Chapter 166 — The March Begins
"I'll go to Dragonstone myself," said Jon without hesitation. "I'll convince the Mother of Dragons to let us mine dragonglass."
Now that they knew where the dragonglass lay, there was no time to waste.
Stannis Baratheon, who claimed the Iron Throne, could not leave the Wall. That task could only fall to Jon—the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
"Take Davos Seaworth with you," Stannis said.
As his Hand, Davos was the best choice to accompany Jon.
With the Night King drawing ever closer, Jon made his decision immediately—
They would depart at once.
Far to the south, in King's Landing—
When Cersei saw Euron return, she almost turned away in disgust.
He had set out with twelve thousand men.
He came back with barely a thousand.
Half his tongue gone—his speech slurred and barely intelligible.
First Meereen—where he lost half his fleet.
Now this—nearly wiped out by his own niece.
Cersei couldn't help but wonder if all his boasts about conquering seas and terrifying cities were nothing more than empty bragging.
Twice defeated.
His forces reduced to twenty thousand.
Even Euron, arrogant as ever, could no longer meet her gaze with the same confidence.
Before Daenerys had even attacked, she had already cost them twenty thousand men.
That only made one thing clearer in Cersei's mind—
Her hope now rested even more firmly on Qyburn's scorpions.
If they could bring down even one dragon…
Even losing another ten thousand men would be worth it.
At the docks of Dragonstone—
Daenerys and her council listened as Yara's lieutenant recounted the naval battle.
The tale of the tidecaller conch…
Of waves rising against the fleet…
Of the sea serpent overturning ships…
It stirred something in everyone present.
They almost wished they had witnessed it themselves.
Their joy at Yara's victory was matched only by their amazement—
At Daenerys's foresight.
No one had expected Euron to lie in wait hundreds of miles away in Shipbreaker Bay with over a hundred ships.
But somehow—
They had anticipated it.
Without that preparation, even with the conch, Yara might not have defeated her cunning uncle.
Most of the captured prisoners had already submitted.
Only a handful of Euron's most loyal followers still resisted.
Daenerys ordered the majority dispersed and integrated into the forces of Daario and Jorah, while the stubborn ones were thrown into Dragonstone's dungeons.
With the Dothraki now settled in Harrenhal, Tyrion and Daenerys turned their attention to the next target—
The Twins.
If they could seize it, they would choke the northern passage—
And isolate the North from the rest of Westeros.
Meanwhile, at The Eyrie—
Sansa and Arya had been waiting outside Yohn Royce's chambers for nearly a full day.
Still, he had not returned.
Their patience was running out.
Riverrun had been under siege for over two months. Supplies were running thin.
After learning that Highgarden had withdrawn—and that Daenerys was advancing on Westeros with dragons and a massive army—the sisters had begged Royce to send troops to relieve Riverrun.
He had refused.
"The time is not right."
But then came new reports—
At the Battle near the Gods Eye, Daenerys's forces had annihilated ten thousand cavalry and captured the Kingslayer.
That was the breaking point.
They could wait no longer.
They came again.
And waited.
At the foot of the Eyrie, Royce had already been informed—
The Stark sisters were still outside his door.
Still waiting.
Still refusing to leave.
And the longer they waited—
The more difficult his decision became.
The truth was, Yohn had deliberately left the Vale to avoid Sansa's request to relieve Riverrun.
After hearing the outcome of the battle near the Gods Eye, he had quietly reassessed the situation across Westeros.
Daenerys Targaryen now commanded one hundred thousand troops—and three dragons.
Her assault on King's Landing was only a matter of time.
When that happened, the siege of Riverrun would collapse on its own.
Why, then, should the Vale waste its strength in a needless campaign?
But Sansa and Arya Stark could not wait.
They feared Riverrun would run out of food—and be forced into a desperate breakout.
So Royce had stayed away for two days, hoping to delay matters.
Yet Daenerys's army made no major moves after the battle.
And the Stark sisters?
They refused to leave his door.
Now he was trapped—unable to return, yet unable to stay away forever.
On the second day, the sisters arrived again at dawn.
This time, Royce knew he could delay no longer.
By noon, he returned.
They pressed him relentlessly, taking turns describing Riverrun's dire situation.
At last—
He relented.
The Vale would march.
The troops stationed near Highgarden had not yet dispersed. They were quickly assembled.
At dawn the next day—
Twenty thousand soldiers of the Vale marched out through the Bloody Gate, heading for Riverrun.
But before they could even cross the Trident River, they were spotted.
Dothraki scouts from Harrenhal saw them—and sent word to Dragonstone.
Daenerys and Tyrion hadn't expected the Vale to intervene.
It forced them to reassess just how much influence Sansa and Arya held over the Vale.
But one thing was clear—
They could not ignore this.
Daenerys personally rode to Harrenhal on Drogon, ordering Khal Jhaqo to prepare his riders for immediate action.
At Riverrun—
Robb Stark stood atop the walls, his gaze fixed on the encircling Lannister and Frey forces.
His expression was tense.
A month ago, rations had been cut again.
Even so—
They had, at most, three days of food left.
He had already begun preparing for a breakout.
But the thought troubled him.
The enemy would be ready.
If they tried to break through, they might be annihilated—or worse, give the enemy an opening to storm the castle.
It was a last resort.
Nothing more.
After more than three months of siege, they had no contact with the outside world.
The Lannisters even shot down birds suspected of carrying messages.
A few days earlier, they noticed Kevan Lannister had withdrawn with several thousand troops.
They had hoped it meant upheaval in King's Landing.
But nothing followed.
That hope faded quickly.
Seeing her son's anxiety, Catelyn Stark said nothing more.
She had already chosen her target—
The Frey forces.
If a breakout came—
Even if they failed to escape—
She would see the Freys buried beneath Riverrun.
Just as that resolve hardened within her, a soldier rushed toward Robb.
She moved closer.
"Your Grace!" the soldier reported urgently. "The Frey forces to the east have begun moving. It looks like something's happening outside the perimeter!"
Robb's eyes lit up.
Finally—
Movement.
"Come. Let's see," he said immediately.
Riverrun, a rare triangular fortress, stood where the Red Fork and the Tumblestone met.
With water on three sides and a moat on the fourth, it was a natural stronghold.
Robb climbed higher along the walls and soon saw it—
The Frey army shifting formation.
Fully armed.
Facing outward.
Not inward.
He narrowed his eyes and looked toward the horizon—
In the direction of the Trident.
There—
Dust rose into the sky.
Something was coming.