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He opened his eyes. Strange as it might sound, given what had happened just a moment ago - moments stretching into a long thread that turned out to be the last strand of his life's fuse before it was snuffed out forever. Or so he thought.
But now he could clearly see before him... white. And bright. He sprang to his feet on reflex, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and looked around in all directions faster than he could think about what he was doing. A fighter's survival instincts did all the work for him.
There was nothing around him. Literally. For a split second, he was even taken aback, which was unforgivable for a fighter whose very life depended on staying alert. He stood in the middle of a white expanse. Beneath his feet was some strange kind of ground, resembling compacted, pale sandstone. Above his head there was no sky, only a milky-white void, without sun or moon, or stars. It was neither hot nor cold. Everything around him was as bright as midday. He simply existed here.
Where am I?
The last thing he remembered was that thrice-hated fire engulfing him and his brother. He winced. He had hated fire in all its forms with all his heart ever since that dreadful moment in his childhood, and to this day he saw it only as an enemy. How ironic that it was fire that had destroyed his loathsome, damned brother.
Along with him.
"What on earth...?"
As he continued to look around, he spotted something in the distance that resembled a castle. Riverrun - he had only been there a few times, but the castle was so beautiful that it remained etched in the memories of its visitors like a magnificent painting by a talented artist. The castle was far away. He couldn't estimate the distance. Turning around again, he was so startled that he nearly fell over.
Right behind him, where there had been nothing a second ago, stood the leaning tower of the Red Keep. Or rather, its ruins. He blinked. Then he turned back. Riverrun had vanished. He turned around again - the tower had disappeared too.
Slowly, he began to understand.
He heard a rustling and chirping from below. He looked down at his feet and saw a small dragon, no bigger than a chicken, strolling leisurely past him. The dragon looked up at him and, or so it seemed, hissed reproachfully. He closed his eyes. If I open them now, it'll be gone, he thought. And so it was.
He paced back and forth for a while. His arms and legs obeyed him as if he were perfectly healthy. He touched his face, and the scar was still there. A light breeze from behind ruffled his hair.
He spun around, and this time Harrenhal stood before him. The dark, charred towers of the accursed castle were unmistakable. The white expanse ended a few meters away, beyond which lay a green hill covered in fresh grass, with the castle standing atop it. He decided to climb it.
A barely perceptible sea wind was blowing.
On one of the ruined stone walls, he suddenly spotted a figure. He looked closely. Another man was sitting there, gazing out at the sea. He recognized him. Striding quickly toward the ruins, he came to a stop opposite the man.
"What are you doing here?" he asked instead of offering a greeting.
"Enjoying the view, as you can see."
"Is this heaven? Or hell? Or what the damn else could this possibly be?"
The curse slipped out almost without thinking. Ever since he'd arrived in this strange place, he hadn't felt any anger, fear, or fury. His old habits, however, were still very much with him.
"Does it look like one or the other?" the man asked with a wry smile.
"No."
"That's right. Who in Westeros is pure of heart enough to go straight to heaven? Neither you nor I, nor anyone else, has entered it directly in a very long time. So here we are, living through fragments of our own lives, and perhaps someone else's as well. And we hope that one day we could move forward."
"I see."
They fell silent. He sat down beside him and looked in the same direction as his companion. The sea stretched out toward the horizon, which, as he had come to realize, did not truly exist here. He realized where he was. He was overcome by conflicting emotions, but the strongest - and the most welcome after so many years, was a sense of peace. He... liked this. They sat there for a while longer, until the man broke the silence.
"Thank you for looking after her. After them."
"?"
"You didn't abandon them, even though nobody asked you to," the man continued. "I don't know what people are saying about you now, but that is enough for me."
"But you know what my intentions were, don't you?"
"I do and I know it perfectly well. You didn't leave them to be torn apart by this cruel world. At any rate, you did everything you can to protect them. Thank you."
He was silent. The waters of the sea lay before him, perfectly still.
And he replied.
"As best I could."