lord Frey: What? No! That’s a terrible thing to do! Stop doing that, Robb.

Cat Stark: No way, Walder. We Starks love raping babies. And we’re going to do it forever!

Lord Frey: We Freys are not people of violence, so we don’t want to hurt you. But that type of behavior is completely reprehensible. We’ve got to find a diplomatic way to get you to stop doing this, for the sake of babies everywhere.

Robb Stark: How dare you try to stop me from raping babies! YOU HAVE ANGERED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!

Robb Stark transforms into a direwolf and starts killing men, women and children without any regard. He kills his own mother, and then kills Wendel Manderly, and then kills Jinglebell.

Wolf Robb: MWHAHAHA! My thirst for the blood of the innocent will not be satisfied until I kill you too, Walder Frey!

Lord Frey: Oh no! Although the Frey Motto is, “Violence is Never the Answer”… I’m afraid on this one occasion, we Freys must break that holy vow of peace and love to stop this wolf-monster man! I fear I must—

Davos: —Wait, wait wait. Stop this story right there, Jared. Do you really think anyone believes that shit?

Rhaegar Frey: Yeah man, even for us Freys, that was a bit over the top.

Jared: It’s what happened!

Lord Manderly: YES! I believe it totally! 100% I believe this story from Jared. People named Jared are always trustworthy.

Leona Woodfield, Wynafryd’s Mom: Indeed. The Freys are kind and  trustworthy people. They would never hold my husband, Wylis, against his will. In fact, Wylis is on his way back to us at White Harbor now. He was just having a nice, long vacation at the Twins. Yes. A vacation.  Nobody should listen to the lies of this man who speaks against the Iron Throne, and the TRUE KING… Tommen!

Davos: Tommen is a usurper, born of incest between Jaime Lannister and Cersei! He is no son of Robert. The true heir to Robert is his brother, Stannis. 

Lord Manderly: I see, Onion Knight. And I suppose you have proof of this. Perhaps pictures? A video recording?

Davos: Well no, since neither of those things exist yet.

Leona: TREASON! TREASON! He spreads lies against the king with nothing to back it up! And not to mention that Stannis is an apostate! He and all of his men now worship that false red god instead of the Seven!

Davos: That’s not true. I won’t defend that Red Witch, but Stannis and many of his men are believers in the Seven, myself included.

Lord Manderly: What does Stannis offer me in return for an alliance?

Davos: Uhh… well, since he’s THE KING, he offers you the chance to do your duty and not be a little treasonous bitch.

Marlon "Wayans" Manderly: Stannis offers us only death and defeat!

Davos: No! Stannis offers you the chance for REVENGE! These Freys and their Lannister allies murdered your King, Robb Stark. They murdered the Lord of the North before him, Ned Stark. They murdered his lady wife. They murdered Wendel Manderly, and so many others. Look. There are Wendel’s bones over in that corner!

He points to a pile of bones.

Symond Frey: Hey! That was a gift! We brought his bones back and everything.

Davos: My point is… You need not be afraid of these Freys and Lannisters anymore. With Stannis… you shall have your vengeance!

Everyone in Court, Except the Freys: Hrmmm. This actually sounds like a pretty good offer.

Freys: BOOO!!! BOOOOO!!!! BOOOO!!!!

Little Wylla Frey, Lord Manderly’s Young Granddaughter: Grandpa! This Davos guy is right. We swore an oath to be loyal to the.

Maester Theomore: SHH! Hush now, little one. The Starks are all dead now.

Wylla: Right. Because THESE ASSHOLES killed them!

She points at the Freys. They get super nervous and sweat beads come from their head.

Rhaegar Frey: Uhh… uhh… Arya Stark is still alive! She’s on her way to marry Ramsay Bolton, son of Lord Bolton! The very man who KING TOMMEN has appointed as the new Warden of the North. You should be loyal to your king, to your new warden… and to the Starks who shall marry into the family of the new warden.

Wylla: Ramsay SNOW is a monster! He made his last wife eat her own fingers and murdered her.

Rhaegar: WHAAAAA? Nooo! I don’t know where you heard that story from! The real monster was Robb Stark! We had to kill him!  Tommen is the only hope for peace.

Lord Manderly finally stands up, although very, very, very, very, very slowly. He is fat.

Three minutes later…

Lord Manderly: —ENOUGH! *eats some eel pie before continuing* Guards, seize this man!

Davos: STOP! You cannot seize me! I am a royal envoy! I have diplomatic immunity!

Lord Manderly: An envoy? You snuck into my city like a smuggler under the cover of darkness. You are no envoy. You are a spy, a thief, a liar, and a peddler of treason! MARLON! Take this traitor to the Wolf’s Den and cut off his hands and head. I want them brought to me before I eat dinner. I shall not be able to eat another bite until I see his head upon a pike, with an onion stuffed between his teeth!

Marlon: At once, my lord.

Lord Manderly: *starts eating another eel pie*

Marlon: Wait… I thought you just said you wouldn’t eat another bite until—

Lord Manderly: —I KNOW WHAT I SAID! *munch*munch*

And thus Davos is taken away to be executed.

Davos: SHIT! Really? Two chapters in a row? 

ADwD 18: Tyrion V

The vessel Shy Maid travels through a thick fog along the river Rhoyne.

Tyrion (aka Hugor Hill): Wow. The fog sure is thick.

Ysilla: Yes, the narrator explained that already.

Tyrion: Oh. Where exactly are we? And I don’t mean “along the Rhoyne.” I mean more specifically.

Ysilla: Ah, well this place is called “the Sorrows.”

Tyrion: How cheery.

Ysilla: It’s said that the fog here has an evil, sorcerous origin.

Tyrion, Publicly: Hahaha, that’s the dumbesting thing I’ve ever heard! Magic fog!

Tyrion, in his Head: OH SHIT. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE. HAUNTED FOG!!!

Ysilla: Now let me tell you the legend of the Shrouded Lord.

Tyrion: Or let’s not. Didn’t we already talk about this? The basic point of the story is that "Stone Men live around here and want to kill us," right?

Ysilla: *shrugs* I guess.

They pass by some more ruins.

Yandry: These are the ruins of Chroyane, which was once the most beautiful city in the world! They say its buildings were made of gold and its streets made of water!

Tyrion: If it had “streets made of water” than it was technically a canal.

Yandry: Yes, that’s true. I suppose.

Tyrion: And if the buildings were made of gold… then wouldn’t the ruins be gold too? Those ruins just look like old stone.

Yandry: Well… erm…

Tyrion: If it was REALLY made of gold, people would be here taking it all, Stone Men be damned. That would be worth the risk for most people.

In the fog, they see an object emerging and coming closer to them.

Griff: Hrm. Better be careful. Could be those river pirates.

But as the object gets closer, it is clearly just another trade boat, going up the river rather than down it. 

People on Other Boat: Oh hey other boat people! We’re on a boat too! Pretty cool, huh?

Griff: What news is there from the south?

People on Other Boat: Oh, same ol’, same ol’. Erm… except for the rumors of a HUGE, RAGING WAR IN VOLANTIS!

Griff: DAMN IT! That is really not good for our plans.

But they continue on anyway.

Next they pass by a huge, ruined palace of Chroyane.

Ysilla: That’s the “Palace of Love.” Or at least it used to be. Now they call it the "Palace of Sorrow." You know, what with the whole “the Sorrows” theme we got going here.

Tyrion: WOW! Look at that thing! It’s huge! And those flying buttresses. Even the ruins look all eloquent and amazing. That thing must have been 10 times the size of the Red Keep of King’s Landing and 100 times more beautiful!

Griff: Well, size you can certainly measure, but beauty is more of a subjective thing.

Tyrion: Shut up, Griff.  Anyway, since it’s called the Palace of “Love,” now seems like as good as a time as any to start day dreaming about Tysha again. Ahhh…. Tysha. Where do whores go?

Yandry: Hugor! There is a Septa and a young boy like 12 feet away from you. Why do you keep saying “whore?”

Tyrion: Sorry.

The next landmark they cross is the “Bridge of Dream.”

Griff: Okay guys, we have to be especially careful here. The Stone Men like to hang out on this bridge. Sometimes they even throw themselves off of the bridge, so that they can land on any passing ships below. We need to be extra careful. And extra quiet! If a Stone Man touches you… you turn into a stone man.

Tyrion: WHAT DID YOU SAY?

Griff: *sigh* Ready some torches. Those dudes are scared as hell of fire. Young Griff, this is dangerous. Please go below deck with Septa Lemore.

Young Griff: No way! I ain’t scared of no stupid Stone Men! I’m brave! I’m staying out here.

Tyrion: Now, now, Young Griff. Obey your “father.” If one of us dies, nobody cares… but if you die… well… that would be bad because you’re “everything.”

Young Griff: Why does it sound like you’re coming on to me? And why do you keep putting air quotes around words?

Tyrion: *shrug*

Griff: SHHH!!!! Everyone! Bridge! I said “be quiet!”

They pass under the Bridge of Dreams without incident.

Tyrion: Oh, well that was totally unexpected. There was all that lead up to the Bridge of Dreams being this scary place where Stone Men would attack us. But nothing happened. Nothing at all.

Griff: Well, don’t make it sound like you WANTED us to be attacked.

Young Griff: Wait, wait, wait! Stop it! Let’s back up. I still want to know what is up with Hugor guy talking about me like that. I’m about to fight this dude, yo.

Tyrion: Oh, I just meant that this whole enterprise will be un-done if you die. Die again, I mean.

Young Griff: Die again? What do you mean? I’m not dead!

Tyrion: Really? Because I recall my Lord father wrapping your corpse up in a crimson cloak and laying your body at the side of the Iron Throne, as a gift to his new king… Robert Baratheon. Isn’t that right… AEGON TARGARYEN, SON OF RHAEGAR AND ELIA! The child who was supposedly killed by The Mountain.

Young Griff, AKA “Aegon Targaryen:” SHIT! How did you know?! And it wasn't me who died. It was some boy that got swapped out with me. HEY! Wait… your “Lord Father?!”  But… but… that means… you must be… TYRION LANNISTER!

Tyrion: THAT I AM!

Aegon: Wow! I can’t believe that this battle-scarred imp missing a nose that I have been traveling with is the same, world famous battle-scared imp who went missing from King’s Landing right before you arrived here in Essos. WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

Everyone Else: …

Griff: Well, well, well. You worked it all out, did you, Tyrion? Well good for you. You know that the boy is Aegon.

Tyrion: And that’s not all! I’ve also worked out who you are, Griff. Or should I say… JON CONNINGTON, Lord of Griffin’s Roost and former Hand of the King to Mad King Aerys II!

Jon Connington *slow clap* Great. So now we all know who we are. Fan-freaking-tastic. Why don’t you just pat yourself on the back and—

Ysilla: —Uh… hey guys. These ruins that we’re passing to the left look a WHOLE LOT like the ones we just passed to the right a few minutes ago.

Tyrion: Hrm, now that you mention it, they do look like—

Jon Connington: —OH SHIT! OH SHIT! THE BRIDGE OF DREAMS! SOMEHOW WE GOT TURNED AROUND BY THE CURRENTS AND ARE GOING BACK UNDER THE BRIDGE!!!

This time, Stone Men start dropping from the bridge. They’re basically really stupid zombies with no coordination, so most of them just fall into the water and drown.  However, like a good species that engages in hive activities, enough of them fall onto the boat so that they can attack.
Tyrion: AGGH!!! AGHHH!!! STONE MEN!

One of the Stone Men stumbles towards Young Griff / Aegon.

Tyrion runs over and knocks the boy out of the way, and pushes the Stone Man to the side of the ship with his torch.

Tyrion: That’s right! GET! GET, BOY! GET!

The Stone man rips the torch away and attacks Tyron. They both fall into the river below.

Tyrion, in his Head: Well shit. Is this how I’m going to die? Drowning in a river? Well, I hope the poor schmuck with the next chapter doesn’t also have their chapter end with a cliffhanger about them probably dying.

ADwD 17: Jon IV

Oh yeah, it’s everyone’s favorite type of chapter… a PROVISIONS CHECKING chapter!!!

Jon: Really? We waiting through that fairly long hiatus between the last Dany chapter and this chapter... just so I could check provisions?

Bowen Marsh: Yes.

Jon: Way to psych people up for the final season premier in a few days. Talk about supplies.

Bowen: Shut up, Jon.

Jon: So what exactly are we doing?

Bowen: We’re going through all the stock and inventory of Castle Black and seeing what type of food and supplies we have left for everyone.

Jon: That sounds… boring.

Bowen: Well, you did send away every single interesting character here at the Wall.

Jon comes out of the tunnels where the supplies are being kept and finds…

Stannis’s Men: Hey, Stannis wants to talk to you.

Jon: So what’s new? Stannis always freaking wants to talk to me.

And thus Jon goes.

Jon: Whattup?

Stannis: Oh hey, bud! Have you heard that Justin Massey and Richard Horpe have returned?

Jon: Who the hell are they?

Stannis: Oh, they’re the guys that everyone in the Night’s Watch mockingly calls the “wrong way rangers” since they went on a mission South of the Wall, rather than north. Richard is super ambitious and totally thinks that I’m going to give Winterfell to him as a gift.

Horpe: HEY!

Stannis: And look who else is here...

Melisandre: Me, obviously.

Jon: Obviously.

Mel: *winks at Jon*

Rattleshirt: And me too!

Jon: OH SHIT! Rattleshirt?! Rattleshirt is still around?

Rattleshirt: Yes, it is I! Rattleshirt! Famed poet and harp player! Now let me pull out my harp and sing everyone a song about me, Mance! Uhh… and by “Mance,” I mean “Rattleshirt.”

Everyone looks at Rattleshirt funny. Melisandre just shakes her head in contempt.

Jon: You can’t trust Rattleshirt. He’s an asshole.

Mel: Oh, you can trust him now. He is bound to me by blood.

Jon: Gross. Is that like when Angelina Jolie went around carrying blood around her neck?

Mel: I'm not sure to answer that "yes" or "no." Which one is more likely for you to sleep with me?

Stannis: Tell me, Jon Snow. Can Crowfood to bend the knee to me?

Jon: Crowfood? You mean like corn?

Stannis: No. Mors Umber. The guy who everyone calls “Crowfood.” You know. The guy who wears the polar bear pelt.

Jon: Ah right, House Umber. Is Mors actually offering to bend the knee?

Stannis: Mayhaps. He wants the skull of Mance Rayder in return though.

Rattleshirt: WHAT?! My skull?! No! But I don’t… uhh… never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.

Stannis: But Mors doesn’t even bring all of House Umber with him. Another part of that house is following Hother “Whoresbane” Umber. And Whoresbane has teamed up with the Boltons. I would like Mors Umber to join my side – but can he be trusted if the Umbers themselves can’t decide what side they want to be on?

Jon: I doubt that Whoresbane actually cares for his alliance with Bolton. He is only on Bolton’s side because the Greatjon is still being held captive.

Stannis: Oh wow. Greatjon is still alive in the books?

Jon: Yeah, it’s confusing. In the books he’s taken captive at the Red Wedding, while his son Smalljon is killed.  In the show, neither is at the Red Wedding and the Smalljon character hasn’t even been introduced yet. They don’t get around to explaining anything until Season 6, when Smalljon shows up to Ramsay alive with some brief explanation that his father died off-camera some time in the last three seasons. Only while Smalljon in the books was fiercely loyal to the Starks and died fighting for Robb, Smalljon in the books is a weasely little bitch who is loyal to the Boltons, meaning he sort of takes on Whoresbane’s role from the books.

Stannis: I’m sorry I asked... because I did not care that much.

Jon: Anyway dude, yeah. Take Mors Umber’s troops. You’re going to need every man you can get if you plan to march south and fight. By the way… are you actually planning to do that any time soon? Not that I’m tired of your annoying ass and want you to go. But I am and I do.

Stannis: As a matter of fact, yes. I plan to take my troops along with a bunch of Wildlings that I outfit as soldiers and march to the Dreadfort, where Bolton’s bastard son is held up. Roose himself will be occupied at Moat Cailin.

Jon: Well that plan is dumb and won’t work.

Stannis’s Annoying Yes Men: SHUT UP, BASTARD! YOU’RE A COWARD!

Stannis: SHH! Quiet, you brown-nosers. Let me hear the boy out.

Jon: So first, if you don’t make the deal with Mors umber, he’ll probably tear your army apart before you even get to the Dreadfort. And you know what Mors really hates? Wildlings. So it’s a bad idea to team up with Wildlings. I say leave them here at Castle Black with me. You’re up here offering your Southern lords the lands that these Northern lords have controlled forever, and teaming up with the Wildlings that the Northern lords had fought forever and you’ll win zero allies. Next, the Dreadfort is super well-defended. A tiny, skeleton crew there could probably hold out for years against a much larger army. After that, you have the Moat Cailin situation. By the time you get down there, Calin will have probably already fallen. Once that happens and Roose and Ramsay join their forces… that will probably be five times larger than your army.

Stannis’s Annoying Yes Men: NO WAY! YOU SUCK!

Stannis: I said SHUT UP and let the boy talk to me. GET OUT! EVERYONE! GET OUT!

They hang their heads and leave. Everyone except for Melisandre.

Jon: Doesn’t she have to get out of here too?

Mel: No, that obviously doesn’t apply to me.

Stannis: Listen Jon. I know you refused me already about that whole “Winterfell” thing, but I think you should reconsider. I mean really… do you want freaking Richard Horpe to be the lord of Winterfell?

Jon: I am a bastard, the rightful heir to Winterfell is my sister, Sansa. Plus I know you’ll never give it to Horpe anyway.

Stannis: True. I’m actually thinking of giving it to Arnof Karstark. I mean… Stark… Karstark… close enough, right? Aren’t they sort of related to your family?

Jon: Like a thousand years ago or something. Still, that’s better than freaking Greyjoy or a Bolton, I suppose.

Stannis: More lords of the North need to join me if you don’t want me to use the Wildlings in my army. I’m starting to get paranoid. I haven’t heard back from Davos, who I sent to White Harbor. I imagine White Harbor must be a lost cause by now. 

Jon: Okay, counter-proposal. What if instead of using the Wildlings, you use the mountain clans?

Stannis: The who now?

Jon: The mountain clans. You’ll have to woo them though. You can’t just say “I’m your king” and order them. You have to “ask” them and go to their dinner parties and tell them that their ugly daughters are pretty. I know you think that’s all beneath you, but if you do that… they will have probably 3,000 men to lend you. They have always been loyal to the Starks.

Stannis: Hrmm. Maybe. I’ll think on it. Anyway, I plan to march soon. If I need to get in touch with you after I’ve left, I’ll just send a message to Melisandre and have it delivered to you.

Jon: What now? Melisandre is staying here? Why?

Mel: Oh, you know why, Jon Snow.

Mel pulls out an industrial size bottle of sex lube and blows kisses Jon’s way.

Jon: ANYWAY… like I was saying about the mountain clans… don’t march them to the Dreadfort either. Go to Deepwood Motte. It’s fiercely defended… to the South. That’s because it was designed to keep the southern invaders away. But they never expected an attack to come from up here in the north. You’ll catch them like sleeping ducks and establish a great victory. When the people of the north see you victoriously liberating Deepwoode Motte, the rest of the lords who haven’t already bent the knee to you will come running in droved.

Stannis: Hrmm. An interesting plan, Jon Snow. Attack the Ironborn instead? When Balon Greyjoy rose for the first time… I crushed his army at sea where they are supposedly the greatest fighters. Fighting them on land… that would be even easier! Once I destroy the Ironborn… the North will KNOW THEY HAVE THEIR KING!

Jon: Army at sea? Don’t you mean “Navy?”

Stannis: Whatever.