Jon
It was mid morning and the bells of White Harbor were ringing out their welcome, as they approached the docks. Jon was late, and still fastening his cloak against the fresh falling snow. Ser Davos needn't have chided him the whole way up from the cabins, he already knew the ship was talking. Unsullied lined the decks and at the hull stood Tyrion, Varys, and Ser Jorah. Each one noted his approach in their own way and Jon could feel at once that they knew what went on between he and Daenerys, and all the nights they spent sailing to the north.
"Good of you to come." Tyrion remarked, staring at the city before them.
"I made it in time." Jon answered.
"Our Queen has been much occupied, " Tyrion's eyes darted to Jon's face. "as of late."
Jon smiled, he couldn't keep from it. "Has she?"
Tyrion took a long deep breath. "The Manderly's are in the household seat here in White Habor is that right?"
"Lord Wyman, yes"
"He had a son slain at the Red Wedding, did he not?" Varys asked Jon.
"Aye."
"Do you believe he will be receptive to our queen?"
Jon looked over the town, with it's gathering crowds. White Harbor was a southern port with a southern family. The richest city in the Northern Kingdom. They had trade- fish and grain, and they had foreign goods, by the sea. They even took the new gods, like the rest of the Kingdom, despite the bulk of their fellow banner-men staying true to the old. They were not even counted as Northerners in some places, and lately, they'd laid low in the wars top win back Winterfell. There was no saying which way Lord Manderly would lean.
"He will back Jon." Ser Davos broke in. "He is loyal to the Stark's."
"You know this?" Jon regarded Davos.
"I've put time in with the Manderlys" Davos said mysteriously, "They are good, and true. Wyman is a man of honor. And he has two eligible daughters."
Jon felt more than one pair of eyes on him. "Good for him."
Davos sighed, and fell silent.
Tyrion stepped in closer, "You are in the game now, Jon Snow. Do not play it with your heart. I played it with mine, and now..."
Jon met Tyrion's eyes. "I know what I' m risking."
Words of pain reflected in the Hand's face. "And her? What is she risking?"
Jon felt rather stunted, by that, then said, "Could you stop her, if she decided it was worth it?"
Tyrion shook his head and laughed just a little, "No. No I could not."
Just as the docking had started the queen walked on deck, flanked by Missandei and Greyworm. Each of them now wore great furs and long cloaks, despite it only being White Harbor, and Jon nearly smirked at the sight, except for how well Dany looked in them. He kept his head mostly forward, watching the observers collect. They were a rich but curious bunch, and he wasn't sure what was most interesting to them all, the Lannister turn-cloak, the bastard King of the North, or the Targaryan dragon-queen. Perhaps all, Jon thought grimly.
Leaving the ship, Jon and Ser Davos lead the party, and were stopped almost immediately at the end of the plank. A man of astounding drunkenness, and only one leg, wobbled forward and roared. "The King in the North!"
Jon smiled, feeling it was too long since he'd heard those words. "You are Ser Bartimus, hero of the Battle of the Trident."
"The same," he bellowed. "An keeper o the Wolf's Den, Your Grace. Welcome to White Harbor."
People were stopped in the streets to watch and Jon could see them alight with whispering and pointing. "I've grown up hearing stories of your battles."
"Did you!" Bertimus nearly fell to the ground, "Did you... But there comes with you, a Lannister and a Dragon to the North. And I say now, that Ned Stark would not abide-" Bertimus stopped. "An angel comes near."
Jon turned round and saw it was Daenerys that stopped the drunk, her presence sending ripples of reaction through the crowd. He wondered of course, if they saw what he saw, a radiant thing, with a gravity beyond her years, and a sadness he wished he could cure. How he wished everyone would see her as she truly was, whom she truly was. But it would take time, he knew, and greater diplomacy than he was capable of at the moment. She greeted the maimed man warmly, and mentioned that she knew of the Battle of the Trident. Jon watched her all the while. Aye, she knew of that battle. The one which robbed her of her brother.
Lord Manderly approached then with his court in tow, and hollered, "King Jon! Long may he reign in the North." Jon wanted to cringe, but in the next breath the nobleman said, "And this is the High Queen visiting our humble White Harbor." He suddenly knelt low. "Your Grace, you honor us."
Jon glanced back at Tyrion, just now descending the ramp, and the dwarfs eyebrows raised. The rest of the Manderly court almost seemed astounded, and the daughters sir Davos spoke of smiled charmingly at Jon, but grow a deal colder at the sight of the queen.
"My Lord, please rise," Dany said at once, "And thank you for your welcome."
"If you do not look exactly like your mother..." Lord Manderly said softly.
"You knew my mother, my lord?" she answered nearly as softly.
Manderly flushed slightly, "Oh no. I only admired her, from the side lines." Dany nodded slowly. "Please feel welcome here, and tonight dine in the halls of my family. Many guests have come to see you all, and many couriers too. Break your journey with us this night, and we will see you safely on the road North in the morning."
Jon looked to her and she looked to him. Then behind them, Tyrion spoke, "Yes, we accept this. And thank you. I have always hated travel by sea, almost as much I hate travel by horse."
"Well..well..." Lord Manderly stumbled for the right words.
"Lord Tyrion Lannister," Jon introduced him with the title he wasn't entirely sure was Tyrions. "The Hand of the Queen. And this is her trust adviser Missandei of Naath. Beyond is Ser Davos, my adviser and Ser Jorah Mormont," Jon cleared his throat, "head of the Queens guard."
"I bid welcome to you all." Lord Wyman said, "And these are my daughters Wylla and Wynafryd, and the banner-men of my house. The Lords Hornwood and Woolfield, and their sons-" he launched into a long line of names each of which began with W, which Jon had no hope of remembering. The Manderlys had remained the hardest of Northern houses to memorize for him, even as a boy. The Lord finished with, "Each of us are grateful for your protection."
Jorah spoke at last, "Greyworm here commands the Unsullied, and the Dothraki-"
"Are outside of the city, yes," Wyman barged in, and motioned them to follow, "They've been showing up for days, and their camps stretch on for miles. Then beyond that are the lines and lines of the soldiers you called Unsullied, and they have kept the Dothraki very peaceful, so you see. There is no need for alarm."
"I should like to ride out to see the Unsullied," Dany pulled her cloak up to step along the stones. "I shall have my horse unloaded quickly, and then-"
"Your Grace, there are many who seek a word with you, as with the King in the North." Lord Wyman said pointedly. Or so it sounded that way to Jon.
"Afterwards." she answered, "First I would-"
"In time, my queen." Ser Jorah said quickly, "All in time." She quieted and Jon walked on in annoyance. She should not let him do that.
Manderly spoke of all the things that went on in Jon's absence, the quarrels and deaths and the marriages. There were reports flooding into the city, Lord Wyman told them, of more Wildling refugees, rumors of his sister Arya being a superb fighter, his brother having strange, mystical abilities. Jon followed and remembered how he used to wonder if his mother had been from White Harbor. The city was just as large and crowded as he'd always imagined it was, but now that he'd been to the Wilds of the North, and Kings Landing and Dragonstone, the world he used to dream about as a boy was diminished.
New Castle, the seat of the Manderlys, was certainly prominent, even among the rich houses of the master merchants of port. The streets were wide avenues of stone, and over each great home, beside the banner of the trident wielding mermaid King, was the symbol of their trade. Fish, Grain, rumors ... This was the wealth of North. Jon glanced around at the men, and some strong women, wondering if they'd be equally as valuable in the battle field. The stronghold was reached at last and they were ushered inside, where very keen, well dressed servants offered bread and salt, immediately.
"You are under my protection." Lord Wyman partook at once, as Jon eyed the room before him.
The main hall of New Castle was vast. Not as grand as that of Dragonstone, nor as homey as Winterfell's but for size he'd never seen another like it. Great beams of wood canopied over an expansive area, which was filled to bursting, with the finer people of White Harbor. They were every bit as curious as their commoner counterparts, despite the fancy clothes and titles. As always, whispering followed their company, and most seemed to have to do with Daenerys.
Lord Wyman wanted to take them right into the hall but his oldest daughter, the taller and more serious looking of the two stepped forward. "Father, our guests must rest, and be given rooms."
"Yes," Lord Wyman bowed, slightly. He was a broad man and when he moved his armor clanged. "Pardon. Yes."
"This way Your Grace," the girl said to the Queen, a sturdy beauty with freckles, and she smiled at Jon before saying, "Your Grace."
The younger of the two, a wilder looking green-haired thing, also smiled on her way past. Jon decided to subtly check Dany's face and found that she also smiled, but it was quiet and seemingly to herself. The company followed the Manderly girls as they lead. When Daenerys was shown her rooms, Missandei moved to remove the queens white cloak and furs, and Jon lingered by the door long enough to see she wore a red dress. It dropped off her shoulders, hugging her body like her wished he could, and she looked like she was wrapped in a sheet and nothing else. His blood was rushing as he left her and though the Manderly girls were still smiling, Jon followed to his own room with a distracted mind.
He was trying so hard not to watch the queen. They made an oath to one another, in the dark of her room, to be only allies in public, and secret lovers at nights. But then, how she smiled at the people she spoke to, how she charmed them all, and how he fell for her over and over again... It was one thing to be against her skin in the softness of her bed, and an entirely different one to be walking alongside her in the presence of so many others and without freedom, even to touch.
"And here I thought the Manderlys would be fightin us over the Queens presence." Ser Davos remarked, looking around the room at the wares.
Jon laid his cloak down. "White Harbor is practically the South. If anyone would accept a Targeryen Queen it would be them. We could use their resources for our armies, it ought to be the richest city in Westeros now. for food."
"Do you suppose there's ale?" Davos asked quickly.
Jon grinned, "Lets find out."
Ale was brought and soon the queen council was back together again, and this time Jon had a better look at Dany's dress. Lord Wyman ushered them into the Hall, which fell silent at their approach, all the way to the high table. Jon saw some familiar faces but the vaster majority were strange, and not entirely the high table, Wyman encouraged, "Please sit. We have guests eager to speak with the King and Queen."
The statement caught Jon's breath slightly and he risked a look at Dany. King and Queen he said, as though...as though...And then Daenerys seating herself at the table, on the edge of her chair, as she often did, so that her feet might reach the ground. Her two closest guardians, Missandei and Greyworm stood just behind her, and Tyrion took the farther chair which left Jon to seat himself to her right. With Lord Wyman and his Banner-men beside him, Jon was sharing the center with her. When they were announced, titles flowing, by the Manderly's Maester, the man kept saying their names together, King Jon and Queen Daenerys. It was dizzying.
"I call upon the first who seeks audience with Queen Daenerys." the Maester said, his powdery hair was long and wispy. "Londas Tyrell, nephew of the late Lady Olenna."
A tall, golden haired youth came forward staring far too much at the queen, "Your Grace, I...I confess I had come to ask, no- to demand your help avenging the Lady Olenna. I was going to lay down at your feet if that's what it took, but when I saw you out on the docks, even the first moment I saw your face, My Queen, I believe I fell in love."
There was a shocked ripple through the guests, and an amused glance among the small council. Jon wanted nothing more than to throw the boy from the hall, but the queen was more tolerant. "You don't know me, young lord." she said softly, "you are mistaken."
The boy breathed in, "I do know you. And I love you."
"You met me only moments ago." she answered. Jon glanced down the line of chairs at Ser Jorah, who looked every bit as annoyed as himself.
"Be it moments ago or a thousand years ago, I am desperately in love," he fell to his knees and Jon nearly scoffed out loud. "I beg of you to help me avenge my great Aunt, and accept me as a suitor."
"Those are two rather large requests, especially since I just declared a truce with Cersei." she said, and Londas Tyrell looked baffled. And she opens her door to me every night, Jon thought to himself, but he looked at the boy with disdain. A child seeks her more directly than I did...
"Lord Wyman, can we divert this sort of visitor for the time being." Tyrion said quickly, and caught Jon's eye pointedly. Jon hadn't notice he was gripping the table in front of them tightly.
"Yes of course," he turned to Maester and said, "Theomore, do see that the marriage seekers are weeded out.."
"That is what I said in the first place!" Maester Theomore scowled. "For King Jon, I have two brothers of the Umber household bringing tidings of the North."
Jon nodded at the two who were jostling one another through the crowd. "My King!" They cried together, "I was first."
"I was." they shoved.
"You have news of the North?" Jon demanded and they stopped their grappling.
"You Grace," said one, "Our master told us not to come, but my brother insisted and the house of Umber does not support his claims-"
"Claims? I claim to hear what you've heard, but your so daft you don't understand it," the brother said to his brother and then turned to Jon. "Your Grace, I heard great rumblings North of the wall, and smashings, and hard noises of that sort."
"Rumblings and smashings?" Jon repeated.
The first brother piped up, "We don't support his claims."
"Seven curse you, I heard it!"
"My brother heard the wall weep, and crumble, Your Grace. Nothing more."
"It's bloody winter!?" the second brother cried. "Then I saw-"
"Oh don't tell him what you saw, I beg you."
Jon interrupted, "What did you see?"
"My King, I saw the wall- when it shuddered."
"Shuddered." Jon got a strange chill.
"As though a great wave traveled through it, and on down it. I swear it Your Grace. We've been running sheep in that area for generations, and we grew up watching the wall. I've never seen a thing like this."
The other brother sighed, "You've been dreaming about the wall, and making up stories about Wildlings, and fables. Why don't you include that part."
Maester Theomore glanced back at Jon, "There have been no ravens to corroborate this."
Jon had been considering the wall breached for weeks, but hearing whispers that it might be true, was startling. The two brothers were Umber's men, and headed back North anyways. "You two I task with discovering the truth." They two suddenly stood a little taller, and far more silent. "Go North and ask anyone you can find what the state of the wall is. Check in at inns and strongholds, gather rumors, and send ravens to Winterfell, anywhere you can."
They nodded, both with fire in their eyes and when they left they were no longer shoving one another but moving together with a purpose. The murmuring that followed made the color in Jon's face next man to approach did so unannounced, and it seemed as though the Maester was much confused by him even though he looked a very wealthy and important man by how he was dressed.
"My Lord..." Theomore paused, "I do not recognize this one. Lord...Carborne? Whom do you seek?"
"A man has not given his name," he said, and bowed low. "And he is seeking safe passage to Winterfell."
"What business do have there?" Jon demanded.
The man incline his red head. "A man has his own business."
"Whom do you represent?" Jon asked him.
The man was not exactly powerful or dangerous looking, until he looked on Jon with steely gray eyes. "A man serves the Many Faced God."
"That isn't a god of Westeros."
"No," suddenly Daenerys said, she and though she answered Jon, she watch the man in front of them, warily, "His temple is in Braavos."
"A girl knows it." the mans eyes warmed.
"I lived there, once." Jon could help but notice how wistful her voice was.
His hair had a strong white streak, and was held back. He stood with his body to the side, like a swordsman, and looked on them all as though he knew exactly how to win if it should come to a fight. He smiled slightly and answered the Queen.
"A man knows this. In a house with a red door, and a lemon tree outside. A man came to this house once..." Daenerys breath escaped her, and Jon heard it. His gaze flicked from her to the man. "At this house was a small girl in the yard. A man watched this girl, with hair like the moon, and eyes the color of the sky after a storm. She dreamed, and stared far off. She nursed little things to health, and she was a comrade of the servants of the house. Then a man saw the girls brother, and he was selfish. He struck the girl, killed her broken things, and punished the servants."
Jon couldn't stop his eyes trailing over her during his words, watching her react to the words, her beautiful, bare shoulders rolled with each breath she took. She was a lonely child, his heart went out to her, so was I. If I'd been with her I would have driven her hateful brother from her home. But that was an absurd thought.
"You watched us," Dany confirmed softly, "And may I ask, who commissioned a man of the Many Faced God to murder two children."
"A man regrets, this knowledge is not given to a servant. But when a man goes back to speak with the Many Faced God, he shares the knowledge he gained. A girl was spared."
"As was my brother."
The man bowed softly, "A servant does not question."
Daenerys considered him for a moment, and leaned her head closer to Tyrion, who whispered something to her. After a moment she turned to Jon, and leaned in, to whisper, "I would allow him to travel with us, what do you say?"
Jon frowned. "That's an absurd idea. He was going to kill you."
"He didn't." she answered. "It seems strange but it almost feels like a debt..."
Jon looked her over, "Fine then. But have him keep his distance."
Dany smiled, with that look she had. The one where he felt entirely found out by her and then she turned back to the mysterious man. "You are granted safe travel with us to Winterfell. We leave at first light."
The man bowed once more, and then backed away, and vanished into the crowd. There were more visitors. Many families swearing fealty to the queen, confessing that they'd been secretly cheering for her for years, which seemed to make her slightly amused. She accepted them, and some even came to Jon, swearing they would only follow him, which was rather tense at times, but the afternoon wore on until at last Lord Wyman stood an told the guests there would be a banquet that night for the highborn, and the Royal party and asked that they be left to prepare. There came next a great shift of environment. They rose from the table, as the great hall emptied, and the small council walked with the Queen to her guest quarters eager to talk about the news and events. She listened, but Jon felt perhaps that she wasn't fully listening. He did not go to his own room. Eventually the council began to leave.
"May I speak alone with you, my Queen?" Jon said and slowed a few of them down. Dany blushed just slightly, but nodded to dismiss Missandei. She did not catch the look passed between Varys and Tyrion before they closed the chamber door.
Her eyes were to the ground, but he waited and they very slowly lifted up to Jon. Suddenly, he couldn't stand the distance any longer, and crossed the room to her, noting that she neither moved toward him, nor did she do anything to stop him. So long did he kiss her, as though he'd been away for years, that they were both short of breath after. Her arms and body, he felt every bit of her within the fabric of the red gown.
"This dress..." he touched the skin just about her neckline. "is driving me mad."
"I could have sworn it was the guests," she whispered in the close spaces between them.
Jon scowled, "Renegades all, I wish Lord Wyman had kept them away. Especially the young one."
She smiled that same smile that told Jon he was being transparent again, "It is an intriguing thought though." she remarked, looping her arms around his neck, "To suddenly feel intense love for someone the moment one sees them. Do you think such a thing is even possible?"
Jon looked her over thoroughly, seeing her sitting on her throne again in his memories eye, small, poised, bewitching. Hair like the moon, the strange mans words came back to him, and eyes the color of the sky after a storm... "Yes." he said at last. "Yes, I do."
Her face was softly pink, "Jon...Avy jorraelan."
He didn't know what it meant, he never did, but it did something to him, inside. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs fluidly around him, as though more than ready. Pushing back her curls, he kissed her more greedily than he supposed a nobleman should, carrying her to the nearest wall, and pressing her back against it. He was driven by jealousy he supposed, but when he broke away, she was flushed and her breathing was shallow. Her breasts were her rising and falling fast, and her colorful eyes were reduced to small rings around black. Jon's hands moved up her dress, scrambling, searching for-
Fuck, he stopped, with his fingers inside of her, She is wetter than water. He tore the front of his clothing open as best he could, and against the wall he entered her, fast and hard, once, twice. Then with the third, her body convulsed and when a loud cry escaped her, Jon stopped it with his own mouth.
"Shhhh..." he said around her lips. But he could feel her releasing on his cock, and the shudder through her small frame, her sudden limpness. His knees were growing weak with it, but again he looked at her, red of cheek and lip, searching his face. You know me, girl. he silently urged himself in deeper, You are mine. And then he began in earnest. Every thrust rippled through her body, he could see it in her breasts, and feel it in how her hair bounced against his fingers. He could feel it in her legs around him, she gripped where ever she could. Against the wall behind her, or clinging to his shoulders, every breath she took was a gasp, in rhythm with his own.
They became something new like this, a thing made up of two people so connected it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other took over. Jon had only felt matched in his want by her own want for him. She is the only one who can stop this, and she hasn't. Maybe he'd been a fool to tell her he loved her... She'd not said it back yet. Not in words, but together under cloaks with naught to separate them but their own skin, she said it there in her eyes and her actions, in her face and in her mouth... I would endure all seven hell's for her mouth.
Whatever we are, with our bodies locked together like this, Jon stared at her after reaching his own finality, every time I taste her skin, and every time she lays her own beautiful mouth on me. More and more the feeling is seeping into my bones. I feel I have found my way. Impossible, he told himself over and over, that the love for a girl was enough to feel I am home...