Fandom: Game of Thrones

Characters: Tyrion, Varys, Melissandre

Author: m_findlow

Rating: M

Length: 1,333 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 236 - Prediction

Summary: The Red Woman brings disturbing visions of events to White Harbour.

Tyrion poured himself another glass of Dornish red, toasting to himself and Varys for having survived the journey from Dragonstone to White Harbour.

'Much more pleasant than the last trip you and I shared together,' Tyrion said. 'The accommodations were somewhat lacking.'

'Though not the wine,' Varys replied, his tone dry as always.

Tyrion grinned. 'Indeed, and in a few more days it will be back on the road and off to Winterfell. Enjoy the wine while it lasts. I doubt very much the North will be as well provisioned.' He tipped the goblet back, knowing he wouldn't have to share. Varys took all the fun out of living with his abstinence.

There was a quiet knock at the door which surprised Tyrion. The hour was late, and few knew they were here. Despite the swathe of ships that had arrived in White Harbour, disgorging their strange mix of passengers - Bloodriders, Unsullied, and a smattering of dark-skinned faces from Essos, freed slaves. The town was so accustomed to the come and go of ships, it barely noticed the arrival of the future Queen and the King in the North. It was just how Tyrion wanted it. No sense in flaunting their shaky alliance with Cersei by making a grand entrance. He'd feel much safer once they were in the North. A visitor at this hour however was troubling.

Tyrion walked to the door and paused. 'Who is it?' he asked.

'The Lady Melissandre,' purred a deep feminine voice.

He cast a questioning glance at Varys before opening the door. 'My Lady, he greeted. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure? I'd thought we'd be unlikely to see you again so soon.'

She slowly stepped inside, seeing Varys and bowing her head reverently. Varys gave her a curt nod in return. Tyrion noted that her hood and cloak were black ermine and not the usual blood red she garbed herself in. As she pulled back the hood and rested it on her shoulders, everything beneath was just the same, including the deep red jewel she kept clutched around her neck.

'My Lords,' she began. 'I am glad to have found you here.'

'Yes, and how did you manage that?' Tyrion asked.

She gave him a look of serenity, as if the answer were obvious. 'The Lord of Light showed me the way.'

Tyrion rolled his eyes. 'Of course he did.'

Melissandre stood straighter. 'It was not all he showed me. His visions of late have been... unsettling. I knew I must needs speak with you.'

Tyrion settled back in his seat whilst Varys remained standing. 'Very well. Speak. What do these flames of yours predict for me? I do hope it's fifty virgins.' Even fifty whores would do for now, though he'd rather lost his taste for whores of late.

Melissandre strode slowly towards the small hearth, leaning over the consult the flames that danced in it, as if seeking confirmation before speaking. 'I have seen many things, but one vision repeats itself over and over. I saw two dragons. Born not from fire, but from ice.' She looked up from the flames and watched Tyrion with an intent gaze. 'I don't know what that means. I have followed many signs from our one true God-'

'Many incorrectly, some would say,' Tyrion quipped.

'But these I cannot interpret,' she finished, ignoring the insinuation.

Tyrion frowned. There were only two dragons left in the world now after the Night King had shot down Viserion, the third and last. He was now buried under the ice by all accounts. What concerned him more was what he'd seen weeks ago, and many nights since on their journey back from Dragonstone. Nights where two leaders of their respective peoples had spent long nights together in what Tyrion could only assume was not a long and detailed discourse on the politics of Westeros. For all his fine and noble qualities, Tyrion had seen the way Jon Snow looked at Danaerys. He was still a man and a young one at that. Danaerys herself was hardly older than him and not at all unattractive. An idiot could see that they were growing close, even if they hid much of it behind closed doors. That was a deadly powder keg of trouble, but Tyrion didn't know how yet to broach the subject, nor how to stop it before it ended in disaster. He'd been all for uniting them as allies, but this wasn't what he'd had in mind.

'So, you came here to tell us about some visions you can't interpret?' Tyrion asked.

'How terribly helpful,' Varys added.

'Why tell us? Why not go whisper in Ser Davos' ear?'

'I fear Ser Davos would not wish to see my face again. He does not hold much store in the Lord of Light.' Tyrion could tell from her guarded look that there was more to it than that. He pondered asking for more details before a second knock interrupted him.

'My Lord, my Lord,' came a young Astaporian man, banging on the door and bursting forth through it without preamble. One of his Queen's loyal servants, though she would burn him for calling them that. Though they all served the Queen, she objected to any of them being classed as serving. Agaris, he seemed to recall the man's name.

'A raven from Eastwatch, my Lord,' he said bowing and holding out the scroll.

'Tormund Giantsbane,' Tyrion muttered, noting that black seal of the Night's Watch. 'I didn't even know he could read, let alone write.' He amused himself with the joke until he read the contents of the brief letter, face falling as his stomach did somersaults.

'Two dragons born of ice, you say,' he said handing the note over to Varys, who read it before he passed it to the Red Woman, looking just as ashen as Tyrion felt. 'One of these dragons you seem to have predicted just attacked Eastwatch by Sea. A great blue flame that destroyed the Night's Watch outpost and broke down the Wall,' he said, paraphrasing Tormund's words. The Wildling leader's own words had been much more colourful.

The words felt wrong in his mouth. He couldn't imagine anything being able to bring down the Wall, having stood atop it himself - huge and impregnable - a mighty fortress of ice. But he'd also seen what dragon flame could do. What troubled him most was the final line. Tormund's letter ended with ominous words. "The dead are coming."

'I sincerely hope for your sakes, my Lady, that we only have one dragon on our hands and not two as you have seen in your visions. I should think that if the Night King has taken Viserion for his own, we're quite fucked enough as it is.'

'And who of us is going to bring the news to the Queen?' Varys asked, frowning with his hands tucked deep inside his sleeves. He stared at Tyrion in such a fashion that left him in no doubt that he would have that unenviable task.

Winter had come for them at last, and they were far from ready. Bad enough to have to tell Danaerys her dragon was a captive of the Night King. Worse still to think that it was now the reason the Wall had fallen, leaving the entire Seven Kingdoms vulnerable to attack by an unstoppable army. If Eastwatch had been destroyed and the Wall brought down, then the North would quickly be overrun. Dead men needed no rest or sustenance, nor sleep. They could reach Winterfell in no time, and a dragon much faster still. He prayed Tormund had sent word to Winterfell to warn them ahead of time. Right now, he had a King and Queen to bring the ill news to.

'Perhaps you should go look into those fires of yours again,' Tyrion suggested. 'I'd quite like some good news to take with me to make the bad news easier to swallow.'