STORMBORN

23 | THE SWITCH

_______12/12/16_______

WARHEAD DETONATION
COUNTDOWN
64 hrs 31 mins

He could tell they were on air as the breeze turned abnormally freezing—different from the earlier afternoon sun.

Winter solstice was in the horizons and the breath of chill tingled in his spine. It was a familiar sensation yet only moderate compared to the wall of ice up north.

His head was covered in burlap and all that his sight provided were tiny stars formed by the holes of the gunny sack. Wrists and ankles were tied on thick knots of rope and cuffs.

But that didn't matter because four of his senses were heightened as before. He was aware that there were three people with him on the flying vessel—which he assumed a quadcopter based on the sound of multiple rotors.

Out of the three men, one seemed to have a different weight by the steps he heard. It seemed lighter—as if of a child's but his voice was peculiarly unfit to his body.

It can't be nobody else but Tyrion Lannister—Commander of the Order of the Seven.

"You found me quicker than I thought possible, imp." Jon began to speak and he heard those tiny footsteps again walking closer to him.

Tyrion wrenched the bag from his prisoner's face and sat across him.

Jon squinted as it was blinding until finally his eyes adjusted to the light.

Tyrion's expression towards Jon was as calm as before they reached adulthood but time had aged and scarred his face diagonally. "She made it easier for us."

Jon felt a crack on his chest. At first he was uncertain if Dany had been behind all this but the dwarf has just confirmed her betrayal casually. "I quite of underestimated your agent. She's one hell of a woman."

He smiled, the kind of smile with no judgement that lies within—just manly regard. "You're just a man, Jon Snow. A man always forgets his senses when a fine woman like Daenerys Targaryen drops from the sky."

He managed to chuckle amidst the betrayal he felt.  "What are the chances that it had to be her?"

"Luck, destiny, fate, doom— however you prefer to define it, one thing is clear. She scored deep within you." Tyrion could peek through his jet black eyes the fiery shard piercing his being.

"You utterly believe that?" He chuckled again with an expression convincingly unperturbed. "Who knew you could be such a comic?"

"It's usually in my nature; but in this case—not quite. You see, I brought the dragon prince to the boy in the broom closet, in the first place." His bushy eyebrows raised awaiting Jon's reaction of shock. "We were watching you."

"We?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion, analyzing how this situation will culminate.

Tyrion leaned forward. His eyes darted through his short lashes. "My father—Tywin Lannister—the first commander of the Order, had always been in the lookout for noble Westerosi youths who have exceptional skills. Prospects for future recruits."

Jon leaned back in his seat comfortably as if his rough binds were fine silk. "Let me guess, I happen to be one of them."

"No, not just one of them." He shook his head chuckling and pointing his index finger at him. "You—you topped the profiling test."