The Fire of Dragons
Chapter One - Alone at Dragonstone
Daenerys
She couldn't sleep. She lay awake in her opulent chambers on Dragonstone, her heart racing and her stomach in her throat. When she closed her eyes, her mind filled with visions of ice, rotting corpses, and dark hair sinking into cold waters.
She hated being left behind. She had never been good at hiding, protected, while her men carried out her orders. But she knew it was an unnecessary risk for her to travel North now. While a specimen of the undead might prove useful, there was no way to know what the outcome would be. It would be foolish to risk her own life for a minor bit of leverage. She knew that.
She also knew that none of the men traveling North held very much strategic value. Pragmatically, they would not be a crushing loss. Jon Snow was right - it might be easier if she didn't have to deal with the King in the North.
The thought made her stomach turn. She couldn't explain why, but the thought of losing the brooding Northerner was something she could not bare. Despite her frustration with his unwillingness to fold to her wishes, she truly had grown used to him. He was good, in a way men rarely were. He had kind eyes, warm, like a hot drink at the end of a long day. And he was strong — honest — unwilling to betray his people even if it might be the clever thing to do.
If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that she had been unsettled ever since he had arrived at Dragonstone. He had not been what she had expected, and whenever he was in the room she felt an inexplicable pull towards him. She could not account for why a Northern traitor affected her so; she only knew she sought his approval more than might be strictly considered wise.
She sighed and rolled over. Her mind filled again with images of dark hair and brooding eyes, but now the images were soft and warm. She fell asleep dreaming of a dark stranger from the North.
After her fraught discussion with her hand, she stood looking North over the water. She felt guilty about the accusations she had thrown in Lord Tyrion's face. He was right, of course, she really should think about her successor, her position would never be solid if she had no heir. Whenever she thought about it, she felt a sinking sadness that she would never know the joy of motherhood. She loved her dragons, but her heart ached for Rheago and the other children she would never have.
She pictured children with curly dark hair and lilac eyes; teaching them the history of her family, taking them on her dragons. They would be great rulers, with the blood of old Valyria coursing through their veins.
"Your Grace" Missandei's voice broke her reverie, "We've had word from Casterly Rock".
Daenerys turned towards her and gave a forced smile, "excellent, what news?"
"They will be ready to depart within a week, and will be able to reach King's Landing in time for the Parlay with the Lannisters."
"That is good news." She responded, "and Grey Worm? He is well?"
"Yes, your Grace." replied Missandei, looking down. "He will lead the troops on their return march."
"You're looking forward to seeing him again," it was not a question.
"Yes, your Grace."
Daenerys smiled "Yes, I can imagine you would be. Hopefully you can find some time together before we face the night King. Perhaps I will insist he travel with us, to help with plans."
"If you think it would be wise."
They were silent for a moment, looking out over the water. Daenerys thought about the battles they would have to fight. She realized she would need to make plans, that she could not afford many more mistakes.
"What do you think of this King in the North? Does he seem a worthy ally to you?"
"I do not know that I am the best person to ask such things. I know little of strategy and war," replied Missandei.
"The man then, does he seem a good man?"
Her adviser looked at her knowingly. "He does, your Grace, and a very handsome one as well."
Daenerys did not respond to this. While she would admit to herself that the King in the North was not unattractive, she had no intention to gossip about his looks.
"He seems to care about his people, and appears to be steadfast and honest. These are good traits, as I see them. He has honor," said Dany, "but I worry that he will be too loyal to his word, and will not surrender the North when the time comes. How can I trust someone in open rebellion?"
"He has not rebelled against you, your grace. He has declared independence from the Mad Queen who sits on the Iron Throne. The same Queen you hope to overthrow. You share an enemy, and that is as strong a basis as many military alliances are formed upon. In this case, you seem to share more than just a mutual hatred for the Lannisters."
"You make a good point, perhaps it would be wise to ally with him until Cersei can be dealt with, and then face the issue of the North once I hold the Iron Throne."
"So you believe him then, about the threat north of the Wall?"
"I am not sure. I have seen some things that make me think he may be telling the truth, and I am hardly one to hold firm to the idea of 'impossible,' but the thought of an army of the dead still feels like a story told to children. Perhaps this mission Jon Snow and Ser Jorah have undertaken will reveal the truth of it."
"I hope so, your Grace."
A few days later, Daenerys and Tyrion were discussing contingency plans for the meeting with his sister when Lord Varys entered the chamber, carrying a raven scroll. His face was grim, his eyes downcast. There was an urgency to his pace that caused the discussion to halt mid-sentence.
"What is it?" demanded Daenerys, her heart rising into her throat.
"News from the wall, it just arrived," replied Varys, though his face gave away no clue as to what the note contained. She knew immediately that it could not be good news, they would not have risked a raven being intercepted if everything were going to plan.
Her mind raced. She tried to imagine what the worst news could be, so that she might brace herself for it. She did not want to appear unduly emotional. If Jorah had been killed it would certainly be a blow, though she had grown used to the idea that he might not live for them to see each other again. Her mind drifted then to Davos, who while a good man, held little strategic value. If it were — she needed to just open it. Guessing would not help.
She swallowed — stealing herself — and read it.
The men who travelled North of the wall have been set upon by the army of the dead. They are trapped. If they do not receive aid soon, they will surely parish. Please send help.
Davos Seaworth
Eastwatch
She let out a small gasp, and raised her hand to her mouth. She reread the note twice before passing it silently to her hand. Her mind raced. There was no way to send men North fast enough to be of help. It was too late. She never should have sent them alone, should have insisted that they bring Dothraki with them. Or at least horses. If they'd had horses, they could not have been caught by foot soldiers.
"What do you wish to do, your Grace?" asked her Hand.
"What is there to be done? They are so far away, and it must have taken days for the raven to reach us. They are likely already dead," the thought felt like a hot knife in the gut.
"I agree, there is likely nothing to be done. While it is unfortunate that we will not have anything to show my sister, it is not such a great loss. We still have the Dothraki, most of the unsullied, and your dragons. It will be worth our while to show her the true force you have, hopefully we can negotiate so that fewer lives may be lost. Though I doubt it"
Daenerys turned towards him, firing shining in her eyes. "Not a great loss? Not a great loss? You call the death of loyal advisers and friends, in a cold, barren, wasteland, not a great loss?"
She thought for a moment. She saw Rheagal and Veserion wheeling through the air and diving over the cliffs. She was struck with an idea.
"I must go, if I take Drogon I can be there by noon tomorrow. I will bring the others as well."
The others in the room stared at her in silence, wide-eyed.
"I would advise against that, you are far too valuable. We cannot risk —" Tyrion was silenced with a harsh glance from his Queen.
"I do not require your permission, Lord Tyrion," she said imperiously. Turning, she left the council chamber and headed swiftly tabards her dressing room to change for the cold ride North.
She could not be sure why she had chosen this rash path. She knew that there was little strategic method to flying north in haste at the moment. She would do better to focus on Queen Cersei. The Unsullied would return soon, and they could easily begin a siege on King's Landing within the month. She could not just leave them there, though. They were loyal and true and she could not lose him — them.