Before you start reading, a word of warning . . .
This is a future fic and therefore, although has its roots in GRRM's books, no one but the man himself knows how the characters will develop or what trials they will suffer. All we know is that GRRM is gonna make them suffer – right?
Being a future fic, I feel I have some licence to write the characters the way I'd like them to be and that's just what I've done.
So, if you imagine an adult Arya would still be a tiny girl, then I'd say this fic isn't for you. If you imagine adult Gendry is going to let Arya walk all over him and hit him with impunity, then this fic isn't for you either.
However, if you'd like to see Arya as the beautiful, but deadly and damaged Lady of Winterfell then I think you'll enjoy this. If you'd like to see Gendry embracing his destiny as Robert Baratheon's son, then read on . . .
Chapter 1
A no-name bastard
The throne room fell silent. The very air the crowd breathed seemed thick and heavy with anticipation. Everyone waited, everyone watched the Queen on the Iron Throne high above them and everyone listened intently for her proclamation.
Gendry had spent years fighting through fire and blood and it all led to this one, life-changing moment. He had served the Dragon Queen with resolute, unquestioning loyalty and, at last, his efforts were to be rewarded. House Targaryen once again ruled Westeros and most of the realm was at peace, thanks in no small measure to him and to his men. Now the new Queen would show her gratitude. She had won the Iron Throne and, in order to ensure she held it, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the First of her Name, was granting lands and titles to those who had served her well; and none of her Commanders had won more victories or fought more bravely than Robert Baratheon's Flea Bottom bastard.
Storm's End and the title of Lord Baratheon would finally, deservedly, be his. No one deserved honour more than he did and, with the stain of his bastardy removed, a title and lands to his name, he would finally be able to pursue the lady who had haunted his dreams for years. Gendry suppressed the thrill of anticipation that thought gave him. He would have plenty of time to savour his success and plan the battle for his lady's hand and heart once the Queen granted him his due. Victory over the odds of his birth and circumstance was so close he could smell it. When he licked his dry lips, he could taste it.
The Queen slowly unrolled the scroll she had been holding her delicate hand. Daenerys Stormborn's regal, authoritative voice carried clear and true around the silent hall,
"The Stormlands, as they extend from the Crownlands in the North to Dorne in the South, from the Reach in the West to the Narrow Sea in the East and the great castle at Storm's End are mine to command. I gift them, as is only right and just, to a Baratheon. In recognition of his fealty to me I will legitimise him and grant him his birthright . . ."
Gendry's blood pounded in his veins and he let a slow smile of satisfaction curve his lips. Everything; all the sacrifice, all the sweat, violence and death that had brought him here would be justified as soon as he bent the knee and felt the royal sword upon his shoulders. No more would he be forced to endure the sneering insult of bastard, for his Queen would raise him high above them all. He would be the equal to any lord in the land and worthy of any lady.
The Queen's eyes lit upon him and she smiled most graciously . . . before she turned her back on him and proclaimed Edric Storm to be Lord Baratheon.
Edric. She had given everything that should have been his to Edric? When the only thing that bastard had done was hide in Lys and wait until it was safe to return to Westeros? And it was Gendry who had made it safe.Gendry who had waded through blood and tears for Westeros, for the Dragon Queen, yet it was Edric, who was too afraid to stay on the same fucking continent, who reaped the rewards.
To compound his shame, when the Queen had smiled at him, Gendry had started forwards towards the Iron Throne in eager anticipation. An iron grip on his bicep, hauled him back into the crowd where he was forced to stand with his men and watch that proud, preening, piece of shit Edric take what was rightfully his.
Gendry silently cursed his father, he cursed Edric, he cursed the Dragon Queen to the seven hells and back and he cursed his own stupidity most of all. Daenerys had never explicitly promised him the Stormlands, but it had been implied; it had been more than implied. She knew how badly he wanted legitimacy and stronghold of his House. Daenerys had dangled those rewards before him like a lure and he had chased that prize through battle after battle, like the naïve, bastard fool he was. Well, he was still a bastard, but he'd be a fool for her no more. He had won her war for her, but he was finished with her and done with Westeros.
The ceremony to bestow his honours upon Edric seemed interminable. With every passing moment, his shame and his rage at his humiliation increased until he was clenching his fists so hard his nails drew blood and his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth must surely break.
The moment it was finished and the new Lord Baratheon turned to smugly accept the enthusiastic cheers of the audience, Gendry headed for the doors, only to find his exit barred by a dozen white cloaked guards, with their Captain at their centre.
"The Queen wants you to stay," Daario Naharis smirked.
"The Queen can go fuck herself," Gendry growled as he made to push his way through the guards.
Before he was half way through, Gendry felt cold, hard steel at his throat and Naharis' moist breath against the back of his neck. The Captain of the Queensguard whispered bitterly, "Now why would she do that when she keeps the one who calls himself Aegon for that very purpose?"
Gendry turned his head as far as he dared, feeling the sharp point of a blade dig deeper into his neck. His own men had drawn their swords and Gendry signalled to them to stand down. Naharis had been Daenerys' lover once. Now he was openly hostile to anyone who enjoyed the Queen's favour; including Aegon and, until that farce of a ceremony, Gendry. He knew Naharis had been waiting for an excuse to kill him and it looked as if the blue haired cunt might have finally found it.
"All right, I'll stay," Gendry drawled casually as he held up his empty hands. The pressure against his neck eased slightly.
"That's right. Do what you're told like a good little bastard," Naharis hissed as he turned Gendry slowly back around to face the Iron Throne.
Gendry had been seething with anger before and Naharis' bastard comment was enough to shatter the thin veneer of his self control. Gendry had expected legitimacy; thought he had heard the last of that hated name, yet once again some fucker was able to taunt him with it.
Gendry's hand clamped around Naharis' wrist before the Captain of the Guard had a chance to react and before Gendry himself had time to ponder the stupidity of attacking the white cloaks in their lair.
Given the odds, Naharis never expected Gendry to retaliate. The Captain's complacency was, quite literally, his downfall. Using his greater size and weight as leverage, Gendry hauled Naharis by the wrist forwards and down, twisting the man's arm in a vice like grip as he fell. In an instant, Naharis was at Gendry's feet, gasping in pain as his arm was near wrenched out of its socket. Gendry's boot on his other shoulder, forced the Captain of the Guard lower still. Then the seven hells broke loose.
The other white cloaks seemed to have been stunned by the swiftness and the ferocity of Gendry's attack, but their Captain's cry of pain jolted them out of their stupor and twelve white cloaks simultaneously launched themselves at the bastard who, somehow, had their Captain pinned to the floor. Gendry's men were faster and, within moments of Naharis first barring Gendry's way, a mêlée erupted in the throne room. Women screamed, men bellowed and anyone not directly involved ran for their lives.
With his free hand, Gendry drew his sword and ferociously blocked any strikes from the white cloaks that broke through the defensive circle his men were fighting to maintain around him. More and more white cloaks poured into the hall, surrounding Gendry's tight knot of black cloaked soldiers, with Darrio Naharis on the ground at its centre.
"Desist! . . . Now!"
From high above them, the Queen's roared command rang out around the cavernous hall. The white cloaks immediately downed their weapons, and dropped to one knee before the Queen on the Iron Throne. After a nod from him, Gendry's men did the same, leaving Gendry as the only man standing. Daario Naharis' tried to struggle to his feet, but Gendry's boot exerted more pressure on the Captain's shoulder, keeping him down.
High above them, Daenerys rose to her feet and descended from the Iron Throne, so gracefully as to seem to be gliding. Her lilac eyes remained fixed on them, or more specifically, Gendry.
"Leave us!" the Queen called out sharply as she stepped down from the final, iron rung and strolled towards them.
The white cloaks and all the remaining occupants of the hall hurried to comply, save Gendry's men who waited once again for his order. He bid them leave with a slight incline of his head. One by one, they reluctantly filed out of the throne room, jostling the white cloaks with murderous intent as they went.
"You're not hurting my guards are you Gendry?"
The blue haired man writhing in agony at Gendry's feet was answer enough, so Gendry merely shrugged, being in no mood to play the Queen's games today.
"Maim the Captain of my Guard and I might have to appoint you as his replacement," Daenerys purred as she stalked towards them.
Unsure if her threat was genuine or not and being unwilling to risk spending the rest of his life prancing around the Red Keep in a white cloak, Gendry reluctantly released Naharis' wrist. He allowed himself a grin of satisfaction as the Captain of the Queensguard slumped to the floor with a heavy thud.
"Get up Daario," the Queen ordered, "I want to speak to Gendry alone."
"But Your Grace . . ." her Captain managed to whine through his pain.
"Out!"
Gendry could not suppress a smirk as Daario stumbled to his feet and, cradling his right arm protectively, staggered towards the door.
"Walk with me," the Queen commanded.
Gendry still bristled with furious resentment, but no matter how angry he was with her, he could not refuse a direct order from his Queen's own lips. So Gendry swallowed his pride, clenched his jaw and did as she asked.
The only sounds as they slowly traversed the great hall were the swishing of her dress over the tiled floor and the rhythmic clink of his spurs. The silence stretched between them, the air heavy with tension and Gendry's resentment. Just when he thought Daenerys was going to torture him further by making him walk the whole length of the hall in silence, she stopped, looked up at him and said, "So you are not happy with my decision to grant the Stormlands to Edric."
Gendry's mouth twisted into a sneer as he shook his head. Now that was seven hells of an understatement. He answered her through gritted teeth, "I deserved the Stormlands. I have done everything you asked of me. No one has done more."
She gave him an enigmatic smile and started walking again. Cursing her silently, Gendry stood and watched the Queen he had given five years of his life to, sway elegantly away. Suppressing the urge to turn on his heel, walk out and never return, he caught up with her in two of his long strides.
"Edric did nothing! Nothing, save hide behind his mother's skirts and wait for me to free the Stormlands."
"I know," Daenerys soothed, "But still . . . he had the better claim."
It was Gendry's turn to halt dead in his tracks. "Better claim be damned! We're both Robert's bastards and he will not be half the Lord and Protector of the Stormlands I would have been. And you damn well know it!"
The Queen sighed wearily and looked up at him with those impenetrable purple eyes, "True, but it is not that simple. He was born of noble blood on both sides and Robert acknowledged him. I could not favour him over you and keep my other lords happy."
"Fuck your other lords!" Gendry spat, "You deny me what should have been mine because Edric is less of a bastard than I am?!" His hands were fisted at his sides and if Daenerys had been a King instead of a Queen, she would have felt the full force of his wrath. Treason be damned, if she were a man, he would have pummelled her to a pulp with his bare hands. But she was half his size and he could not vent his frustration in a physical way. Barely keeping his anger in check, his voice was hard and cold as ice, as he growled, "I'll not be used again. I sail for Braavos with the tide. I hear the Iron Bank has need of a strong arm to collect the debts owed by the Iron Throne."
If Daenerys was troubled at all by his threat, then she did not show it. He was hurt, shamed and angry, but she knew him too well. He would not stoop to the depths of selling his sword and Daenerys knew it.
Her expression remained serene and inscrutable. "What if I told you I have always had another reward in mind for you? An even greater prize than the Stormlands."
"There is no greater prize for me than the Stormlands," he spat.
Daenerys gave him a sly smile and even a little giggle, "It is a good thing I know you better than you know yourself, my furious knight."
Gendry eyed her warily. Daenerys Stormborn was far from the naive, inexperienced Queen she pretended to be. She had been a Khaleesi when little more than a child, had many more years of experience as a ruler now and, as he was finding out to his cost, she was a master at manipulating men. Daenerys would do anything to get what she wanted. He had rejected her sexual advances, politely but firmly, shortly after they first met. He began to wonder if Daenerys denying him now was, in part at least, revenge for his rejecting her before.
Stroking her delicate hand down from his shoulder to rest on the boiled leather over his heart, she looked up at him through thick lashes and whispered, "What if I could grant you your heart's desire?"
The Dragon Queen knew nothing of his heart's desire and he was certainly not going to give her any further information with which to twist and manipulate him now.
"You have already given Storm's End to Edric," he snapped angrily.
She gave him another one of her deceptively girlish little giggles and smiled slyly up at him. "What if I were to give you . . . Winterfell?"
Whatever offer Gendry had expected her to make, it was not that.
"And all of the North."
He was instantly suspicious, while at the same time his heart hammered so hard it seemed about to burst out of his chest. He hoped Daenerys, with her hand still resting over his heart, could not feel its thunder.
His heart's desire lay behind Winterfell's walls, but how could Daenerys possibly know that? Very few did and most of them died with the Brotherhood Without Banners years before.
Striving to keep his voice calm and not betray his warring emotions, he drawled, "And why should I trust you again after that farce today?"
"I never promised you the Stormlands Gendry," she said with a resigned sigh.
"But you led me to believe they would be mine."
"I did," she admitted and gave him a little half smile of apology, "For that I am sorry, but believe me - I always had a bigger plan for you."
"Which is?" he asked warily, interested in the specifics of her offer, but uncertain if he could, or should, trust her again.
"Take the Twins for me and I shall give you Winterfell. This time you have my word."
He threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed cold and harsh around the empty hall.
Daenerys pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, her displeasure at his reaction written all over her beautiful face.
"You claim to offer me my heart's desire, but send me to my death," he mocked, bending down until his eyes were level with hers, so she could not mistake the depth of his anger, "The Twins have never fallen before, and even if I succeed where all others have failed, House Stark will always rule Winterfell, which is as it should be."
Daenerys could not keep the smug tone from her voice as she replied, "And you shall be Lord Stark."
"Pah!" he scoffed, "And lambs will become wolves."
"You are quick to dismiss my offer Gendry, but if you had pondered this as long as I have, you would see that my plan is perfect; you need a name and Winterfell needs a Lord."
The flame of his ambition, all but extinguished by Edric's appointment earlier, began to flicker anew. Gendry inclined his head slightly, intrigued by her scheme despite himself. That was all the encouragement Daenerys needed to continue, "Arya Stark is heir to the North and she needs to make a strong alliance to help her hold Winterfell. Even as we speak, the Ironborn plot to retake Winterfell by force, the Boltons and the Karstarks plan a much more insidious takeover by marriage and the Others do not care who holds Winterfell as long as they are dead. How can a young girl hope to hold out against all of that … and me of course?" Daenerys added with a wicked, throaty chuckle.
Gendry ignored that last threat. If the Queen did indeed intend to gift him Winterfell, it would be on condition he held it for her and swore fealty to the Iron Throne. Arya would be safe from the Dragon Queen if he was by her side. However, the other perils Daenerys listed were all too real. Gendry had heard what the Ironborn and the Boltons had done to Winterfell at the start of the war and the thought of Arya facing that on her own made his blood turn to ice in his veins and that was before he thought of her married off to a treacherous Bolton or a bloody Karstark.
Over his dead body would any of them claim his Arya, which, if Daenerys had her way, might be exactly how it happened.
"You think I can defeat the Freys and that I'll hold Winterfell for you?" he asked, not quite believing he was giving her scheme credence by even considering it.
"I know you can and you will. There is none better suited to this task than you. You have never lost a battle yet and you will win the Northmen's respect if you defeat the Freys. The Northerners still crave revenge for the Red Wedding. Avenge Robb Stark and they will love you for that alone. Wed the girl and your position as Lord of Winterfell will be unassailable."
Daenerys looked immensely smug and Gendry found himself wondering how long she had been planning this. Was it true she had never considered him for Storm's End? That she had kept him in the dark while planning this from the outset? Knowing he had been used should have made his anger burn even more fiercely, but yet . . . if he could win Arya Stark with Winterfell and a title thrown into the bargain, then perhaps the cost to his pride was worth paying.
"I have no one else who can do this for me Gendry. There can never be peace if the Freys hold the crossing," Daenerys pleaded, changing tack, trying to appeal to his love for and loyalty to Westeros itself. But his eyes had been well and truly opened to her manipulative ways.
"Do it yourself then," he said contemptuously, "The Freys aren't fire proof."
"True, but neither are the Twins. If I loose my Dragons on the Freys, I destroy the crossing. If I destroy the bridge across the Trident, I isolate the North and that is the last thing I want. Besides, I cannot risk leaving King's Landing until my reign is secure," she pleaded, taking his hand in hers. He flinched at the unwanted contact. It reminded him how small and delicate she was. On the outside.
"There is no one else I can send. The Northmen will accept Robert's bastard over Aegon or, Gods forbid, Jaime and there is too much division amongst them for agreement on one of their own to lead them. Without the strength of Winterfell to bind them together, the North is just a collection of rival clans with no common purpose. Take the Twins and you will galvanise the North behind you. They will love you for it, even before you wed the girl and take her name. Think on it Gendry - your sons and daughters will be the heirs to the North."
Dare he hope what Daenerys promised might come to pass? So many obstacles stood in his way; the Freys, the Trident itself, the impregnable fortress of Winterfell and Sansa Stark.
"What of the elder sister? Surely she must inherit Winterfell before the younger?"
"Leave Lady Sansa to me. She will not stand in your way. I already have another purpose for her."
For the first time, Gendry felt a stab of dislike for Daenerys. Before today he had admired her, perhaps feared her a little, but the smug satisfaction on Daenerys' face as she crowed her satisfaction at having manipulated Sansa Stark out of the way stung him unexpectedly. Arya's elder sister was nothing to him. Yet. But the thought of her being used to suit Daenerys' plans twisted something in his gut. The Dragon Queen thought to use him, but this time he would grab what he wanted and once he held it, nothing would wrest it away from him. Not even Daenerys and her Dragons.
Keeping his expression neutral and his voice bland to hide the growing excitement he felt, he said, "You seem to have planned this well."
"Have you ever known me to be anything other than thorough?" she said, with a smile Gendry had once thought of as innocent.
He shook his head. It was obvious the Dragon Queen had laid plans for this long before Gendry had begun to hope the Stormlands might be his. He was now beginning to see Daenerys not as a Dragon, but as a beautiful, deadly, spider at the centre of a very intricate web.
But if her schemes suited him, then what had he to lose? He had nothing to his bastard name, save his weapons, his horse and the loyalty of the men who followed him into battle. Once he crossed the Trident, there was nothing and no one in Westeros who could prevent him taking what he wanted.
But Gendry had one final question, one that had been keeping him awake for years, "What if Arya Stark will not have me? I am just a no name bastard after all."
"Oh, she will have you," Daenerys purred, "I shall see to it. Besides, what woman would not want you? Even Queens are not immune to your charms."
Gendry did not miss the sarcasm and the edge of bitterness in the Queen's voice. So his rejecting her advances still rankled Daenerys after all. However her irritation with him was fleeting and she was immediately back to the business at hand.
"To ensure all goes to plan, I'll send Tyrion Lannister with you. You are my best Commander Gendry, but you are no diplomat."
Gendry snorted. "And your true purpose in sending him is to aid me, to keep an eye on me or because you want rid of him?"
Daenerys shrugged and gave him another sly smile, "What do you think?"
Tyrion was regarded by those who mattered, to be the smartest man in Westeros and in the Game of Thrones, knowledge was power. Gendry had no doubt the Queen wanted the imp out of the Red Keep for that reason alone. Whatever her reason, Gendry instantly decided it could only be to his advantage to have Tyrion by his side.
"I think it would be diplomatic of me to keep my opinion to myself," he smirked.
Daenerys seemed amused by his answer, for she grinned broadly.
"So tell me Gendry, do you accept my offer of Winterfell, The North and Arya Stark?"
He hesitated for a mere moment. "Aye."
Daenerys smiled slowly, her lilac eyes glittering, "There is one more thing . . ."
Gendry narrowed his eyes and curled his lip. He should have known there would be more. Daenerys always wanted more.
"The North will not endure unless the Others are defeated. Perhaps even the South is not safe. The Night's Watch still struggle against them at The Wall and I mean to aid them all I can. For the sake of the realm, I am sending supplies and I am sending you."
"Me?" Gendry repeated incredulously. Was their no end to Daenerys' demands on him?
"I think you and Jon Snow will have much in common . . ."
"You mean we're both bastards who have armies at our command, but have nothing else to show for our efforts; not even a name," Gendry said bitterly.
Daenerys gave an exasperated sigh, "No. I meant you will have a common purpose in protecting Winterfell and Arya Stark."
"So I am to win two un-winnable battles before I can claim my prize?"
"But what a prize it will be," the Queen murmured seductively.
Gendry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. If he succeeded, Arya and all she brought to their marriage would be his. If he failed? Well . . . every man had to die sometime.
Gendry snapped his eyes open and growled, "How soon can I leave?"
The Queen purred with delight, but she was no longer of any interest to him. His mind was already fixed on another woman, far to the North. Daenerys Targaryen was part of his past and Arya Stark was his future. Arya would be his or he would die fighting for the only woman he had ever loved. That sounded like a fair bargain to a no name bastard.
-o-
Daenerys watched her bastard Commander's broad back as he strode towards the doors. With Tyrion's mastery of tactics and Gendry's gift for warfare, the two of them had as great a chance of taking the Twins as she could give them. Holding The Wall was another matter entirely, but there was no more she could do at the moment. She could not leave King's Landing, until her grip on the Iron Throne was secure and if she could not leave King's Landing, then neither could her Dragons. It could be months, if not years from now before she could fly to Jon Snow's aid.
As one of her Queen's Guards opened the doors, she gave him the order that Gendry was to be allowed safe passage and that no one was to enter the hall until she gave word. With a bow, the white cloak acknowledged her command.
Once the great doors were safely closed, she intended to call out to the man hidden behind the Iron Throne to reveal himself, but a warm hand brushing her shoulder confirmed her Faceless Man had anticipated her thoughts once again. He swept her hair over her shoulder and trailed soft kisses over the nape of her neck as she relaxed against his touch.
"Did you see how Gendry flinched when I mention his heart's desire?" Daenerys asked on a moan as shivers of anticipation and desire radiated up and down her spine.
"This man told the Queen so," the Assassin whispered against her neck, his breath hot and enticing.
"I know you did Jaqen, but I'm still not sure that I trust you."
He made no reply, but resumed his kisses. Daenerys could tell he was smiling as his lips feathered her nape.
"Did you take the Stark girl as your lover in Braavos?"
Jaqen stilled behind her and Daenerys wondered if he would refuse to answer her question. But after a long moment he replied, "No, although that girl was . . . receptive to this man's charms."
Daenerys felt him smile again. She wondered if she would have been jealous, if Jaqen and Arya Stark had been lovers. Daenerys had heard the girl was very beautiful.
"So if she wanted you, why didn't you take her? I'm sure she wouldn't have regretted it."
Daenerys had no doubt Jaqen would please any woman in bed. He was one of the best she had ever had and she had many.
He gave an uncharacteristic sigh and again Daenerys wondered if he would refuse to answer. Then slowly he replied, "This man would have been her first and it did not seem . . . right."
So the Faceless Man had a conscience. It surprised Daenerys that a hired killer would care about what was right and what was wrong. But Arya Stark had been one of Jaqen's kind too. Perhaps they had their own code of ethics. Daenerys had heard of honour amongst thieves, although she had seen little evidence of it. Still, she filed that piece of information away for future use. Who knew when Jaqen having a conscience might come in useful?
Taking the Assassin as lover had no doubt been foolish, but there was a certain something about him that Daenerys had been unable to resist. Perhaps it was the danger he represented or the fact that she was not quite sure where his loyalties lay, that thrilled her. Very little else did these days.
As far as she knew, the Guild was not charging her any extra for his personal services, although she wondered if they knew. Was Jaqen obliged to report everything back to the House of Black and White? Perhaps she would receive an additional account for his sexual services at the end of it. Just then, he licked the side of her neck, dragging his tongue up and around her ear, ending with a little nip on her lobe. It was just the right side of painful and sent jolts of pleasure shooting through her. With a sigh of longing, she realised that, whatever the cost, he was worth it. He was a consummate lover and, with his ability to change his appearance at will, it was akin to having many lovers in one. Surely she would never grow bored of that and the opportunity of their being alone in the throne room was not to be wasted.
"We will not be disturbed and there is something I want you to do for me."
"Anything for the Dragon Queen," he murmured as his kisses trailed lower and his hands, his killer's hands, trailed down the swell of her hips and over the curve of her bottom to caress her thighs. Oh, but he was good and the groan of need that escaped her lips was entirely genuine.
"I always hoped I would wed and bed a Targaryen. Would any of your faces fulfil that fantasy?"
He laughed softly and whispered against her ear, "This man can give the Queen her heart's desire."
Daenerys immediately missed his warmth as he pulled away. After giving him a moment to change his face, she turned around. A man with white blond hair and cruel, purple eyes stood in front of her. From a distance he could have been mistaken for her brother Viserys, but Daenerys tried to smile anyway.
Being careful not to let her disappointment show, Daenerys took Jaqen's hand and led him to the foot of the Iron Throne.
"You go first. It is particularly uncomfortable and I'd prefer to be on top."
With a wicked, lecherous smile, Jaqen or whatever he called himself now, started up the steep steps. Watching him ascend, Daenerys thought on the Targaryen she really wanted; her heart's true desire. They said he was tall, with curling brown hair and eyes so dark as to be almost black. His reputation as Commander of the Night's Watch and as man intrigued her to the point that she knew no one else would satisfy her until she had him. It was predetermined, of that she had no doubt. But the time was not yet right.
Until it was, she would have to make do with sending Gendry to The Wall and with Jaqen between her thighs.
Perhaps it was better the Assassin knew nothing of her heart's true desire. Jaqen was useful in many ways; it was he who had known of Gendry's infatuation with Arya Stark and Daenerys had used that to push Gendry in the direction she needed him to go. But only a fool would trust a Faceless Man.
Daenerys instinctively knew she would trust Jon Targaryen. Although the time was not right, someday she would have him. With that wish on her lips, Daenerys began climbing the steps of the Iron Throne where the mummer's Dragon waited for her.
-o-
Hope that piqued your interest.
Arya's next and I'm aiming for a chapter every few days until it's done.