Jaime: Atonement in the Snow
The snow on the west side of Winterfell was churned into muddy prints by horse hooves. When Jaime reined in his warhorse, the gasps of the Lannister remnants were particularly clear in the cold wind—a force of three thousand, half of them deserters wrapped in civilian cloaks, their spears mostly chipped, their armor still stained with frozen blood from the Riverlands. He raised a hand to press the leather scroll bag at his waist; the wildfire distribution map inside dug painfully into his ribs. Qyburn's scrawled note on the edge of the map, "Full city detonation requires a blood curse trigger," was like a thorn, piercing his heart.
"My lord, that's the west wall of Winterfell ahead," Gregor, the squire knight, urged his horse forward, his voice weary. "A few brothers tried to run, but I stopped them." Jaime looked in the direction he pointed. On Winterfell's walls flew the Direwolf banner of the North and Daenerys's black dragon banner. Behind the battlements, the faint glow of dragon glass barricades was dimly visible. He suddenly dismounted, unfastening a ceramic pot from beside his saddle—it was Tyrion's improved wildfire pot, its body wrapped in burlap to prevent the flame from leaking. "Gather all the pots and give them to the vanguard," his voice was low. "Tell the brothers this isn't for Cersei; it's to prevent more people from becoming fodder for the wights."
As they reached the west wall, a longbow suddenly appeared from behind the battlements. Jon Snow's face was particularly stern amidst the smoke. "Kingslayer, what are you doing here with these remnants?" Jon's voice was tinged with cold, and the tip of longclaw gleamed coldly in the sunlight. Jaime didn't raise his hand to block; instead, he unfastened his scroll bag and threw it onto the battlement: "I brought Cersei's wildfire distribution map. She wants the Others to devour half of Westeros, then burn King's Landing with wildfire to expand the chaos—Qyburn said this would attract more Others, allowing her to reap the benefits."
Silence fell on the wall for a moment, and Jon's longbow slowly lowered. "If you dare to lie," his gaze swept over Jaime's severed hand, "I will have you and your sister's wildfire turn to ash together." Jaime looked up at the Northern lord on the battlement and suddenly smiled, the metal joints of his severed hand making a faint "clack" in the cold wind: "I owe House Stark, I've owed them since the day I pushed Bran from the tower. I've come here today only to atone."
Illyrio: Tactical Review in the Bell Tower
Illyrio, fresh from the cellar entrance, his robes still damp with mud from the passage, was led by Grey Worm to the bell tower—Lyra was holding new Greensight records, on which was Bran's recently perceived "Cersei's blood curse activation mechanism." "Jaime Lannister brought three thousand men to the west wall," Grey Worm handed over a Lannister Family lion emblem. "Unsullied scouts say they brought many wildfire pots; they are friends, not foes."
Illyrio took the emblem, his fingertips tracing the lion pattern, and suddenly remembered Tyrion's previous mention of "improved wildfire"—it wouldn't explode on contact like the King's Landing stores, making it perfectly suitable for clearing wights. He quickly walked up to the bell tower. As he pushed open the wooden door, he saw Jon and Jaime confronting each other on the wall. Daenerys, riding Drogon, was approaching from the eastern sky, Drogon's right wing still wrapped in burlap, seeping dark red bloodstains.
"Illyrio, come look at this." Jon, seeing him approach, immediately handed over the wildfire distribution map. The map, drawn on parchment, marked the wildfire caches beneath King's Landing's seven city gates. The location of the Red Keep's dungeon was circled in red, with the annotation "Main pot, requires blood curse activation." Illyrio's gaze stopped at the small print next to the red circle: "Qyburn's handwriting, consistent with the secret letter intercepted at Dragonstone earlier." He looked up at Jaime, "Whose blood does your sister's blood curse require?"
"Her own," Jaime's voice was somewhat hoarse. "Qyburn said only Targaryen blood could trigger the full city detonation, but Cersei secretly used her own blood curse—she feared Daenerys returning alive and wanted a contingency." Illyrio suddenly walked to the map and circled three areas with charcoal: "We will act on three fronts. Jon, you lead the Northern Soldiers to defend the front, using dragon glass barricades to block the wights; Jaime, you lead the Lannister soldiers to clear the west side, using improved wildfire to burn wight gathering points, avoiding the granaries; Arya's and my assault team will continue through the cellar passage to flank, targeting the Night King."
"The Unsullied are willing to cover Lord Jon's rear," Grey Worm suddenly spoke, the spikes on his armor still bearing ice shards. "Our shields can withstand the wights' first wave of attack, buying time for the front line." Illyrio nodded, his gaze sweeping over the three: "Prepare before sunset; the Night King's ice core fragment is still recovering. We must act before he counterattacks."
Daenerys: Decision on Dragonback
Every time Drogon's right wing flapped, Daenerys could feel the dragon's body tremble—Viserion's ice claws had left wounds on its scales, still seeping blood with the temperature of dragonflame. She lay on Drogon's neck, watching Jaime's Lannister remnants gather beneath the west wall, and suddenly remembered Viserys's madness before his death, a complex feeling rising in her heart.
"Queen Daenerys!" Jaime, seeing Drogon's shadow, immediately looked up and shouted, holding up a bronze key. "This is the key to the Red Keep's dungeon, it opens the lock to the main wildfire pot! I know Qyburn's blood curse mechanism and can help you deactivate it!" Daenerys reined in Drogon, its claws landing on the open ground beside the wall, kicking up a spray of snow. She dismounted and walked in front of Jaime, her gaze falling on his severed hand: "Why do you help us? Cersei is your only kin."
Jaime's Adam's apple bobbed. He took out a faded hair tie from his embrace—it was one Cersei had worn when she was young, still entwined with a few strands of golden hair. "I once thought she was just ambitious," his voice was low, "until I saw her bury wildfire pots in civilian areas, saw her have Qyburn feed prisoners to the Others... She's no longer the Cersei I knew." He handed the key to Daenerys. "If I can stop her, I am willing to accept any judgment from House Stark, even death."
Daenerys took the key, her fingertips touching the coolness of the bronze, and suddenly remembered Illyrio's earlier words, "The alliance needs every bit of strength." She turned to look towards the bell tower, where Illyrio was gesturing at the map, Jon's Direwolf, Ghost, crouched at his feet, warily watching the Lannister soldiers. "Jaime," Daenerys's voice suddenly became firm, "your atonement begins with clearing the wights from the west side. If you dare to betray us, Drogon's dragonflame will leave nothing but ash of you."
Drogon seemed to understand her words, letting out a low dragon roar. The burlap on his right wing was blown open by the wind, revealing the healing wound—the scales there had a new bronze color, much like the hope against the cold god. Daenerys looked up at the sky. Rhaegal was circling above Winterfell, his orange-red dragonflame occasionally sweeping over distant wight hordes, igniting the first spark of counterattack for the imminent three-pronged operation.