Hey all! Thank you so much for all those who reviewed, followed and favourited after the first chapter. It means the world to me.
Now that the context has been set for this next step in the relationship, we are veering from what has happened in the show (I'm assuming cause nothing else it out yet) and into what I'm hoping will develop. I'm not sure whether I'm going to take this story down the more adult route, as tumblr is awash with theories of #boatsex, but I ain't gonna lie, that would be amazing for these two.
For now, we have Daenerys tackling her feelings for Jon on a more introspective level as well as dealing with a bit of confrontation from Tyrion. I hope you guys enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously.
The Deep End - Chapter 2
Several days had passed since last speaking with Jon and Daenerys was having trouble keeping their conversation from her mind. The journey from Eastwatch back to Dragonstone had been relatively short and uneventful, and she had been quick to resume her duties upon arrival. After hearing how about the events beyond the Wall, Tyrion had been hesitant to discuss strategy so soon, but the Queen's fierce determination had seem to double and one did not get in the way of such fire.
Daenerys stood in the War room of Dragonstone, her fingers delicately tracing the magnificently carved table. She examined the smooth surface of the hills and valleys, the jagged edges of the riverbeds and mountains, her pointer finger gently tracing the winding roads of Westeros until she came upon the Stark wolfs head, this one unique from the others. Made of white bone, much like the pommel of Jon's sword, it stood next her three headed Dragon, hovering over the island of Dragonstone. She clutched it closely, her thumb feeling the prick of the tiny teeth carved into the edges of the direwolf mouth. Though barely bigger than her palm, the statuette was fierce in its appearance, yet held a quiet regality, much like the man it represented. Sighing, she placed it once more upon the table, gathering her silver chalice and taking a deep sip of the crimson Dornish wine. She strolled passed the high backed, ornate chairs, beyond the massive stone dragon head etched into the wall, and settled in front of the balcony that overlooked the island's coastal landscape. Taking another sip of wine, she let the cool ocean breeze calm her reddening cheeks. She silently hoped one of the two would be able to help her. Either the wine would allow for escape from such dangerous thoughts, or the wind would offer clarity and a sense of peace from the storm that raged within her soul.
It was not meant to feel this bad, to be so hard. Unable to face him, Daenerys had not returned to his cabin aboard the boat, and had avoided his chambers since their return. Fortunately, he was still recovering and was not well enough yet to join them at their small council meetings. She had hoped that throwing herself into the matters at hand would distract her from what was going on inside, but too often she found herself missing snippets of conversation, unable to follow what Tyrion or Varys were suggesting. She knew her Hand was worried, he had made that very clear on multiple occasions, but she had done well to fend him off. The death of Viserion still weighed heavily upon her, and it was enough to keep unwanted prying at bay for now.
Sighing, she drained the remains of her cup, walking back to the hearth to refill it once more. It was unlike her to drink so much. She had eaten very little today, a small plate of fruit and unleavened bread to break her fast and some cold chicken and cheese some hours ago, upon the instance of Missandei, who had been watching her Khaleesi closely. She closed her eyes as the liquid warmed her belly, dulling her senses to a soft fuzz.
As she returned to her previous position on the balcony, there came a soft knock upon the door, followed by the unmistakable footsteps of her Hand. "Surely by now you know how a door works? One does not enter unless called in." she said coolly.
"Forgive me your Grace, but I felt it was important to speak with you."
She turned and eyed him up, his short stature remaining rigid, as if poised to bear an oncoming attack. His hands told another story however, his fingers nervously spinning the lion head ring upon his thumb. His eyes studied hers from behind his curtain of golden curls, noting the glass in her hand and the half empty flagon upon the table. "Well? What is it?" she asked, impatience clear in her voice. She was tired, and didn't have the energy to go through another of Tyrion's suggestions on how to trap Cersei.
"What happened between you and Jon Snow?" he asked, stepping farther into the room to see her better. Her eyes widened at the bluntness of the question before narrowing, the usual deep blue of her gaze now taking on a grey, steal like hue.
"What are you getting at Tyrion?" she asked, her tone as sharp as a Valerian steal.
Knowing he was treading on a very thin line, Tyrion paused a moment, reconsidering his initial approach. Gathering his courage, he continued. "He keeps asking for you. Asking if you're alright. I know I was not there when you went beyond the wall, but I know enough. You lost one of your dragons, your children, and you almost lost him. I told you before how he sees you. Those longing glances of his are not just for political purpose and, I believe he is not alone in his affections. A woman such as yourself does not go riding off with three dragons in tow just to save any old man. " Daenerys' stature softened, but she kept her eyes upon the navy and grey sea that sloshed against the rocks below her.
"If I am wrong, which we both know I can be from time to time, then I beg you your Grace, show the poor man some mercy. You have agreed to fight alongside him against the White Walkers and we are negotiating temporary peace with Cersei. That is all it needs to be. Better men than me have fallen for you and worship all that you stand for, but Jon Snow is not like other men. He deserves more."
She knew he was right, he usually was. She had picked him to be her Hand for such reasons. It wasn't fair to Jon, not after he had looked at her like that, after he had risked his life for their cause. She needed to take a stand, one way or another, no matter how much the thought terrified her.
She gripped the rails of the balcony nervously, uttering the next words barely above a whisper. "And what if you are right? What if I do feel the same for him? What will you have me do then?"
Tyrion smiled softly, doing his best to sound reassuring. "Then we seize such an opportunity and use it to our advantage."
Curious at his meaning, she arched a dark brow, finally turning towards him, opening herself to his suggestion. His smile grew beneath his beard, satisfied that he had seemed to bridge some sort of gap between them. Their time together had been spent mostly on political strategy and the managing of her Kingdoms in the East. It was rare they discussed such, personal matters. " He is the King in North, and you, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. You want the Iron Throne and the only two sides standing in your way are Cersei and the North. Once the Walkers are gone and things have settled down, where do you think allegiances will fall?"
"Jon would never side with Cersei." she almost snapped, surprised at her conviction on the matter.
Tyrion nodded. "I agree. You'd have to be just as mad as she is to do so. Jon would never betray his people, but the same is not so certain about his men. Like you, he has a loyal following, but this was not always the case." She thought of the scars that marred his chest. The flesh deep red, puckered where the blades had entered his body, forever reminding him of the betrayal he once faced. "Marry Jon and legitimize his name and position in the North. Solidify your promise with a maester's words and a simple ceremony."
"How would marriage solve such a dilemma?"
"Offer the North a sense of independence, or sort of co-regency. You would be the Queen in name and power, but he would sit beside you, as King and Warden of the North. Your union would unite the Kingdom and placate the Northerner's pride. They would still have a man they trust upon the throne, to guide and to rule, not some foreign monarch they know or care little about."
His words were harsh, but he spoke with great logic. Jon had said as much. Before he was willing to bend the knee he had made it very clear that the North remembers, and winning their allegiances would not be easy. He had assured her that they would come to see her for what she truly was, but perhaps, their union would help such a transition take place. She had seen how few men bowed to her after her speech at Blackwater Reach. The people of Westeros wanted more from their monarch, but were skeptical such possibility existed. While her pride wanted the throne for herself, she knew Jon would make a wise and just partner. Their added feelings for one another would only serve to sweeten the deal.
"Very well. How do you propose we set up such an arrangement?"
"Leave that to me your Grace. You have more important matters to attend to."
She looked at the imp, confused. "Such as?"
"Convincing the bastard King that you do indeed, love him." he replied, giving her a knowing look.
She shot him a dirty look, but it was all play. He grinned devilishly before taking is exit, leaving the young Queen to contemplate her own strategy.
How in the hell was she going to do that?