She appears on a ship in the greatest grips of a storm. Her appearance frightens a ship-hand, and he lets go of a rope he was holding tight – and with his failure, the sail of the ship comes swinging around, mast creaking and then cracking, falling. Thea can't save them, or even help them – she's too busy trying to help herself. She finds her way inside the ship, trying to get her bearings, sweeping a sheet of water from her brow before nearly screaming in fright as an armed bear of a man approaches her with a drawn sword.
"What the hell are you doing? You could kill someone with that thing!" The wolf inside makes itself known as a snarl escapes her mouth, at odds with her fearing expression. The man sways with the rocking ship, almost falling if not for his hand on a beam above. The witch, however, finds herself on the floor, elbows pained. A large slosh of water falls through the open door, dousing Thea but not really doing much for her except giving her a shock. It had been a long time since such temperatures affected her.
"Who are you? I know everyone on this ship-" his words are drowned out by a rumble of thunder and crack of lightning, so loud that it seems like the source of each is right beside them. "Who are you?"
"Thea! Thea Lupin-"
But then there's another crack of lightning and lupine senses, hearing, let Thea know right before it happens that something else is cracking, falling- falling on top of them. Thea is already on the floor, and the mast comes crashing through the ceiling. The man is crushed, his sword falling and sliding over to where Thea lies. She grabs at it before it can cut her, vanishing the scratched, nicked blade with only a touch.
Staggering to a stand, Thea aims to apparate out then and there, but then she hears it and everything in her goes graveyard cold.
"Oh no, oh no-" Thea rushes through the ship, following the baby's cries. It can't be more than a newborn, it's so, so quiet. She jumps over obstacles, letting her wolf out more than she has in decades just so she doesn't trip or slip on a patch of water. She finds herself ramming into a door, knocking it open and looking around wildly, pinpointing the source of the noise.
The baby is a girl, Thea can immediately tell. She's swaddled in a fine crimson dress, with golden embroidery, and she's laying on the ground beside a tipped, gold-encrusted cradle. Above her, a boy with the same white blonde hair as the baby, probably not even eight, is staring dead-eyed at the ceiling, a beam fallen on his shoulder, his neck decidedly off-centre. Thea rockets over to the babe as the ship lurches, sea-water bursting in through a window, hitting the boy and dislodging both him and the beam. Thea acts without thinking, picking up and holding the baby close to her chest, curling inwards, twisting on her ankle-
Land, she thinks, safety, land, the closest land that's safe.
Thea acts without thinking, picking up and holding the baby close to her chest, curling inwards, twisting on her ankle and disapparating from the ship that is being torn apart, reappearing on a dusty, sandy beach. She falls to the ground, shoulder first, before rolling onto her back. In her arms, the baby cries quietly and Thea's wolf is the only thing pushing her to sit up, to check on her and make sure she's okay.
The first thing she does is check her breathing, cradling her head and spine gently like she's seen people do. I must have held a baby at some point, at some point, Thea thinks semi-frantically, too absorbed in making sure the little girl is alive and well to completely lose her mind over the fact that she just stole a baby.
"The ship was breaking up, to be fair," she mutters as the baby continues to cry. It's then that Thea notices the cool heat to the air, not quite humid, but hot enough that Thea has a terrible feeling that when the sun rises, they'll burn like anything.
Searching the baby's clothes though, proves rather strange as she finds not one, but three silver knives hidden in the ribs of her waist and arms. So dangerous to have around a baby, she thinks in disbelief, before vanishing them and tracing over the soft black thread that sewed an elaborate, beautiful D into the dark red fabric.
"You need a name," Thea mutters after a short period of deliberation, before changing her grip on the baby gently, eyes glued to the girl as she pushes the morph – causing her sandy-brown hair to brighten into silky white, green eyes matching the violet that she can see clearly even in the dark. She changes her pale skin, too, remembering the soft tan of Tante Gabrielle, and wonders if the baby recognises the changes, because she quiets.
"There you go. I'll have to think of something to call you, darling. How about Daniela? Daniela is a nice name, don't you think? I could call you Dany, for short, perhaps." Thea sits in the sand for what seems an age, simply holding the girl to her chest. The morph threatens to drop once she's confirmed Daniela's asleep, but she keeps it up, holding it in place, pressing it into herself. No need to revert to her usual appearance at random.
Looking away from Daniela, Thea gets her bearings. She's on a sandy dune, near the edge of a lowering tide. The sand is faintly wet, as she digs deeper, but the topmost layers are dry as bone. A quick point me using a strand of dried seaweed sees the nearest civilisation to her left. Not wasting any time, Thea stands once more, apparating as far as her eye can see, occasionally using the point me spell again to make sure she didn't go too far.
Daniela doesn't wake as she apparates from place to place, so Thea makes sure to hold her close, makes sure she can feel her breathe against her thin, damp blue robe. At some point, she transfigures a shawl to wrap around her, to hold Daniela against her chest comfortably. She's so small and warm. Thea thinks that she might truly – truly – be something of a newborn by how small she is and the giant, pulsing egg on her head.
'Civilisation' turns out to be a city, set in a large gulf. Thea finds her way inside, investigating the new territory. People are either rich to their gills or living in poverty. It's a trifle to pickpocket a man or two's purse, magic setting her robe to right and subtly changing Daniela's to match – that the children dress like their parents is another thing she takes note of.
"Excuse me," she crouches in front of a pair of ragged boys with hollow cheeks and thin legs poking out of sack-shifts. Holding up two golden coins in front of them, she immediately has their attention. "Would you happen to know an establishment I might have a room in until further notice? It doesn't have to be especially pricey, but security is good."
One of the boys tries to snatch the coins, but she clasps them inside her fist in a quick flick of her wrist. "Ah-ah, no, you can both get one of these. One boy to tell me and take me where I want to go, the other to answer any questions I may have during my stay here. Make a decision. I'll give my guide a coin before we depart, the second pending on whether we actually get there without you backstabbing me and being courteous."
"What's 'cortus'?"
"Courteous is having manners and being generally pleasant," Thea stands as one holds out his hand, flipping it into his grasp. Each boy scrambles to their feet, the guide walking in front of them as the other stands beside her. "Now, tell me: what is this city called?"
"Pentos, milady."
"Never heard of it," Thea replies in a breeze, "Why don't you tell me what you know? How do things work? Are there knights? Is there a king here? How much is it to buy a piece of fruit?"
"We don't have knights, milady, that's for West'ros. We got guards though, wimpy ones. The Dothraki are in charge. The rich folk give 'em fancy presents and all that so they don't attack us and burn us down. It's a copper for two apples. I can get four barrels of apples with that golden dragon, though." His eyes gleam, staring at her closed hand. Thea watches him warily, before suddenly lashing out at a passing merchant, grabbing their collar and growling, eyes flashing amber.
"I'd give that back, if I were you."
The merchant squeaks as Thea roughly takes back her father's fobwatch, pushing him away from her. From the side, an armoured man approaches, lance held warily.
"My lady, is this vagrant causing you trouble?"
"Not anymore. They tried at being a pickpocket and failed, is all."
Thea gets to watch the guard haul the merchant off, even as they babble and try to appeal to the guard's monetary needs. Daniela stirring distracts her though and soon she is in a dilemma as Daniela screws her eyes up and wails, their journey at a halt as Thea tries to think of what to do.
"She very young, milady? You not got milk to feed her?"
Thea flushes a little, but shakes her head. "No. My ship crashed on some rocks and I made my way here on foot. I- I ran, uh, dry. I've got no other supplies except gold…"
The boy looks to the guide. "Go get her some goat's milk from the stall 'round the corner. Babies don't like not being fed. She'll keep whining otherwise."
The guide hurries off, and when he returns, it's with a leather container stuffed with a rag that smells faintly of done milk. But Thea'll take what she can get. By the time they reach the tavern the boys led her to, Daniela's asleep again, to Thea's relief. To the boys, she gives five gold coins apiece. They rush off on shaky legs immediately. Inside, Thea rents a room for a week. The owner of the tavern is happy to have her and offers meals, which she gladly accepts, stomach rumbling.
Later, however, Thea re-evaluates what she's actually done in this new world. She'd thought she'd appear in another dimension so similar to her own…but she hadn't. Instead, she'd basically adopted a newborn baby and made a thief of herself. Not to mention how not even before sunrise, two more children were knocking on her door, asking for jobs for coins. Thea gladly gives them jobs, asking them to seek out books, maps, a reputable banker, an experienced nursemaid for advice about Daniela and to spread the chores around other street-rats, if they wanted, for they'd only get one coin upon their return with the needed items or people.
"A day's salary," she calls it after struggling to think of how to phrase it.
An hour's worth of arithmancy gives her a spell to introduce lactation to her system properly, the hormone swing she suffers as a result, in her opinion, far much more of a price than she deserves for taking in the presumably orphaned baby girl. But soon Daniela's needs are properly introduced to her, the nursemaid instructing her how to properly feed and care for her new daughter and Thea feels a little better, knowing she was doing the young child a favour in the long run.
"Goats milk is all and well," the nursemaid says in a gravelly voice, croaking from age, "but mothers milk is always better for the child's health."
Books come after that, the maps proving useful in their vagueness. She could say she came from west of Westeros, or far east, or Lys – apparently Daniela's fine blonde hair is an indicator that she may be of Lyseni blood. Lyseni. Thea does like that word.
The books and information she takes in quickly, the translation matrix tattooed on her skin making the foreign languages within an easy task to learn and assimilate. Common tongue, as English is known as, has different and far more annoying script than Queens English, so it's a blessing in disguise, especially when the banker comes.
The banker's visit proves things in this world to be far more different than modern banking, in her previous world. She simply has to sign a contract – see: why knowing written common tongue as well as Valyrian was good and well – stating she agrees to his bank holding her money and using it, paying her back with interest. She gives him a bulky purse as a first instalment, and pays half a dozen urchins to guard him from thieves on the way to the vaults, with a promise of three extra coins from a secondary sack – which she gives to the banker to hand out under oath he'd do it – when the banker reaches his destination.
Once she has that money in the bank, Thea considers her place in the world. Pentos will know her as a rich lady – who would hopefully live in a villa in the near future – with street-urchins at her beck and call. At least, she hopes Pentos will know her as such. Magic, she discovers, is seen as cursed. Any sign that she is a witch and she'll have a mob on her hands, trying to burn her.
Or rather, she'll have religious fanatics of 'Asshai' trying to burn her, for their ridiculous Lord of Light.
Soon, her room is full of things, things that she asks the urchins to move for her to her new home a month after her original arrival to Pentos. They're at her beck and call and it's just surreal, the feeling of having dozens of people at her disposal. Her new home, thankfully, has many rooms, so she has a builder come and install dozens of bunks for them.
"Really, milady?" The head of them, a girl by the name of Csandi, gapes as Thea explains. "But- but we don't do nothing! We just- just work for you. We don't want to be no slaves, living in your fancy villa-"
"You are children," Thea interrupts in anger, almost shaking at the insinuation they'd be her slaves. "I'm taking you in because you don't have homes – and I have rules. You learn your letters, your manners, your numbers and your proper words. You wear a uniform in the day and pyjamas at night. You get baths whenever you like, and food whenever you're hungry. If you're sick, you see a doctor- sorry, a healer. I…I'm very new to this kind of world. Where I lived, you would have never lived like you do now, not if the government could help it."
"You want us to learn our letters?" Csandi stares, flabbergasted. "You- you'll teach us?"
"I will, though probably I'll get someone to come and teach you. I don't know, I haven't worked out all the logistics." Thea shakes her head, before walking over to where Daniela lies in her crib, whining. "Spread the word. I'm going to do this."
And Csandi does get the story told. Those that appear at her villa gates over the next few months are let in and immediately sent to bathe, hired help under Thea's instruction helping them with the soaps and suchlike, sending those injured and crippled to see Maester Lioro. Thea teaches them letters and numbers at first, but Maester Lioro and his colleague Maester Olin take over a few days after watching her, creating a daily teaching plan for the children who board, copying her techniques. A special classroom she has made up has circular tables with smooth stone surfaces, for chalk, stools surrounding them.
Remembering her Hogwarts days and even before that, in muggle primary school, Thea knows to make it a rule that there's to be no class bigger than that of eight. Such a rule, of course, eventually requires she hire more maesters as educators and they do not complain, most of the time. Any maesters that do not prove themselves to be suitable are swiftly booted from the villa.
Thea spends most of her time however, after the original takeover, looking after Daniela, and organising her finances for both herself and for the school, what has locally become known as 'the young urchins academy'. Of course, Thea, being a recluse-in-denial, only knows this because of her staff. She receives plenty of letters, and adult visitors at her gate, but only those below the age of fifteen or so are allowed in – the single guard she'd recruited, not liking the concept of having a personal militia, knows the requirements for entry better than the back of his hand, and Thea considers him intuitive enough to know when a plant is being sent into her home.
The wards tell her anyway, but it's the thought that counts.
Those same wards keep out any that would wish to enter without her permission, too. They work against flying projectiles, too, Thea delights in discovering, having adjusted her personal set over the years without really remembering what she's added. In her mind, she understand why people might try to assassinate or otherwise harm her – it's one thing to take in a single orphan and educate them, another to take in over a hundred.
To Thea, it's a proud moment when one of the preteen urchins comes up to her asking for a letter of recommendation to join the Pentos Banking Guild, as was apparently required seeing as he's a 'graduate' of her academy. She knows he's clever with numbers – it's no surprise to her that he'd applied, but that the only proof they needed was a letter from her? Pride, is what brings Thea joy that day.
The day he leaves to join the Bankers Guild officially is coincidentally also the anniversary of the day that Thea and Daniela were united, so they have a feast to celebrate both events. Her students call it the Nameday Feast of Little Lady Dany, however, despite how Thea tries to get Lono's achievement included in the title. It becomes a little less important, however, when Daniela, after a long, worrying bout of mutism, says her first proper word.
Being called "Mama" is both joyful and heart-breaking, because Daniela will never know her true mother, nor whatever her real name might once have been.
After the Feast, more adults crowd the gate and more messages start flying in. For once, Thea answers some, for they ask if her students would wish to test into guilds, smithies, shipping companies and suchlike – and the best of all offers, in Thea's opinion, the opportunity to join those in the Citadel of Oldtown in Westeros, a special ship to be chartered especially for them should more than six decide to leave.
Strangely, most at first decide to stay, but there are around a dozen that decide to leave for better prospects, wearing newly-bought clothes – for all children are given a monthly allowance to spend as they like within Pentos and those going now have the ability to buy proper clothes that will suit them in their endeavours. When Daniela's third nameday approaches, little more than half of her students decide to leave, either old enough now to begin their lives or going to awaiting jobs.
The sudden lack of children is more disturbing than any pride she might gain from their achievements.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, urchins do come to the school and parents begin to approach Thea differently. Take them for a time, educate them, for I cannot. Here they will have a better life. It's strange at first and slightly insulting, but Thea agrees anyway, and grows to like it. More students filter in and filter out. Thea…grows less attached and while is no less proud, is more distanced.
Daniela takes up her time, mostly. They don't much leave the villa, but when they do, they go to the beach, a private part that's usually left barren of people. Daniela's hair is darker now, so is Thea's. Thea calls it the difference in foods and drinks from their homeland. No-one notices though, not really, and if they do, it's only for a short while. Potions and mind magic might not be favoured disciples of Thea's, but that doesn't mean she's no less than capable. By the time eight years has passed, both Thea and Daniela had hair so brown that it would be hard to believe they were 'once of Lys' – especially as she changes their eyes to emerald green.
Thea tries to convince herself it's not because of the story she heard of the last Targaryen's drowning at sea and their famous white-blond locks and violet gazes.
Daniela is a quiet child, but domineering when she decides to speak. Her presence takes up an entire room when she lifts her chin and straightens her back. To the students, she is an ideal and her circle of friends are that and followers both, loyal to a fault and utterly captivated. Thea – maybe, sometimes – wistfully regrets changing her appearance, for she would look even more powerful with strangeness of features, able to be picked out from a crowd and called leader.
Her daughter impresses her and makes her feel prideful in a different way to how her students made her feel. It's the pride of a parent who knows their child is going somewhere, is becoming someone that could conquer the world if they so chose. Thea doesn't realise it even occurs to Daniela until she catches her friends laughingly calling her Your Grace, Daniela happily exclaiming that she'll be High Queen of Westeros one day.
"You'll see me sitting on the Iron Throne one day, I swear – even if I have to cut down Robert Baratheon himself!" She laughs, but her words are serious – this is her life goal, Thea realises and it's- it's purpose that Thea finds later, when she's thought about it for hours on end without stopping. Her school has inspired so much change around Essos – the Iron Bank approached her only a year before, asking for her villa plans and school timetables, so that they might birth a new business endeavour that is charity and public schooling, meant to teach those children of poverty for free and charge those with working guardians some few coppers a month.
Thea could leave Essos behind knowing she'd done something worthwhile and focus on what her daughter wants. The Iron Throne.
She approaches Daniela at eleven, when the Long Summer begins to waver and colder winds begin to blow. "Do you want Westeros?"
"Did you rescue me from the wreck of the Targaryen's ship?"
I raised her too clever.
"Yes."
"Then yes," Danaerys meets her eyes, green meeting green. "Yes, I want Westeros, mother."
Thea sells the villa to the Iron Bank, naming the original maesters of her school – Lioro and Olin – the Professors of Teaching. Daniela says goodbye to all her friends, not revealing what truth she knows about herself now and then they leave Pentos, reaching out to the Great Khal Drogo who might provide them with an army. Daniela becomes Danaerys, ordering her mother to remove all her glamours, to reverse all her magics and return them to their original forms.
It's safe to say that Thea has some fun with her own appearance when Danaerys orders her to do the same, before finally settling back on her preferred form that she's had these past few thousand years – being the Master of Death isn't fun, exactly, but it has its benefits. Wandless magic is only one.
So, upon becoming silver-haired and purple-eyed – and turquoise-haired and amber-eyed, in Thea's case – Danaerys and Thea make their way to the khalasar. Drogo looks upon them both and for a moment, Thea sees his heated gaze travel over her daughter, before he looks back to her and nods.
"You will be my wife," he meets her eyes and Thea nods, for that was the agreed price. Beside her, Danaerys raises an eyebrow before murmuring to her mother in common-tongue, holding out her arm.
"My translation matrix isn't working."
Thea glances at it in confusion, "What? I watched you do it yourself." Taking her wrist, Thea looks at it and immediately realises the problem. "Ah. That's because it's faded too much. It'll have to be redone."
Danaerys grimaces but nods, looking over to where Drogo sits, watching them suspiciously. Thea glances at her fiancé.
"A trick for the mind, tattooed into her skin like it is mine – I designed it to help her understand different languages easier. It's fading, so she did not understand what you said completely, or what I am saying now."
Drogo frowns slightly, before nodding sharply. "She is to be my daughter-by-bond. To not know my language would be dishonouring to me."
"She'll know it, Great Khal," Thea promises.
She is wed to Drogo less than a month later, his khalasar celebrating their union in the typical dothraki way. Thea grimaces at the first death – Danaerys lets out a little shock of horror – but nods approvingly as more pile up. Twenty bodies lie on the ground when people begin to rut beside the fire at the setting of the sun, Thea riding away with Drogo with Danaerys being left in the capable hands of servants – servants being a kinder word for slaves, slaves which Thea paid silently in gratitude and forthrightness about the way they are kept and collared in thick rope.
Their lovemaking is rough. Thea knows it's not meant to show love and they come to a silent accord as they fuck till the moon is high up in the sky, her wolf escaping her grasp enough to howl at her peak. Thea has been married before a few times, but this is an alliance as much as it is a partnership.
I am a Khaleesi.
She plans to convince Drogo to sail across the Narrow Sea with his army within the next three years, but fails to realise something quite important: that being birth control. Danaerys becomes a sibling twice over before Drogo is assassinated and Thea takes control of the largest khalasar that Essos had ever seen. She storms across the Narrow Sea with her people, taking the Stormlands and making her way west before changing course as the Tyrell's and Dornish join her, swiftly directing her towards both the Crownlands and Kings Landing.
Thea goes north to the Crownlands and faces the Lannister army.
Danaerys goes to Kings Landing and beheads King Joffrey, the incest-born son of Queen Cersei and Jaime Lannister – Robert Baratheon died just two years before of poison.
Once the Crownlands are taken, the North, united under the banner of the King in the North, Robb Stark, allies with them, claiming the Northern territories as they had a thousand years past. Danaerys agrees to it after a letter is sent, Thea helping the Northern army to crush those that would oppose them – the Frey's, the Bolton's and what little remains of the Arryn's. Then the word is officially spread – that Thea rescued Danaerys from the sinking Targaryen ship and raised her as her own.
The khalasar is at half their original number by this time and Thea makes the decision to send them back to Essos, naming her most powerful bloodrider Khal and rescinding any claim she and her children have to the title. They refuse to leave, however, the bloodrider disagreeing to his appointment.
A good thing, as it turns out that the Wall calls for arms, the Free Folk by their side. The White Walkers have risen and thousands of Others are their invading force.
The khalasar goes north, being gifted furs and Northern armour just as the Southron armies are so that they might survive the terrible cold. Thea leaves her children – her son and daughter, Drogon and Romula Lupin – in Winterfell under the watchful eye of Catelyn Stark, along with the rescued Lady Sansa and the former political hostages, young Lord Robert Arryn, Shireen Baratheon and Tommen Waters. Before they leave off again to the Wall, Thea gets to watch as Rickon Stark is presented to the widowed Lady of Winterfell and King Robb.
It's a happy but sobering sight.
They go to the Wall and once there, Thea has to face the Lord Commander whose name escapes her every time she tries to remember it – but she hates him and is glad when he insults her and gets slaughtered by one of her bloodriders as a result.
"Do not insult our Khaleesi again," the murderous dothraki glares at the Night's Watch, who are suitably fearful, yet angry. Soon enough, Jon Snow is elected Lord Commander and Thea gets a…feeling. Something deep in her bones calls him to her and she doesn't quite know why, but in two ways she finds him familiar – the first being that he reminds her of Danaerys and the second being-
She doesn't know, but her wolf does.
Pretty quickly, however, Jon Snow is assassinated and Thea only looks to his direwolf. He's still here, she knows, she senses – he's still here.
The Red Lady Melisandre is quick to try resurrecting him, thankfully, but by the time he awakens, a week has passed and the Others are suitably gathered against them. His revival is looked past after a few hours, because there is an army piling up to spill over the Wall. Burning oil can only do so much.
Thea can only do one thing: help.
Fiendfyre is her weapon of choice, but the Wall is magic and it attracts the dark fire just as much as the Others do. The White Walkers aren't affected and simply build an icy shield to protect themselves. The warriors gathered at the walls have to evacuate, rushing east and west along the slowly melting Wall, which crumbles and liquefies under foot. Only Danaerys and Jon stay and they walk through the fire without fear, fire burning their clothes but leaving them untouched.
Jon is a Targaryen, Thea realises in her last moments of producing Fiendfyre, the Others suitably ashy. Danaerys and Jon begin to shiver in the cold in front of the icy wall of the White Walkers and Thea apparates to their location, conjuring thick clothes and leathers around their bodies just as the ice shatters. The White Walkers stare at them, before Jon raises his Valyrian sword and enters into combat, Danaerys quickly following.
Thea prefers magic when fighting – but she wasn't always able to use magic, was she?
Ice, the Stark Ancestral Sword had been melted down and forged anew into two lion-pommelled bastard swords. In the war against their enemies, Danaerys had claimed them both from father and son, gifting her mother the longer of the two, watching with a small smile as Thea reworked the lions into each a dragon and a wolf. The women now wielded those two swords as they faced White Walkers and it's short work for Thea to dispatch hers – not so, for Danaerys. She's all small limbs and short reach, with limited combat practice as a teenager, more used to directing her armies at her enemies than facing them one-on-one.
Jon beheads Danaerys' White Walker as she drops her sword.
Thea's the one to take the blow meant for him from the Night King.
She feels like she's freezing from the inside out. Everything in her vision swims and the scream of her daughter is the last thing she hears before darkness engulfs her. The pain disappears and an unfamiliar figure holds her hand, yanking her to her feet.
"You must come with me quickly, Mistress," he says, tugging her further into the darkness. She can't fight – she can barely run. Her feet are lead and she stumbles every few steps. "Come on! You must come! Your body is dying and I can't make you a new one – that's not my domain."
Something primal in her being recognises the man after he stops speaking, when he finally lets go of her hand and leaves her in the dark roots of a tree, in an earthy cavern where two men – one old, one young – lay. Death! She shouts in her mind, Death, come back, come back!
The old man looks at her, eyes gaining a milky film. "Boy- boy!" He calls, the boy joining him immediately, grabbing a tree root – a spectre immediately standing from his body, matching him in looks. "Boy, you need to take her spirit to her body, now."
"What- what's going on?" The boy whispers, but as if mesmerised, rushes to her, grabbing her shoulders, their surroundings changing. In front of them, Thea watches the Night King go to strike Jon – then watches herself fall into the path of the blade instead. The pain rushes back to her, a gasp escaping her.
The boy pulls her towards her body. "Get in!" He pushes her down and she stumbles into her body, sucking in a breath. She looks over to him, watching as he disappears abruptly, spirit leaving them.
"Mama!" Danaerys screams, coming to her body and putting hands on her wound – a wound which has already closed. "…Mama?"
"I'm fine, my love," Thea whispers, sitting up and hugging her daughter tightly. Danaerys gives a shuttering breath as Jon drops his sword, falling to his knees beside them, exhausted.
"Are you a witch?" He asks in a tired voice. "You have to be a witch, it's the only explanation."
"I'm a witch," Thea nods, releasing Danaerys. "And you're a Targaryen – a Stark, but a Targaryen."
"I figured, after walking through fire and all that," he mutters.
"Lyanna Stark must have been your mother," Danaerys says quietly, disbelievingly. "You're the rightful King of Westeros."
"Oh no, no way in all the Hells," he vehemently denies and shakes his head. "I'll leave that job to you, thanks, Conqueror Queen."
Thea presides at the official coronation, her reputation as a witch enough to drive away most objectors. Taking much inspiration from Aslan of the Chronicles of Narnia, she crowns more than one monarch, too, taking the chance to properly recognise Robb as King of the North, along with his queen, Talisa, naming their daughter a princess.
Danaerys doesn't take a partner, vowing to end the Targaryen bloodline. Instead, she insists upon the monarchy of the Dornish Royals being recognised and Quentin Martell is crowned King of the Far South, the Far South officially being Dorne and 'Its Northern Territories' – those Northern Territories being that of the Reach. Danaerys takes control of all the remaining lands surrounding the Reach, including the Iron Islands and Dragonstone, all the way up to the marshes of Moat Cailin.
That, it is decided without Thea's consent, is the Lupin Seat, self-governing in all rights and a border patrol between the North and South.
Robb apparently came up with it, curse him, willing to grant Thea the land, seeing as now that the Wall was still melting, it meant that he now governed over not only the original North, but also North of the Wall. Moat Cailin was small in the grand scope of his new lands to rule. That doesn't, of course, give him any excuse against Thea's constant badgering as they make their way north to Winterfell, where Thea takes back custody of her children and picks up Shireen Baratheon and Tommen Waters.
Tommen was to be taken to Dorne, where his sister lives happily married to King Quentin. He was originally to be taken in by Danaerys, but frankly, none wanted a Lannister anywhere near the newly renamed Kings Landing, henceforth to be known as Queens Landing, for the next hundred years. Shireen Baratheon similarly was dissuaded from going anywhere near Dragonstone and so would become a ward of the Iron Islands under Asha Greyjoy. Young Robert Arryn was to stay in Winterfell with his aunt, the time of eagles over as Danaerys installed old friends from Essos to who she had promised lands and castles in Westeros when she claimed it in the Eyrie.
Thea escorts the two children as far as Moat Cailin, before Lord Edmure Tully would have his people collect them, to be distributed to their new guardians within a short timeframe. Then, once they're gone, she magically rebuilds Moat Cailin from ground up, draining the marshes in most places and creating an appropriate defence system. Her khalasar settle both within and outside her castle, populating the new meadows and building their lives from the ground up. Drogon and Romula are ten by the time Westeros settles into its new normal.
And of course, that's when Jon comes back from Essos, after a long journey exploring the world with the returned Arya Stark, bearing three dragon eggs. For some reason, Thea's surprised when one hatches for her.
But that's another story.