A Test of Mettle
Daenerys
"Urgh, I'm exhausted," Daenerys complained, collapsing down on a chair in the Winterfell Guest House and pulling off the head scarf which had been covering her distinctive silver hair. "My feet are so sore."
"Now you see what the rest of us have to deal with, your Grace," Tyrion countered. "Those of us who can't ride around everywhere on a dragon."
"Drogon is most put out," she said. "He's out in that Wolfswood complaining about the cold and the strange northern trees, and is seriously contemplating direwolf for supper."
"I'd dissuade him, if I were you," Tyrion said with a grin. "It would not help our negotiations if he ate one of the Starks' Familiars."
She rolled her eyes. "I know, and he wouldn't attack a bonded animal anyway. He's just unhappy about their howling, I think, as well as grumbling about 'the wrong blood'?"
Tyrion nodded. "Familiars often find it hard to adapt to a new environment, especially one that is so different from where they come from."
She nodded. "That is true."
"So, what is your opinion of our hosts?" Tyrion asked.
"A dour, sombre lot," she replied, stretching herself back on the chair. "Although I'm mildly impressed with Sansa Stark. Is it a requirement nowadays for queens to have unusual coloured hair, do you think?"
He laughed. "Quite a rainbow the three of you make; red, yellow and silver."
"Huh. What about you, Tyrion? What did you think of them? They did seem especially suspicious of us."
"Well, I've met many of them before, of course, but northerners have always been historically wary of those from the south and then, of course, my dear family had to make matters even worse. How we will ever get the realm to reunite now … I have no idea."
Dany shrugged, exhaustion warring with frustration. "Perhaps we should tell them who I am then? If they learn of my history and what I discovered in Essos, it might help them to trust us."
He shook his head. "You're still a southerner and, unfortunately, my sister's lies regarding your disappearance had enough truth in them to be harmful to our cause. Your dragons' appearance at the battle certainly got the Starks' attention but I'm curious as to what their thoughts are now two years after the fact."
She nodded, thoughtfully. "So was that what you were talking about with that soldier?"
"Soldier?"
"The one who escorted us over."
He regarded her closely, his eyes sparkling. "The one you were flirting with?"
"I was not!"
Tyrion grinned. "His name is Jon Snow and he's Ned Stark's bastard."
"Oh."
Perhaps that was why he seemed familiar. She had met his brother at school, after all. Then she winced, thinking about how she had spoken to the man out there and realising that, even as a bastard, his status was considerably higher than the mere foot soldier she had believed him to be.
"I do not know this word," Grey Worm said then. "Bastard?"
"Yeah, not a concept that is understood in Essos," Dany said. "They have formal marriages here in Westeros you see and any child who is not born within this marriage is considered to be of far lower status. They're even given the name of their region rather than that of their parents'. Snow, you see. Of the north."
"That is … most odd."
"From what I understand, Jon was treated far better than many bastards in Westeros," Tyrion continued, "but the boy certainly has had an interesting history. I did not actually see him fight during the Battle for the Dawn but I ... heard stories."
"Oh?" Daenerys asked.
Tyrion turned and smirked at her. "Why all these questions about Jon Snow?"
She pulled a face. "I was just trying to figure out why only he escorted us over. It seemed a bit of a big responsibility for someone so young, that's all."
"Yes, of course that's the reason," Tyrion said, knowingly. "Nothing at all to do with being handsome and brooding and mysterious."
Next to her Missandei giggled and Dany glared, first at her friend and then at Tyrion. "Am I not allowed to be curious?"
"Certainly, but please try not to get distracted. The Starks once had a reputation for being soft and easily manipulated but my family's determination to bring them to heel ended up having the opposite effect. Father, mother, eldest and youngest brother all killed directly or indirectly by Lannisters and what was the result of that? A powerful family full of talented Riders who played key roles in the Battle for the Dawn."
Dany scoffed. "My dragons were the deciding factor in that war."
"That may be true, but we're keeping that information to ourselves for now, remember?"
She sighed. "Yeah, I know. Low profile."
"Good," Tyrion said. "I promise it won't be for long but let's start talking about tomorrow's meeting and what we need to say to help convince these stubborn Starks to join our cause."
~o~0~o~
"Perhaps you shouldn't come along today," Tyrion suggested to Daenerys the following morning as they all finished their food.
"That is not going to happen," she countered. "I am actually the one in charge here, in case you've forgotten, and so I need to see and hear all of this for myself."
"I'll pay particular attention to her head scarf, Lord Tyrion," Missandei reassured him. No one will be able to see her hair, I promise."
"Very well. Just three to attend this meeting plus one guard, Queen Sansa said, which means you, me and Varys then, with Grey Worm?"
Daenerys nodded her agreement, quickly turning back towards her friend so she could make the final adjustments to her outfit. When she'd been in Westeros as a girl she had usually worn trousers, as it was considerably more practical for clambering onto her beloved Drogon - no bigger than a horse in those days - or for running around with friends. She would wear dresses for special occasions back then but, whilst in exile in Essos, she had fully embraced her feminine side; delighting in the silks and ribbons and enjoying just how much attention her maturing female figure had been able to get her.
But now she was back in plain trousers and shirt, well covered by a large, nondescript beige wrap-around cloak and with her hair carefully hidden under a matching headscarf. Fairly tanned after years spend overseas, it was really only her eyes that would mark her out as different from most of those she was currently travelling with.
Jon Snow met them at the front door of the Guest House again, giving Tyrion a nod and a half-smile of acknowledgement, his gaze skimmed quickly over Varys and Grey Worm before finally landing on her. His dark eyes held hers again and Dany felt both amusement at the young man's obvious attraction to her and a deep thrill as her own body responded in kind. Tyrion had not been wrong, he was incredibly handsome with dark eyes and dark hair which fell in curls to his neck and she was quite unable to prevent herself from staring back. Finally he appeared to shake himself, turning to lead the small party across the courtyard and Dany struggled to move her gaze away as she admired his elegant stride across the courtyard. Then they were back into the main Keep and up one flight of spiral stairs before their escort opened an age-darkened, wooden door and escorted them into a medium sized room where the Starks were waiting for them around a sturdy table. Greyworm took his silent place on one side of the door and Jon, with a quick glance at the darker man, mirrored him on the other.
Sansa was the tallest of those now around the table although Dany didn't feel as small as she usually did, with both Tyrion and Arya shorter and Bran having remained seated. It was only now she was closer that she saw that the young man's chair had wheels and guessed that he couldn't walk. She had a flash of memory then - of something Robb had said about his brother when they were studying at the Citadel together - but it was far too long ago and she had to admit that she hadn't been paying that much attention at the time.
Sansa and Tyrion then made the introductions with Dany having decided to take Missandei's name and play the part of scribe here, giving her the excuse to not openly contribute to the discussions and keep her head down.
"So, Lord Tyrion, please tell us more about why you have come all this way to visit us," Sansa asked in a far more polite tone than the one she'd used yesterday. "Because I'm quite sure it wasn't for our climate."
He smiled politely at the light-hearted comment. "To seek an alliance, as I said before, your Grace, and to join you in any campaign you may wish to wage on the south."
Arya scoffed. "You can't possibly expect us to believe and trust you so quickly that we would admit to such a thing at this point in time."
Tryion frowned slightly. "You have been loudly claiming your independence for years now and so it is generally assumed that such a conflict is inevitable."
"Those in the south may very well believe that," Sansa said, "but they have been misinformed. We have no desire to march on the capital, Lord Tyrion. Cersei is welcome to King's Landing and the Citadel. We want only to be left alone."
"And do what?" Tyrion asked
"Live," Sansa replied. "Just that. Live our lives without interference from the south. Nothing more."
Dany frowned, jotting down a couple of questions as she tried to re-evaluate everything she thought she knew about the north. All she had heard growing up was of how such rebels threatened everything the south held dear - bearded barbarians making war for the sake of it. Uncouth, uncivilised. This was the main reason she had come up here, assuming them to be enthusiastic and war-hungry allies for her cause and so Sansa's comment here was confusing and completely unexpected.
"But what of Old Town?" Tyrion asked. "What of the Citadel? How can you turn your back on your fellow Riders' plight?"
Sansa frowned, glancing briefly at her siblings. "I am the only one here who trained in Old Town and that education was cut short due to the death of my Familiar."
"I understand," Tyrion said gently. "You were not able to connect to another animal afterwards?"
"No, I am a Sleeper," she confirmed. "As is your sister, I understand?"
"Yes, and so I have small understanding of how upsetting that can be."
The northern queen's expression hardened. "No-one can truly understand unless they have experienced it, Lord Tyrion, but my siblings, you see, had no need to travel south for their training."
"Yes, I hear you are a rare Warg," Tyrion said, turning his attention to Bran. "A child Rider with no need to be trained at all?"
"It is true I had a natural talent," the young man replied, "although I did have training to realise my full potential, of course."
"From Wildlings?"
"Yes."
"They have knowledge that has been lost to the Citadel," Arya explained, "and so, once my father fully understood the corruption in Old Town and the way the young Riders were being used down there, he ensured that I was sent elsewhere to train too."
"Not north of the Wall?"
She shook her head. "No, I studied in Bravos."
Tyrion rolled his eyes on hearing this and Daenerys winced at both her Hand's reaction and at the Starks' silent response to it. She too had grown up with the idea that the Citadel was the only true place to study the Art but her time spent with Riders in Essos had helped her understand that she had been misled about this as well. The so-called primitive cultures had knowledge that even a natural born Warg like herself had been stunned by. If Bran and Arya had had that sort of training then perhaps the Starks really were worthy allies for her.
"So you see, we have no need to concern ourselves with the south," Sansa continued. "Not now we have full control of the north and the threat from the Night King is over."
Tyrion nodded. "I see, yes, and I can hardly blame you for wanting peace and quiet after everything you've been through. Nice and safe and never mind the suffering of the small folk down south?"
Sansa stood up abruptly, her arms braced on the table and Dany became aware of a movement out of the corner of her eye, turning her head slightly to see that Jon had moved forwards too, a hand on the white pommel of his sword and his dark eyes blazing. The shudder that ran through her body on seeing his glare was not entirely due to fear.
"That is unfair!" The queen's eyes flashed and the fact she did not raise her voice did little to hide her anger. "You know what we have suffered. What we have lost. You more than anyone whose family was responsible for most of it."
Tyrion raised his hands. "A low blow and I sincerely apologise for it. As a tutor at the Citadel the loss of so many young lives affected me greatly. Lives that were supposedly mine to nurture and protect so you'll forgive me if I get a little emotional about such things too. I can never forgive my sister for what she did that day and will do everything in my power to ensure that her power is taken away so she can no longer do harm to Riders, small folk or anyone else who disagrees with her point of view."
Sansa stared at him for a long time before finally nodding and sitting back down. "I accept your apology. The history our two families have with each other makes it hard for us to fully trust one another, I know." Daenerys breathed out.
"So, it was your intention to come here and what, Lord Tyrion?" Arya asked. "You want us to help wage war on your sister? How? We do not have the numbers for such a battle. We lost a lot of fighters in the Battle for the Dawn and many who did survive were, like yourself, here as temporary allies and with no intention to fight against Cersei."
"Your numbers are relatively small, it's true," he agreed, "but I have other … alliances that can help with that. Mostly I just wished to come here to get a measure of the northern feeling towards the south and see if you would play some small part in our campaign, just as we did for yours."
"What other alliances?" Arya asked.
Tyrion laughed. "Not so fast, little wolf. We don't fully trust each other yet, remember?"
"You certainly have me intrigued," Sansa admitted, "but it looks like we all need rather more assurances from one another before we can continue with these discussions." She stood, nodding. "Your people are free to move around the castle, Lord Tyrion but I ask that you all stay within the walls during your visit and keep your Familars outside. Bran is a powerful Warg, as you know, and so will be aware if any Rider or animal breaks that restriction."
Tyrion lowered himself off the chair to the floor and Dany and Varys stood, following his lead. "As you say, your Grace. I thank you for your continued hospitality."
"Until tomorrow morning then."
Despite the change of rules, Jon started to walk back with them again, although the young man's demeanour did seem rather more relaxed as he exchanged a few words with Tyrion, their voices far too quiet and low for Dany to hear. Once the Guest House came into view, he turned to face the way he came, ready to head back and she raised her head, unable to resist catching his eye again. Tyrion saw the move and rolled his eyes dramatically before heading back to their accommodation, whilst Grey Worm paused briefly, obviously torn as to whether he should stay close to protect her. Daenerys subtly shook her head at him, not wanting attention drawn to her, and then turned back to face Jon.
He looked at her curiously. "Yes?"
"Attending an important meeting? Escorting a whole foreign party with no back up?"
He stared at her quizzically. "I hold the Starks' trust in such matters."
"Do you?"
He frowned. "What about you? You sound Westerosi, despite your clothes and companions. I wonder how you come to be here with Lord Tyrion and his … interesting little following."
"Interesting?" She smiled. "Are we?"
He smirked slightly. "I'd say so."
"I have lived some years in Essos but, you're right, I did grow up over here."
"Whereabouts?"
"I was born on Dragonstone, in fact."
"Oh? I see."
There was a long pause and yet Jon's gaze never left hers and she seemed quite unable to take her eyes off him either. She had no idea why she found this man quite so fascinating. A bastard soldier. No-one of importance and yet …
"Did you-"
"I just-"
They both spoke at the same time and then smiled slightly. Daenerys nodded at him. "Go ahead."
"You said before that I seemed familiar and yet you've never been this far north before?" he asked.
"You feel like you recognise me too?" He nodded. "I haven't and have you travelled south?"
"No further than the Neck," he replied.
When Tyrion had explained that Jon was related to the Starks, Dany had assumed she had recognised something of Robb in the young man but, now she was closer, she realised there was little in his looks to connect him with his half-brother. And then she remembered what her Hand had said about the family having many skilled Riders in it and wondered if that might answer her question. She knew how to tell, of course, and her own very great talent would help keep her ability hidden from him. A gamble, perhaps, but worth if if she could find out the truth of the matter.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she asked, holding out her hand whilst trying hard to keep her face as relaxed as possible.
"Jon Snow," he said, automatically returning the gesture.
Then their hands made contact and Daenerys' whole world was turned upside down.
She was used to the subtle sensation of touching another Rider. It was a small thing, a mere tickle, accompanied by the faintest whisper deep in ones mind, but she had never experienced anything like this before; the rush of warmth through her hand, a roar of sound like a wave crashing over her mind, and a surge through her body that felt almost sexual. She reeled on the spot, her hand still held in Jon's and he was gaping at her, pupils so wide that his eyes appeared black, his breathing ragged.
"It's you," he gasped. "I … know you, I …" He swallowed hard and looked down at his hand, still holding hers, frowning at it.
Daenerys might not have ever experienced this before but she instinctively understood what it meant. He wasn't just a Rider, he was another rare Warg like her. His expression as he gazed at her was now half wonder and half fear and it was only then that Dany realised what her curiosity had cost her cause. They had both been trying to hide what they were from the other side during these early negotiations and now both of their covers had been blown. Jon Snow was not just some bastard turned soldier and he now knew that she was considerably more than some ragged refugee.
'It's you,' he had said. Had he guessed who she was or was it more than that? She blinked as she remembered the vague sense of the battle she had received through Drogon two years ago. A strong Rider who had had the gall to direct her Familiar and had even managed to touch Rhaegal's mind. Was this him?
They hadn't moved. Dany had no idea how long the two of them had been standing there in the the middle of the courtyard, frozen in the act of a hand shake that had not even been started. The sensations had not lessened and she realised that she did not want to let go of his hand because it would mean the loss of this strange warmth, this delightful connection, this feeling of floating on water and … something else. Something thrilling.
When Jon did start to slowly pull away Dany opened her fingers wide in an attempt to hold onto the sensation for as long as she was able, he copied her and, before she had realised what was happening, they had closed their hands around each other again, fingers now entwined. People were approaching and so Jon moved closer, lowering their joined hands so their intimacy was not quite so obvious to any who might be looking their way.
"This is madness," he said, still frowning at their hands as if wondering why they were still joined.
"Yes," she agreed, her voice a whisper.
"So, what now?"
She shook her head. "We … we should go."
Jon looked down at their hands and swallowed hard. "Aye." And yet he made no further move to untangle their fingers.
She frowned. "I should never have offered my hand."
"So, why did you?"
"Curiosity?"
"And now?"
She found her resolve then, looking back at those eyes, and willing herself not to melt into them. She lifted her chin defiantly. "Now I need to go back and talk to Tyrion about this."
His soft gaze hardened abruptly. "Go on then. I'd better get back to my siblings."
She glared at Jon in return, wondering if there was any way to persuade him to keep her secret. She briefly debated using this strange attraction as a means of seducing him but had no idea of how to go about such a thing. This connection they shared was powerful, it was true, but she did not know this man nor have any idea about what motivated him or who he really was. Her gaze dropped briefly from his eyes to his lips and she licked her own as she suddenly, inexplicably, wondered what it might feel like to kiss him.
"Gods, don't do that," he complained, finally pulling his hand out of hers, and any brief victory she felt on having managed to so easily unnerve him disappeared as a wave of disappointment overcame her at the loss of his touch.
Jon hadn't even walked away from her, his gaze still on her and her own grief and frustration reflected in his eyes too. The pair continued to stare at each other for a long time before he finally managed to find the will to move, nodding his head in an almost bow before turning to stride away and Dany's gaze followed him, her heartbeat now pounding in her ears.
Jon Snow had just made her whole Winterfell campaign considerably more complicated.
~o~0~o~
A/N:Thank you for your lovely early responses on this. I was so nervous about sharing this AU last weekend and so it was such a relief to know so many of you liked it.
I've had this week off work and have done a load of writing on this one so am now very comfortably ahead. As usual I will happily respond to any comments/questions asked, although, yes, I do love to keep my secrets. Chapter titles and posting schedule are up on my profile. AU information is listed at the end of chapter 1
I started to draw a book cover for this but the writing took over and it's not ready yet. Hopefully soon.
