Chapter Text
Dany stared down at the scroll on her desk. Her inked quill had paused just as she was about to sign the note meant for her sister Sansa. She had recounted the events at the Dragonpit with as much detail as she could remember. Knowing that her sister would not be pleased with her bending the knee to the Dragon King, Dany decided she would explain her reasons in more depth when she could speak with Sansa face to face.
She just needs to know it had to be done.
Dany took a deep breath and wrote:
I will be home very soon. With all my love, your sister, Dawn Snow.
She hesitated for a few moments and then, underneath her name, she added:
Wardeness of the North
Dany set her quill down and reread her letter. It wasn’t perfect, she knew Sansa would have a lot of questions for her but it would have to do for now.
Dany rolled the scroll up and tied it with a string. From a small box on her desk, she took out a stick of wax and heated it over the candle beside her till the end started to melt. She dripped the wax on to the scroll. Then from the same box, she took out her metal seal, pressing it gently on the red wax and lifted it up, the Stark sigil gleamed in the glow of the candlelight.
Satisfied, Dany stashed her seal away and gently placed the scroll down on her desk, next to the other scrolls she had for her other siblings.
Better ask Missandei if I can send a few ravens to Winterfell tomorrow morning.
She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It had been a trying week. They had just returned to Dragonstone the day before in order to make preparations for their journey North. She barely had enough time to sleep, there was too much that needed to be done and too many things that needed her attention.
Dany sighed. She was accustomed to sleepless nights, but the thoughts that filled her mind were more turbulent as of late, and she knew that a certain person was the cause of it.
The conversation at the Dragonpit stayed at the forefront of her mind, despite knowing that there were many other things that should take precedent. She still had so many questions, and she felt her face grow warm the more she thought about the Dragon King and the secrets that he held close to him.
A soft rap at her door interrupted her thoughts and Dany turned in her seat.
“Come in.” She called out, though she was reluctant to speak with anyone at this time, she knew that if it was Ser Davos, it must be of some importance.
She gave a small smile when she saw her advisor open the door.
“Apologies. He’s been asking for you for some time and I don’t think he's going to stop until you speak with him.” Ser Davos stated.
Before Dany could respond, Ser Davos stepped back from the door to let the person inside. When she saw who it was, Dany slowly stood up from her chair.
“Dany?”
It felt strange hearing him say her name that way. When they were growing up at Winterfell, he had always called her “Snow" or else “Bastard" or some other cruel name on days when he was feeling particularly vile.
“Can I speak with you? Alone? I promise I won’t take long.”
Dany kept her eyes on him a moment longer before she shifted her gaze to Ser Davos and gave a small nod. There was a look of concern on the Onion Knight's face but he nodded back and shut the door.
“What do you want?” Dany asked, the question coming out harsher than she intended.
Theon shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he thought about what to say, When he finally spoke, he stuttered slightly, “W-what you said back at the Dragonpit… about fighting for the true and right thing… even when everyone else would have done the opposite… that was really brave of you.”
“I wasn’t trying to be brave.” Dany responded, “It was the truth. I went to King's Landing to show everyone that when you’re faced with death, there’s no lying or cheating your way out of it. If we are going to fight it together, we need to do it for the right reasons.”
Theon nodded slowly, “You always were the better one, the smarter one. Even when we were children. You always seemed to know just what to do or say.”
Dany shook her head with a sigh as she rested her hand on her desk, “I didn’t. I never have. I’ve made many mistakes, mistakes that cost lives…”
Even my own… Dany thought, but she kept that part to herself.
“But I did what I believed was right at the time but it doesn’t mean that I don’t have any regrets. I have plenty of them.” Dany finished as she walked across the room towards the fireplace.
“As do I. But the things that I’ve done… my regrets… are far worse.” Theon said in a low voice, his eyes cast downward.
Dany folded her arms and looked at him with her jaw tightened, “Aye. Far worse.”
There was a silence that fell upon them. The fire crackled in the background as Dany stared hard at the Greyjoy man standing a few feet away from her. She had to fight the urge to walk up to him and hit him across the jaw. She gripped her arms tighter.
“Why are you really here, Theon?” Dany asked pointedly, “Because I have nothing more to say to you.”
To her profound surprise, tears started to fall from Theon's eyes and his shoulders shook slightly as he silently sobbed.
Dany felt her heartache as she felt the emotion rise from her stomach to her chest. Unable to control herself any longer, Dany walked towards Theon and grabbed him by the collar.
“No! Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare!” Dany growled as she shook him, “Not after what you did to Robb! To Bran and Rickon! Rickon would still be alive if it weren’t for you! I watched Ramsay put a bolt through his heart! He died in that field because of you!”
Without realizing it, her face was wet with her own tears as she shouted at him.
“You killed Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin! You took Winterfell and gave it to the Boltons! And Sansa!... Sansa…” Dany couldn’t finish her sentence and she struck Theon hard with her right palm.
Theon staggered backwards, hitting the wall as he slumped down to the floor.
Dany stood over him, her hand stinging from the hard slap she had given.
“You were our brother, Theon!” Dany cried out with rage, “Our father treated you like his own son. Our family protected you and trusted you and you betrayed us!”
“I did… I did..” Theon mumbled through his sobs.
Dany’s breaths came in deep quick heaves as she closed her eyes to calm herself.
When she opened them, all she saw was a remorseful shell of a man sitting on the floor of her room.
Feeling drained, her emotions spent, she walked towards the wall, leaning against it as she too slid down beside him.
Staring blankly straight ahead, she listened to the sound of their breathing. Hers, slow and deep. His, quiet and damp with his tears.
It felt as if the wounds of grief had reopened in her heart as she finally said her piece. It seemed almost cathartic in a way. At the same time, it also felt oddly surreal being in the same room as the man responsible for most of the horrors that came to her family.
The last time she had seen Theon was just before she left Winterfell for the Wall. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to her then as he busied himself saddling her Father’s horse. The last glimpse she had of him was the back of his head as she trotted her own horse out of the stables.
Her feelings over what she would do if she saw Theon again had changed and shifted over the past few years. When she had heard about what had happened to Robb and to her younger brothers, she had vowed to herself that if Theon would ever cross her path, she would run him through with a sword.
But all that changed when Sansa arrived at Castle Black. The Theon that Sansa described to her was a far cry from the rogue traitor who had taken their home by force and gave it over to the Boltons. Ramsay Bolton had tortured and mutilated him in the worst ways. Yet, Theon still saved Sansa’s life and put his own life on the line for her.
Dany didn’t know what to think anymore as she sat there next to Theon,
By some cruel cynical twist of fate, here they were. Miles from their home. A lifetime away from the children they once had been. Yet… they were children together once.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Dany asked in a low voice, “Do you remember when Father took us hunting for that wild boar in the Wolfswood?”
Theon took two deep breaths before he gave a shaky response, “Took us days to hunt him down.”
“Remember how we made bets on who would get him first? I was so sure it would be me.”
“Aye. Robb got him good and he never let us forget it. Not for years.” Theon added, a misty look in his eyes.
Dany shook her head, “That’s because you let him. Father might not have seen it, but I did. You saw that boar before any of us. But you let Robb take the shot.”
Theon shrugged, “He was always better with the bow.”
Dany scoffed, “You and I both know that’s horseshit.”
Theon couldn’t help but chuckle weakly and Dany joined him. Then, her expression turned somber as she glanced at Theon. This time, without any anger. Seeing him as if for the first time in a long time - as her father’s ward who had grown up alongside her and her siblings.
“He trusted you more than anyone, even more than me. I was always so jealous of that. When I heard that Robb was named King in the North, I was willing to break my vows and ride south to join him.”
Theon slowly nodded, “I remember that night. I knelt before him and pledged him my sword… and my loyalty… ‘now and always, from this day until my last day’, that’s what I said.”
Theon turned to look back at Dany, “I should have died with him at the Twins. I should have been there.”
“Why weren’t you?” Dany asked, though there was more grief in her voice than anger.
Theon’s lower lip trembled as he bowed his head, “Back then… and even now… it always seemed like I had to make an impossible choice between being a Greyjoy or a Stark. That was my iron price… and I paid it with the blood of the ones I loved the most…”
Dany reached out and grabbed his hand. Theon seemed to jolt at her touch as he stared hard at her hand holding his, trembling in shock and shame.
“When Sansa told me what you’ve been through, a part of me thought you deserved far worse than what Ramsay Bolton did to you.” Dany started, she felt Theon start to pull back from her touch but she held on tighter, “But when you saved her life, when you fought for her, there was another part of me that believed that somewhere inside that broken man was the brother that I knew. The Greyjoy boy who taunted me and called me the most horrible names but who would also steal a meat pie for me or teach me how to properly skin a rabbit just to show off.”
Theon’s moss green eyes glistened as he dared to meet her own dark grey ones.
“You’re just like me, Theon. We might not have the Stark name, but we are family. You are a Greyjoy and a Stark. You’ve always been, and you always will be. From this day until your last.” Dany said firmly.
“Dany, I—” Theon started to say but stopped mid-sentence as Dany reached over and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close.
He froze at first but after a moment, he returned her embrace, his wet cheek against her dark hair.
“I don’t understand…” He said softly, “After everything I’ve done…”
Dany pulled back and held him by the shoulders so she could look at him.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you for all of it, not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t think it’s my place to do so. But I know how hard it is to seek forgiveness from those we’ve hurt the most, so what I can forgive you for… I do.”
She continued, “Robb, Father… Bran, Arya, Sansa and Rickon. They’re all a part of you just like they’re a part of me. That’s something that even Ramsay Bolton can’t take away.”
Fresh tears came down Theon’s face as he listened to her.
Dany stood up and she reached a hand down to Theon. He looked up at her and hesitated but then took her hand as he rose to his feet.
“You should send a raven to Sansa, she’ll want to hear that you’ll be coming with us to Winterfell.”
Theon slowly shook his head and Dany gave him a curious look.
“I can’t go back there… not yet…” Theon replied, his wet eyes turned away from her.
“What do you mean? I promise you if anyone has anything to say against you coming back—”
“It’s not that.” Theon interjected.
Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Dany, “You’re right. I am a Stark… and a Greyjoy. My sister, Yara, she tried to rescue me when I was held prisoner at the Dreadfort. Now, she’s a prisoner of Euron’s. She’s with him because I was a coward. I’ve been a coward all my life, but I want to be different this time. This time, I want to do the true and right thing.”
Dany slowly nodded as she understood what he was saying.
To her surprise, it was Theon who came towards her, pulling her close to him.
“Thank you, Dany.” Theon whispered as he held her.
Dany felt her throat tighten as she hugged him back.
After a moment, they both drew apart, looking at each other. It was then that Dany wished that Robb was in the room with them. She could picture his dark blue eyes twinkling and she could almost hear his voice teasing both of them.
Judging by Theon’s gaze, she knew he was thinking the same thing.
“Go.” Dany finally said, squeezing Theon’s arm before gently pushing him away.
Theon stepped back and he bowed his head low to her. Then with a final look, he turned to leave.
Dany watched as he shut the door behind him.
She then moved towards and sank down into a chair by the fireplace, resting her back against it. Turning towards the warm glow of the fire, Dany couldn’t help but think of that day in the Wolfswood once more.
The trees were still green. Her father was smiling.
Back when things were simpler. Back when all she worried about was having to be reminded that she was nothing more than a bastard.
She closed her eyes, her whole body heavy with fatigue, her thoughts drifting to happier days with her brothers and her Father as she slowly succumbed to sleep.
Jon took a long sip from his cup. The Arbor wine warming his throat as he swallowed. He was standing next to the Painted Table, his eyes reviewing the battle plans laid out on it. On the map were various pieces and symbols representing his armies, the various factions and Houses of Westeros as well as small blue and white rocks that were used as indicators for the Night King and his army. These stones congregated around the area north of Eastwatch.
Earlier that day, Jon had met with his small council. There was an argument on how Jon should travel to Winterfell. Tyrion suggested flying to Winterfell on his dragon while Dawn Snow insisted that they sail to White Harbour together to show a united front.
In the end, Jon sided with Dany stating that he wanted to save the North not conquer it. His Hand didn’t seem too pleased with the decision but agreed to it begrudgingly.
Jon laid his cup aside and pressed both his hands on the table, surveying the map. His gaze lingering on King's Landing and the lion headpiece that stood above it.
For as long as Jon could remember, Viserys had told him that the only goal that ever mattered was taking back the Iron Throne. His brother was willing to do whatever it took, even going so far as to sell Jon to the fighting pits at the age of fifteen.
This is for the good of my kingdom, little Jon, that’s what Viserys had said back then.
Jon remembered the chains that bound him and the sting of the whip on his back.
Please, brother! Please! I want to go home! I want to go home!
Jon shut his eyes at the memory.
Viserys had told him that they would go home once he had found a way to buy an army that would take back the Seven Kingdoms for him. An army meant gold and Viserys had none. That is… until he found Magister Illyrio.
Jon sighed as he opened his eyes and looked outside at the darkness beyond his windows. It seemed like his years in exile in Essos was a fever dream. All his life battling to survive, all his life fighting for the chance for home.
No, that’s not true. Jon thought. There were moments when Westeros was the furthest thing from his mind. He thought again of his adventures with the Dothraki, when he was at Qarth, and when he conquered the cities around what was once Slaver’s Bay. When he was King of Meereen, his primary goal was to give freedom to a city that was once ruled over by slave masters and elite families who didn’t think twice about oppressing those they saw as unworthy and low.
But Meereen wasn’t home .
Westeros didn’t feel like home either. Since he landed with his dragons and his armies, he still never quite felt like he belonged. The Unsullied and Dothraki neither spoke nor understood the Common Tongue. The customs that Jon was used to were also completely different. Jon wondered if he was destined to forever feel like a foreigner in a foreign land no matter where he went.
The only thing that tied him to Westeros was the Iron Throne – his family’s last legacy.
But after I take the Iron Throne? What then…?
Tyrion’s concerns regarding succession arose in Jon’s mind. His Hand had made some good points. Recalling that conversation, Jon wondered if he should broach the topic with Tyrion again. Despite having said that he was not intending on revisiting the topic until he had defeated Cersei, Jon knew that it was still an important thing to discuss.
He traced his hand around King's Landing. The culmination of his goal was so close at hand, yet he had made the decision to go the other way instead. Jon turned his eyes to see a row of direwolf figureheads at the Northern part of the map table.
Dawn Snow…
Again. It was her. Everything, leading back to her.
Jon clenched his hands as he felt a familiar but irksome sensation stirring within him.
He wanted her. That much was certain. Why else would he take such pain and effort to avoid her at every turn?
He thought about the curse that the Lhazarene witch had put on him and an old pain in his heart thrummed.
His thoughts led him back to his wife… and his son who never lived.
Dead… and gone… like my brothers, my father, my mother…
Since the first day he had met Dawn Snow, she was something of an enigma to him. Humble yet outspoken, pragmatic yet compassionate… beautiful and deadly with a sword.
But he could not… would not allow her to suffer from the fate that he had brought upon himself.
Then, almost as if in a dream, Jon turned and there she was.
Jon caught sight of the Northern woman standing in the doorway. Her long dark hair spilling over her shoulders, clad in a simple long-sleeved olive-green tunic, long black boots and dark grey breeches.
For a moment, he wondered if he was daydreaming but then her voice made him realize that she was not an apparition or a trick of his mind.
“Apologies, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Dany said with a bow of her head.
It took him a while to respond, but he cleared his throat and answered, “You’re not. Was there something that you needed from me?”
“No.” Dany answered as she walked further inside, “I just… I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d come down here to look over the plans we discussed today.”
Jon gave a small smirk, “It seems you and I had the same idea.”
Then walking over to retrieve his cup from the table, he gestured to a pitcher next to other goblets, “Would you share a drink with me, Dawn Snow?”
Dany considered the offer and after a moment, she nodded her head.
Jon poured wine from the pitcher into his cup and into an empty one beside it. Then taking the two cups in his hands, he handed her one and kept the other in his right hand.
Dany gave a small nod of gratitude as she took a small sip from the cup. She pressed her lips together after she swallowed. She wasn’t used to good, rich wine. She grew up on the hard, bitter ale of the North and she even tried the fermented goat's milk that the Freefolk enjoyed. But the wine in her cup, it was like drinking gold.
Maybe that’s why they call it Arbor Gold.
She and the King both stood on opposite sides of the map table, drinking their wine quietly, their eyes looking anywhere but at each other.
Dany knew there was a conversation that they had left unfinished back at the Dragonpit. But she waited for him to break the silence as she took another sip of wine.
Jon swirled the liquid in his cup. He took a silent breath and then finally looked up at her.
“You must be relieved to finally be going back home after being away for so long. I’m sure your family would be more than happy to see you safe and well.” He said with a faint smile.
Dany placed her cup down on the table, “Aye. I am. Despite knowing what may be coming, I do look forward to seeing my siblings… especially Arya and Bran. I haven’t seen either of them in years. I thought they were both dead. There was a time when I thought all my family was dead.”
After realizing what she just said, she looked at Jon apologetically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to —”
“No, don’t apologize. I’m happy for you, really, I am. Families… good ones at least, are a rare treasure in this world.” Jon responded, his smile remaining as he took a drink.
Dany looked down at the table, her fingers gripping the side. They were right on the topic that they had left off at the Dragonpit.
Jon realized this as well and he didn’t dare look up at her until she called his name.
“Jon.”
The very sound of it on her lips seemed both too familiar and too foreign. His dark purple eyes raised to meet her soft gray ones.
The reflection of the fireplace shone in both of their gazes, reflective of the burning fire that was simmering between them.
Jon knew she felt it too. This unexplainable, invisible thread that only seemed to draw them even closer together with each passing day.
“At the Dragonpit… you shared with me something about your past.” Dany paused to take a deep breath, “It’s time I told you something about me as well.”
She slowly moved around the map table until she was a few steps from him. Her fingers hesitated for a moment, then she started to unravel the strings that tied her tunic together starting at the base of her throat.
Jon felt his face burn as he slowly shook his head and stepped back, “You really don’t need to…”
“Please.” Dany interrupted and then with a shaky smile said, “It’s not what you think.”
Jon watched her with an unusual mix of curiosity and awkwardness.
With the upper area of her chest exposed, Dany pulled her tunic to one side showing the deep, curved scar that was just above her left breast.
Jon swallowed hard. He had seen this scar before, back at Eastwatch.
“I wasn’t entirely honest with you before.” Dany said quietly before she covered it up again. “You had asked me about what I meant about a knife to the heart and I denied you a proper answer, only because the answer is a difficult one.”
Then she pulled up the bottom of her tunic from her breeches and slowly rolled it upwards, revealing her abdomen that was marred by at least four other deep scars.
Jon’s lips parted in shock and disbelief. Someone with that many wounds should not have been able to survive. It seemed that she could easily read the look in his eyes as she then explained,
“Not everyone wanted me to be the next Commander of the Night’s Watch. I’m a woman. It was unprecedented. I won by only one vote. It was given by our Maester… your great uncle… Aemon Targaryen.”
Jon’s eyes widened. He knew that name. Where had he heard it before? Was it in one of Viserys’ old stories about their family?
“Your uncle Aemon, was one of the wisest, bravest men I’ve had the pleasure to know. He told me about the life that he had given up in order to serve as a brother of the Night’s Watch. He never forgot about you. In fact, he kept up with news of what you did in Essos. It was his last wish to be with you, to let you know you weren’t alone, that you weren’t the last Targaryen in this world.”
“Does he still live?” Jon asked.
Dany sadly shook her head, “No. He’s gone. But know that he passed in peace and in the company of his brothers and sisters of the Night’s Watch.”
Jon slowly nodded, a slight pang in his heart, he never realized that all this time, he had at least one family member who was still alive in Westeros.
Was…
But before Jon could dwell on the matter, Dany spoke, “Maester Aemon was the reason why I became the first Lady Commander of the Night’s Watch. One of the last things he told me was to ‘kill the girl and let the woman be born’. My command of the Night’s Watch was short-lived and fraught with tension and suspicion. Most of the men didn’t want to take orders from a woman. The women thought that I was overly ambitious, seeking to rise above my station. I executed those who disobeyed my orders and disrespected my position as Commander. I mentored a young girl and a young boy as my stewards so either of them could have a chance to be the next in line to lead.”
Dany placed both her hands on the map table, her throat suddenly dry as she reached this point in her story,
“As Lady Commander, it was my duty to ensure that I would be the shield that would guard the realms of men. All men. That included the freefolk who lived north of the Wall. I knew I couldn’t just leave them out there to become part of the Night King’s army, so I made the decision to bring them south of the Wall. It wasn’t a popular decision, many resented me deeply for it, particularly those who had families or friends murdered by the freefolk in the past. But I did what I thought was right. I had to save as many people as I could.”
Dany took another deep breath and she turned head to Jon, “I returned to Castle Black with less than a thousand wildlings. I let them pass through our gates, the first to ever do so. That night, the young boy, my steward Olly, he told me that someone had news about my uncle Benjen. I believed him, so I followed him to the courtyard where on a wooden board were written the words ‘Traitor’.”
Jon listened to her patiently, at this point in the story, Dany’s eyes glossed over and he somehow knew what she was going to say.
“I didn’t even feel the first knife when it went through me. It wasn’t until I was on my knees that I felt the blood pouring out of me. Then… then…”
“The knife to the heart.” Jon whispered.
It seemed as if Dany suddenly remembered that he was listening closely to her, then she said in a voice that sounded almost distant and dreamlike, “Olly… his knife was the last one…. I fell to the ground, I could feel my life seep out of me onto the dirt and mud. It was so cold… I looked up and saw the sky and then… there was nothing but darkness after.”
“You died.”
Dany tilted her head up and closed her eyes at the statement, “Yes.”
“And yet…”
“How am I standing before you right now?” Dany finished with a weak smile as she opened her eyes to look at him.
“Even I don’t really know the specific details. I was told that the red woman, the Lady Melisandre brought me back. She said it was the will of the Lord of Light that I live… and here I am.”
Jon’s brows furrowed, “The priestess. I know her. She came to Dragonstone talking about prophecies and the War for the Dawn. She was the one who told me to send for you.”
Dany sighed and repeated, “And here I am.”
Jon moved towards her, “I’ve heard about the Lord of Light before. Many priests and priestesses of Rh’llor supported my reign when I was in Meereen. They believe me to be this prophesized messiah who would bring the dawn back from the terrors of darkness.”
The night is dark and full of terrors…
“I don’t care too much in prophecies.” Dany said with a shake of her head, “I don’t know this red god nor do I want to. She said that I was brought back for a reason. But no one can tell me what that reason is.”
“You know what it is.” Jon said in a low voice as he drew even closer, “It’s the Night King. His army. You’re here to put an end to him. To fight.”
There was a glimmer of pain in Dany’s eyes as she looked up at him, “All I do is fight. All my life, it’s the only thing I’ve perfected in every way. The next thing I apparently do best is lose those battles.”
“You haven’t lost.” Jon replied. He clenched his fists at his side. She looked so distraught and forlorn that it took all his will to keep himself from reaching for her.
“It doesn’t feel that way.” Dany countered, the grief in her eyes turning to flame, “Ser Jorah and Viserion would still be alive if I hadn’t been so arrogant to think that I could have survived beyond the Wall against the Night King. I got murdered by own sworn brothers and sisters after I watched thousands of freefolk die and rise at Hardhome. I was at the Fist of the First Men when the Walkers slaughtered the Night’s Watch there. I saw a White Walker take a newborn baby boy away and I did nothing!”
Then she felt all the air knocked out of her as his arms wrapped around and grabbed hold of her. One hand behind her head and the other on her back. His silver hair was against her cheek. He smelled of the warm hearth and the salt of the sea.
“Enough.” He whispered in her ear, “You’ve done enough.”
As he held her, he felt her heart pounding against his own chest. The thuds quickening, matching the rapid pace of his own heart. He felt it again. The electricity felt from touching her, the blood rushing through him, the unquenchable urge that clawed at him from within.
Dany pulled back far enough to look up at him, meeting his dark purple eyes. He could feel her breath on his jaw. He nearly bent down to take her mouth in his when he stopped, suddenly hyper-aware of what he was doing.
Cursing at himself in Valyrian, Jon turned his head away from her.
Confusion fell on Dany’s face at his conflicted actions. She couldn’t understand his words but she knew their sentiment.
“There is something between us. I don’t know what it is but I know you feel it too. For some reason, it’s wrong, but I don’t understand why. Is it because of our alliance? Or because I’m not worthy of you?” Dany asked him in a breathless murmur.
At her last question, Jon grunted in heated frustration and he pushed Dany against the edge of the map table, trapping her with his arms on both sides of her.
“Not worthy? How could you even think that? Do you realize how difficult it is for me to stop myself from taking you right here on this damn table?” Jon hissed, a hungry look in his eyes that seemed both urgent and pleading.
Dany gazed back at him fearlessly, it wasn’t the first time she had been intimidated that way and she knew it won’t be the last.
“Then tell me why. Please. Because I can’t bear it.” Dany responded, her voice trembling but soft.
Jon breathed hard through his nostrils, then gently rested his forehead on hers.
“I can’t let you suffer. I won’t allow it.” Jon said with his eyes closed.
“I still don’t understand.”
Jon sighed and he stepped back from her. Dany held on to the map table for support, her legs feeling like they could crumple underneath her any moment.
He walked towards the open window and faced the darkness of the night.
After a long silence, Dany swallowed hard and asked, “You said you can’t father children. What did you mean by that?”
Jon leaned his arm on the stone pillar by the window. The crashing waves below him were not loud enough to muffle her question. It was time to tell her the truth.
“The witch who murdered my wife and son. She cursed me. Right after I had trusted her with their lives.”
“What kind of curse?”
Jon took a breath and looked back at her with a pained expression, “It’s not an easy story to tell, and it may take some time to tell it.”
Dany came towards him and without hesitation, she reached for his hand. He looked down at their hands entwined and then at her.
“There’s still enough wine to last us the night. I’m willing to hear it if you’ll allow me to.”
Jon considered her words for a moment before he nodded slowly.
Dany nodded back as she led him by the hand towards the fireplace, bringing him to where two chairs were situated facing each other.
As he took a seat on one of the chairs, Dany went to retrieve their wine glasses. After filling them with more wine, she returned to him and handed him his glass. She then sat down on the edge on the other chair, both her hands clasping the cup.
Jon took a long drink from his wineglass and after a few deep breaths, he started to tell her his story. The words pouring out like rushing water. He told her about being sold as a slave to the fighting pit of Yunkai by his own brother. About how his brother then traded him to the Dothraki in exchange for Khal Drogo’s horde. About how Khal Drogo had been cursed, how despite having three wives they were each and everyone as dry and barren as the Red Waste but a prophecy foretold how the Khal was to have a son with hair as white as goat’s milk and eyes the color of ripe grapes. It turns out that the prophecy was not meant for the Khal… but for Jon.
“After the Khal died, I took over his khalasar. Not everyone was pleased, the Dothraki hold to their own but they answer to strength above all, and since I defeated all the others who sought to gain the title of Khal – they had no choice but to follow me. When my wife was at the point of bearing our child, something went wrong. She was in too much pain, her handmaidens feared the child would kill her. There was a woman from a village that the Dothraki had pillaged, she was of the same culture as my wife and she convinced me to let her help my wife through the childbirth.”
Jon paused as he recalled those moments, then he continued, sadness and a hint of anger in his voice, “But that was my mistake. With her dark magic, she took my wife’s spirit and my son never lived. She said that he wasn’t even human, that he ripped open my wife from the inside out. I sacrificed my horse to save my wife and son, but to no avail. My wife was alive, but only in body.”
It was at this point that Jon suffered to look Dany in the eye, “When I brought the witch before me to answer for her crimes… that was when she cursed me. Not just that I would be unable to have any heirs but that if I were to put a child into a woman, it would be just as my son had become. A half-bred monster that would tear its mother apart. No woman would be able to bear me a living child.”
Jon leaned forward and took both of Dany’s hands into his. Their wineglasses forgotten on a side table next to their chairs.
A myriad of emotions danced in her eyes as she listened to his story. With everything that he had told her, it seemed she only had more questions in her mind than answers.
The first rays of the sun had just emerged from the horizon and as its light flooded into the Chamber of the Painted Table, Jon’s purple eyes lightened to a color of pale amethyst as he gazed intently at Dany. It would have been a breathtaking moment, were it not for the foreboding words that he was about to say.
“There was only one other person that I had been with after my wife and I only allowed myself that chance because she couldn’t have children. Her former master had taken that away from her. But with you…”
Dany felt her heartache as he spoke, she already knew what he was going to say.
“I can’t risk putting you into that situation. I know what it is we both want, I do not deny it. There’s a force that draws me to you. Since the first time I saw you… You are something else entirely, Dawn Snow.”
She let his words sink into her. If she had known any better, she might have considered his words a declaration of love. Yet, she felt neither relieved, flattered or joyful.
“There’s a reason why I call the dragons my children because they are the only children I’ll ever have. My son might have been half-beast and half-human, but my dragons are not. Their lives were bought with the lives of my wife and son.”
Only death can pay for life…
“When Viserion fell, the feeling was the same as seeing one’s own child slain on the battlefield. Just as losing Ser Jorah was like losing a father. I never knew mine, I just hear the things he’s done and the names he’s been called. But Ser Jorah was the closest thing to a father that I’ll ever know.”
Jon dropped her hands and then stood from his chair, walking towards the Painted Table and placing his hands on the edges with his back to her.
After a few moments, he whispered, “It is not you who isn’t worthy. It’s me. I’ve lost too much, Dany… I can’t lose you too.”
When he said her name, Dany felt as if a hand tightened its grip around her heart. It was the first time she had heard him say her name that way since Eastwatch. Dany felt a wave of strong emotion rising within her. It wasn’t sadness or disappointment, instead, a look of fierce determination shadowed her face as she stood and walked towards Jon.
She placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed against it so that he would turn towards her. Dany then used her other hand to hold his face, her fingers brushing against his silver beard.
Jon had no choice but to look into her grey eyes. He was surprised to see the fearlessness in them as she spoke.
“You are Aegon Stormborn. The Dragon King and the Breaker of Chains. If you can walk through fire, command an army of Dothraki and Unsullied, and fly on dragons, what power in this world could possibly stop you?”
But before Jon could speak, Dany shook her head as she continued, “Perhaps the witch’s curse is a real thing, perhaps it’s not. When I was a small child, there was an old woman called Old Nan who told stories about the White Walkers, dragons, magic and other fantastical things that I never thought would become real. ‘Fear' she said ‘was for the Winter when the snows fall and the White Walkers come again". Well, the Walkers have come again but fear isn’t what is going to defeat them.”
She then moved her hands to Jon’s chest, one hand over his heart, “Ser Davos once asked me if I believed you had a good heart. I do. You’re not just good… you’re strong, you’re just and you’re different than anyone else that’s come before.”
“Why are you saying all this?” Jon asked her, a concerned and puzzled look on his face.
Dany allowed herself a small sad smile, “Because it’s fear that’s keeping you from me. Fear of this curse and what it might do to us. Well, I’m telling you now that if Old Nan taught me anything, it’s that only magic can defeat magic and what you have… for you to do all the things that you do, if that isn’t magic then I don’t know what is.”
Then leaning in closer to him, she whispered gently, “I took you for a King… Your Grace.”
Her words from when they had first met surfaced in Jon’s mind and his lips parted slightly as he looked at her.
The morning sun was gleaming on to her, yet it only seemed to heighten her dark, Northern beauty. Her ebony hair free of braids and her steel-grey eyes captivated him. Even now as he looked at her, the sun on her pale skin made him think of the snow-covered forests and the frozen landscapes he had seen in his brief time in the North.
Jon thought of his brother Rhaegar and wondered if he had seen the same thing in Lyanna Stark when he had gazed upon her for the first time.
The Starks and their cold beauty… was that what you saw, brother? Is that why you stole Lyanna Stark away?
As he lifted a hand to her face, he noticed how warm she felt in his palm. He brushed his thumb on her cheek and she smiled softly at him in response.
Just as he was about to lean down towards her, the sound of someone clearing their throat abruptly stole both of their attention.
They both turned in surprise to find the King’s Hand standing at the doorway, his eyebrows raised in amusement. The former Queen in the North still had the strings of her tunic untied and the Dragon King was pressed so close to her that he seemed glued to her skin.
“My apologies. Didn’t think anyone would be up this early.” Tyrion commented in his usual dry tone though this time it was laced with mild curiosity.
Jon stepped back from Dany, his eyes looking anywhere else but at her.
After clenching and unclenching his hands, Jon walked briskly towards the door, brushing past his Hand as he exited from the room without saying a word.
Dany closed her eyes dejectedly as she leaned back on the table, resting both her hands on it.
“It appears I ruined a moment. Sorry.” Tyrion added as he walked in, “Not the first time though, certainly not the worst. When I was twelve, I walked into a room to find my brother and sis—”
“I think I should take my leave as well, Lord Tyrion.” Dany interrupted as she started to pull on the strings of her tunic, her fingers deftly working to tighten it back into place. She was in no mood to engage in another lengthy discussion, least of all with the King's Hand. The wine and the revelations of the night seemed to have finally sunk in, her head was heavy and her heart exhausted from the turbulence of emotions she had just been through
Tyrion, however, stood in her path, a knowing but sombre look on his face.
“It’s a dangerous thing.”
Dany grunted with slight impatience, “What is?”
Tyrion walked by her and moved towards the table where the pitcher of wine was, but a disappointed look crossed his face when he turned it over to find it empty.
“Pity.” He murmured under his breath before he looked back at Dany, “I'd caution you to think twice about what you're doing. You've already made one foolish mistake back at the Dragonpit, a mistake I've had to put my life on the line to correct. I strongly advise you not to go on to make another one.”
“You’re the King's Hand, my lord, not mine. I doubt I would be in need of your advice in situations that you know nothing of.” Dany responded curtly.
Tyrion tilted his head and pressed his lips together as he clicked his tongue condescendingly, “I do know. But I don't think you do.”
Dany remained silent, contemplating on simply leaving this needless conversation unfinished.
But then Tyrion continued as he moved closer to her, “I hate to be the harbinger of unfortunate and dire matters but I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that it was a Stark and a Targaryen that triggered the war that overthrew a dynasty of a great family. Do you really want to repeat that history of chaos and bloodshed?”
Dany felt her patience was all but run out as her blood boiled and her jaw tightened.
“I need no reminder of the war that claimed the lives of my aunt, uncle and grandfather. If I recall correctly, that war ended when a Lannister drove a sword through the Targaryen King's back. I can assure you that repeating that history is the last thing you or I want.” Dany said through gritted teeth.
Though her barbed retort did sting slightly, her answer seemed to satisfy Tyrion as he gave her his trademark crooked smile, “Good. So does that mean you'll keep your distance from him then?”
Dany scoffed as she turned her back on Tyrion and made her way to the door, “If that is truly what concerns you, my lord, I wouldn't waste any more time dwelling on it.”
“After all, as you yourself reminded me once,” Dany stated as she paused at the doorway and looked at Tyrion from over her shoulder, “I’m not a Stark.”
The cabin creaked and swayed as the ship crossed through the strong waves of the Narrow Sea. They had been sailing for almost three days now. The winds were good and strong, Jon had been told that they were not too far off from the Braavosi Coastlands.
Jon and his council were seated inside one of the larger cabins which they had turned into a small war room. On the wooden table was a map of Westeros with shells and stones used to designate army movements.
“My little birds tell me Euron Greyjoy has made good on his word to leave Westeros and that he and his ships have just arrived in Pentos. What his business may be in the Free Cities is still unknown.” Lord Varys reported, his arms hidden underneath the long sleeves of his robe.
“Good. He can stay there and rot.” Tyrion murmured as drunk deeply from his cup.
“Keep your little birds on him, Varys.” Jon stated as his eyes looked over the map in front of him, “I want to make sure we follow his every move. If Cersei Lannister has some heinous trick planned with that squid, I want to be the first to hear it.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Lord Varys replied with a bow of his bald head.
“That will be all for tonight. The voyage to White Harbour will be a long one, let’s take what respite we can get until then.” Jon stated as he leaned back in his chair.
Greyworm bowed low to him as he and Missandei took their leave.
“Your Grace.” Lord Varys said with reverence before he too turned to exit the room.
Ser Davos and Dawn Snow had pushed back their seats and were also preparing to leave.
Jon caught Dany’s grey eyes.
Since their last conversation at Dragonstone, they had both maintained a formal distance with each other. During council meetings, they spoke cordially and only on matters related to logistics and war strategies. But he could tell that just by the brief glance they shared, that the unresolved tension between them remained.
Jon knew that she felt it too as her eyes quickly shifted away from him.
Clearing her throat, she muttered, “Your Grace.”
She and her Onion Knight gave a respectful nod to Jon as they both left the cabin, the door shutting behind them.
Jon closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he opened them, he realized that his Hand was still in the room.
“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about, Lord Tyrion?” Jon asked without looking at him, “Or do you plan on staying up all night drinking again?”
Tyrion gave a dry smirk as he lifted his cup, “As you said, the journey will be a long one and I’ve already started my respite.”
Jon then turned to look at him, not amused, “If there is something you want to say, now would be the best time to talk about it.”
Tyrion tipped his cup and exhaled, licking his lips. Then with a gesture of his cup towards the door, he started, “Lord Varys and I have been talking…”
“And?” Jon asked with slight irritation. He hated being discussed behind his back.
“We wanted to know if you were open to hearing… a proposal.”
“A proposal? For what?”
Tyrion turned his dark green eyes to Jon and remarked, “Marriage.”
Jon felt his hands grip the sides of his chair involuntarily at the word. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together.
“Marriage?” Jon repeated, “With who?”
“Sansa Stark.”
Jon blinked a few times, at first not understanding what he was hearing.
Tyrion laid his cup on the table and he gave Jon a faint smile, “I know. Looking back, I wonder why I didn’t think of it before. It would be a strong alliance, stronger than what we have now. I admit I wasn’t too keen on the idea at first. After all, with the history of the Starks and Targaryens, this would most certainly be a tricky match. But the proposal does have its merits.”
Tyrion continued, “Sansa Stark is the key to the North and she has the Vale and the Riverlands on her side as well, by virtue of her Tully relations. She and her sister have the loyalty of the Northern lords and ladies as well as the wildlings, who, for what they’re worth do have their uses too.”
Jon said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Tyrion tilted his head to the side as he continued, noticing his King’s lack of enthusiasm to the news, “I know you’d rather marry Dawn Snow but she did give up her crown when she bent the knee, thereby relinquishing her title as Queen of the North. On top of that, she’s a bastard. Better a true-born Stark and the lady of Winterfell as a match for the King. Believe me, Your Grace, you’re a much better match for Lady Sansa than I ever was. I’m sure we can work out the finer points of the arrangement when—”
The high pitched sound of a wooden chair scraping against the floor interrupted Tyrion and he looked up in puzzled surprise as Jon went past him heading towards the door.
“Your Grace?” Tyrion called out, but Jon didn’t stop as he opened the door.
“Your Grace!”
But Jon had already slammed the door behind him.
Tyrion gave a deep, heavy sigh. As he reached over for the pitcher of wine, a small smirk tugged on the side of his lips as he filled his cup to the brim.
He paces obsessively back and forth in his cabin. His fists clenching and unclenching, running his hand through his silver hair…
Her advisor is talking to her. But she can barely keep up with what he was saying. Her mind preoccupied with their last look. His eyes... his deep purple eyes…
He knows what he wants to do. But he can't. What if he gave her a child? What if the child would kill her?
She bids her advisor good night as he leaves her. She begins to unravel her braided hair. She wonders if she should go speak with him. No… She knew she should stay away… and yet…
What if she was right? Maybe the curse wasn’t real. What if it was fear that was holding him back?
She looks towards her door, debating if she should leave, perhaps knock on his door. Would he be angry with her if she did?
He thought about Tyrion’s proposal and his blood boiled. In frustration, he swipes the items off a small desk by his bed and throws an empty goblet at the wall. Not her sister… He couldn’t… He wouldn’t…
She removed her belt and her thick gambeson. Reaching down, she unties the laces of her boots.
He’s sitting at the edge of his bed, breathing hard. The desire engulfing him up from within. He looks up and stares at his door.
She blows out the candle atop her desk.
Three strong raps at her door drew Dany’s attention just as she was about to climb into her bed.
Brows furrowing, she wondered if perhaps Ser Davos had forgotten to tell her something else before he bade her good night.
“Come in.” Dany called out.
As the door creaked open, Dany’s eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise.
She watched as he walked in and closed the door behind him. His silver hair was dishevelled, his loose tunic untucked from his breeches and he was barefoot. It was clear that he had been preparing for bed as well but instead of turning in, he had come to her room instead.
Dany could feel her heart start to race, beating loudly in her chest as she turned to face him.
“Your Grace.” She said in a soft voice.
There was a deeply troubled look on his face and she asked in concern, “Did something happen?”
“We need to talk.” He answered her simply.
“Alright.” Dany rested her hand on the wooden post at the foot of her bed, her head slightly tilted, waiting in anticipation for what he had to say.
But Jon didn’t speak. Instead, he remained where he stood, his eyes locked on to hers.
After a long silence, Dany finally realized what he had come to her room for. The answer was staring at her right in the face, she was astonished she had not figured it out immediately the moment he walked in. The flame in his dark purple eyes told her much more than any words could.
A multitude of emotions came over her. First, confusion. Then, shock. Finally settling on understanding and, oddly enough, relief. Her cheeks blushing red.
Jon, upon seeing the change in her expression, placed a hand on the bolt of her door and slid it across to lock it. He then moved towards her with purpose, immediately closing the distance between them.
Dany gave him a weak smile as he came closer, “You didn’t come here to talk.”
“No,” He admitted, his voice husky and low, “I didn’t come here to talk.”
He hesitated for a brief moment as he stood in front of her, “Is that alright?”
He didn’t need to ask. She knew that he had her answer the minute he stepped into her cabin. There was no turning back now.
"Yes."
Just after the word left her lips, his mouth crashed into hers, hungry and urgent. Her hands at the back of his head, deepening the kiss as she pressed herself against him, while he moved his own hands down her back gripping her hips. The heat that arose between them intensified as he moved his hand underneath her shirt, slowing lifting it as she moaned softly in response. Her fingers moving down towards the laces of his breeches, tugging impatiently at them.
They didn’t want to stop, but there were too many layers between them. He broke apart from her briefly, just enough to lift her shirt over her head and he just as quickly removed his own. Both of their pants quickly followed, lying forgotten on the floor. When he pulled her naked body to him, their flushed skin seemed to sing as they came together. Her fingers tangled in his silver hair, his tongue seeking hers.
The desire that they had both hidden away for so long had finally come into full bloom. The driving force behind their passion magnified on a scale that was both unstoppable and immensely powerful. It was as if they had been engulfed in flames that not even the worst storms of winter could put out.
They were lying on her bed, her dark hair spilling over the white sheets. His mouth on the crook of her neck and his hand in between her thighs, pleasuring her with his touch. She was straining to keep herself from screaming in ecstasy as she dug her nails into his skin.
"Jon." She whimpered.
His lips were on hers once again as he nudged her legs apart and lifting her hips, he drove himself into her with a hard thrust. They both gasped as a wave of blinding euphoria erupted within them when their bodies connected. He pulled himself up, gaining better leverage as he went deeper into her. One of her arms was around his neck, the other gripping the side of the wooden headboard of her bed for support. He grunted as they moved in quick rhythm, her body arching up towards him each time he came into her. She could feel the pressure building within her loins, her breathing quick and heavy intermingled with her lustful moans and sighs. He only moved faster and harder in response.
Then, with a final groan, he felt his release spill into her. Dany whispered his name one more time as she tightened and reached her climax as well. She gasped as she held onto him with all her strength, seeing nothing but stars behind her eyes and feeling the fire within her surge and roar before it slowly simmered.
His head dropped into her chest. The both of them panting deeply, a light sheen of sweat on both their bodies. His breath was on her breast and she could feel him shower light kisses along the scars of her abdomen and finally the one over her heart.
She could feel him inside her, still pulsating and erect. The sweet scene of their coupling mixed with their sweat caused a stirring of desire to well up in her once more.
Dany pushed softly against his shoulder and Jon leaned back, his arm supporting his weight as he looked down at her with an almost apologetic gaze in his eyes, "Did you want me to leave?"
She couldn't help but smile as she pushed him down on to his back, straddling him, "No, my King."
She slowly rocked her hips, and guided his hand to her breast, which he squeezed into his palm. Jon groaned as she suddenly paused and leaned down to breathe into his ear, "I believe it's my turn now."
The sound of the waves and cry of gulls were the first things she heard as her eyes fluttered open. The sun was beaming down through the ship's mosaic windows, and she could feel the waves rock the ship back and forth.
Dany groaned and wondered why she was lying on the floor of her cabin. Furs and sheets were tangled around her bare legs.
It was then that she realized that there was someone else next to her. Long silver hair splayed out over the wooden boards and a muscular arm was wrapped around her waist.
Looking to her side, sleeping as soundly as a babe, was Aegon Targaryen.
Dany smiled softly as she brushed a finger down his face, tracing his silver beard and down to his chest. She noticed that his own body, though chiselled and taut, were also marred with a collection of his own scars.
Nothing like mine, though. She thought as she touched her own barely healed wounds on her chest, Did he think me hideous when he saw me this way?
Feeling him start to stir, Dany turned towards him, leaning her elbow on the floor and resting her head in her hand as she looked at him.
She watched as he crinkled his eyes before he slowly opened them.
When he saw her face, he gave her a lazy smile, "Dawn Snow."
"Good morning, Your Grace." She greeted with a faux bow of her head, her dark locks half-covering her face.
He chuckled in a gruff voice as he pulled her closer towards him.
She cupped his face as she leaned to kiss him. He opened his mouth and she sighed as he sucked softly on her tongue. His hand reaching for her breast.
She pulled back slightly, sucking air through her teeth, then commented playfully, "Are you so eager for more, Your Grace? Did last night not satisfy you?"
Grunting he laid her back on the floor as he moved on top of her, his smile widening "Satisfied? With you? Never."
Dany hummed as she gazed up at him, "This feels like a dream."
"If it is, I never want to wake." He replied as he brushed his nose against hers before kissing her with more gentleness.
They broke apart slowly and Dany blushed as she found him gazing so intently at her.
"You looked so troubled last night." Dany murmured as she caressed his cheek, "Are you sure there was nothing wrong?"
Jon grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes turned away from her.
"You're right, there was something that I wanted to ask of you." He said, his voice taking a more serious tone.
"What is it?" Dany asked.
He felt a lump in his throat as he looked into her steel-grey eyes. He took a deep breath and then, it dawned on him, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. He should have told her a long time ago, perhaps things would have been much different if he did. He could see it so clearly now.
He had made his choice.
"Marry me."
Dany was stunned into silence, unsure if she heard him right. It seemed for a moment that she had forgotten to breathe.
Jon kept his gaze on her as he repeated more firmly, "Marry me, Dany."
"Jon... " she whispered.
"I will have no one else." He stated, his dark purple gaze showed that he meant every word, "I know this might be a lot to ask but I can't go another day without you by my side. Marry me, Dawn Snow, and be my Queen."
She didn't know what to say and she wasn't sure she had an answer.
I'm just a bastard girl... Why would he want me?...
But Dany knew that she felt the same. There would be no one else for her but him. After all, who can ever come after the Dragon King? She needed him. Not for his dragons or his armies, not for his kingship or his Targaryen bloodline. She needed him. The man she had grown to love.
"Is this truly what you want?" She asked.
He nodded to her, her hand still in his.
"There is nothing I want more." He replied.
Dany let out a brief laugh as tears came to her eyes.
"Who am I to deny my King his greatest desire?"
"I do not ask as your King." Jon said seriously, "I ask you as a man asking the woman he loves to be by his side, now and always."
She felt a tear roll down her cheek, "You love me?"
"I do." He brushed her tear away with his thumb, "You still haven't answered me. If I have to keep asking, I may have to get down on my knees and beg."
She laughed again, sniffing as she held his face with both her hands.
"Yes."
"Yes?" He repeated, a relieved and elated smile on his lips.
She nodded as he bent down to kiss her once more. Her lips tainted with the salt of her tears but he could feel her smile as he kissed her more deeply.
I am his...and he is mine...
"I love you too." She murmured as he moved his mouth along her jaw to her neck.
He lifted his head as he laughed softly, "If you say those words again, we may never leave this room."
Dany gave an amused sigh, "I love you, Aegon Stormborn... and yes, I will marry you."
"Very well." Jon remarked as his head moved down her body, "Shall we begin then, my Queen?"
The ring of her laughter quickly turning into sultry moans.
Unbeknownst to the two lovers, someone had passed their door with a grim look on his face. He stopped at a cabin a few doors down from the King's chambers and knocked in small, unrelenting taps.
The door finally creaked open after a few moments.
"Yes?" Asked a surly voice, groggy with sleep.
"We have a problem."
A drunken grin, "So, it's happened. I'm not surprised."
"This might cause a snag in our plan."
"Not if we play our cards right."
An unconvinced grimace, "You are certain this is the path you want to take?"
"It's for the good of the realm. As you always say."
"So we do nothing?"
"For now. Let's see where the chips may fall. After all, we still have a dead army to fight. We can't show our hand too early else we be burned for treason."
A chuckle, "Fire and Blood then, my Lord?"
"Of course, Lord Varys. As the Starks were wont to say, 'Winter is coming' and the damn thing is already here."
"So the Dragon King and the Northern Queen have united. The Dragon and the Wolf on the same side at long last."
"Not for too long." Mumbled the Lannister, "After all, the lions are still at play and we always, always, pay our debts."