Yah, not going to lie, I have super mixed feeling about this chapter. I hope I was able to capture Davos well enough, as I didn't take the time to study his speech patterns with Jon like I did Tyrion and Dany.
Thank you to everyone who has been reading reviewing, following and/or favouriting this story. It has been a major ego boost when I needed it the most.
Pleas let me know what you think.
The Deep End - Chapter 3
Daenerys paced nervously up and down the stone corridor, her thumb fiddling with her fingers as she walked. She had been doing so for some time now, how long she was unsure. She kept going through what she wanted to say in her mind, like a athlete studying their playbook. Tyrion had left her a good hour or so ago to plan her and Jon's wedding and in all honesty, she was freaking out. Her emotions regarding the situation were overwhelming and now she was expected to convince Jon to go along with such a union when she had barely spoken to the man in days. Her mind kept flashing back to the look he had given her after he had conceded. His grip had been firm, yet soft, creating a sort of force field that drew her into him, getting lost in those dark brown eyes of his. He had been so earnest and raw, without actually saying the words, and she cursed him for it. For someone who came off as guarded, perhaps even a bit arrogant, he sure knew how to express himself when it counted. Now, it was her turn and she was desperate for things to work out.
She paused, hand reaching hesitantly towards the smooth iron handle of the door that led into his chambers. Would he even want to see me after how I've treated him? Yes, of course he will. After all, Tyrion said he'd been asking for me. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and opened the door, forgetting entirely to knock. She flounced into the room, ready to launch into her prepared speech only to stop immediately in her tracks. Her usually pale as milk skin turned a bright, cheery red as a mix of embarrassment and desire flooded her being. It seems Jon was now well enough to be out of bed, as he was standing with his back to her, pulling on his breeches, his bare bottom on full display. Hand still on the doorknob, she debated backing out of the room before he noticed, but by the time she had cleared the image of what else lay under the cloth, he was already speaking.
"Davos? Have you any..." he began, turning and fully expecting to see his Hand of the King at his door. Upon seeing Daenerys instead, it was Jon's turn to be embarrassed. "I...your Grace, I'm..forgive me." he mumbled, reaching for his shirt in an attempt to make himself more presentable.
"Don't..." said Dany, before she could think better of it. He looked back at her in shock, his hand still gripping the cotton tunic, but not drawing it any nearer. Impossibly, her already scarlet skin turned an even deeper red. "I'm mean...it's alright. I've seen men naked before, I'm sure you won't be the last. Don't feel the need to cover for the sake of my innocence." she said, attempting to to sound unaffected. Perhaps she had played it a bit too cool however, as Jon now held a rather dark look on his face.
He turned away from her, slipping the garment above his head and across his chest, shielding himself from her gaze. Excellent work Dany. You are supposed to be convincing this man you love him and you've just gone and implied that you want to see other men naked.
Keeping his back to her as he laced his breeches he asked her the rather obvious question. "Excuse me your Grace, but for what do I owe the pleasure?" the sentence itself sounded rather charming, but the edge in his tone spoke volumes.
"Jon..I.." she began, watching him stiffen at the use of his name rather than his title. She sighed, this was all getting out of hand far too quickly. "Do you...have any wine?"
Surprised once more, Jon turned to eye the young queen before him. He gestured to the table in the corner which held two glasses and a jug of pewter filled with deep, golden liquid. He studied her as she all but ran towards the drink, noting how her hand seemed to shake and how her teeth chewed at her bottom lip. She was clothed in a gown of dark purple, the shoulders pointed in their usual style, her three headed silver dragon broach holding a cloak of shimmering black across her back. Her silver hair lay in curls down her spine, arranged in only a few small braids along her skull. While normally artfully arranged, her curls seemed bent and misshapen, almost as if someone had been tugging on them. It seems Tyrion has been rubbing off on her in more ways than one. He thought as he observed her gulping down a hearty amount of sweet, Dornish white.
It had been days since he had any contact with her and now to have her in front of him he was unsure what to do with her. When she had left him, rather unsteadily, back on the boat, he was sure he had blown it; pushed too far. He had been so certain that she felt the same way. He had hoped to explain himself, apologise maybe, but she had never returned. She had left him there, bruised and unable to go after her, cursing himself and his foolish notions of love. Now here she stood, all shaky and uncertain. What was it she wanted to tell him? What had her on edge so?
Understanding that this was unlikely to be a short conversation, Jon lowered himself slowly back onto the bed, grunting softly as he did so. He did his best to arrange himself against the headboard, nestling a soft pillow between his back and the sturdy oak. Sighing, he allowed the uncomfortable throbbing in his body to simmer to a low ache, doing his best to ease the stiffness in his limbs.
Daenerys watched him, concern in her eyes. She had realized that he was still recovering, but she hadn't expected to see him so openly display his discomfort. As he leaned carefully forward to grab the blanket, she rushed over and did it herself, grasping the worn material and tucking it gingerly at his waist. She then rearranged the furs that lay at his feet, smoothing the ruffled fox until it lay flat.
He watched her as she did this, his face softening at the sight. A silver tendril of hair dropped over her shoulder as she neatened the blankets and the afternoon sun cast a soft glow upon her skin. She looked radiant. This woman will be the death of me. He thought. "Daenerys" he said, barely above a whisper.
Her cerulean eyes flicked up to his face, her hands pausing at their task. He gestured to the edge of his bed, inviting her to sit, which she did.
Right back where we started. she thought. He was impossibly close to her this way and she could feel the heat of his body radiating through the blankets. His hand was mere centimetres away from her own and she felt the urge to grasp it once more. Denying herself such pleasure, she brought them into her lap, grasping the rich fabric of her dress instead.
After a moment of silence, Jon could not wait any longer. It was clear Daenerys was distraught, and he could surmise the reason well enough. Now was his chance and he could not blow it. The future of his people, of all of them, relied upon it. While it would be difficult to conceal his feelings for her, if it meant keeping a valuable ally for the wars to come, then he would. He wasn't going to let something as trivial as his feelings get in the way.
"I feel I need to apologise your Grace. After our journey beyond the wall I was...weakened, and I think I may have over stepped by bounds. We both have a responsibility to our people and we do not have time for such things. "
She looked at him with sad eyes. The apology was supposed to fix things, ease her burden, not make her sad. You know nothing Jon Snow echoed in his mind, sounding suspiciously like his former red headed wilding lover.
"I'm sorry you feel this way my lord. I fear you will not enjoy the news I bring you."
Jon looked at her in confusion, interest peaked.
"We are to be married in a fortnight. I have spoken with Tyrion and we feel such a union would offer advantages for both our sides. I elected to tell you the news myself, given our...more personal connection. I had hoped..." she started, her eyes seemingly growing sadder. She paused, using the back of her knuckle to wipe a stray tear forming at the corner of her eye. Breathing deeply, she continued. "I had hoped it would be more than a political marriage, but I see such thoughts were foolish."
It took every ounce of effort Dany had to not burst into tears right then and there. Everything had gone completely wrong and she felt like a complete idiot. Foolish girl, thinking he was in love with you. How had he described it? Ah yes, a weakness. Your love is nothing but a disadvantage to his cause. She felt her throat catch and she could take it not longer.
"Forgive me." she murmured, dashing away from him, tears now falling steadily down her rosen cheeks.
"Daenerys, wait!" he called, but it was too late, she was already out the door; her hasty exit punctuated by the slam of the oak slab into its socket. Her words bounced about in his head, like gnats on a summers day, pestering him to the point of annoyance. We are to be married...personal connection...I had hoped...more than a political marriage... "You idiot!" he roared, throwing her discarded cup across the room, watching as it crashed against the stone and spilled the remaining liquid onto the floor.
"Your Grace?" enquired the voice of his Hand, Sir Davos Seaworth, who stood hesitantly in the doorway.
"Come in Davos" Jon sighed. He ran a hand over his face, attempting to clear it of tension.
"I take the news of your upcoming nuptials didn't go over well."
Jon huffed. "You could say that."
Eyeing his sire carefully, Davos treaded lightly with his next question. "Can I ask your Grace, how do you feel about the whole thing? Do you agree with this decision? I'm no high born, but I think I could convince Tyrion well enough to call it off if you didn't approve."
Jon smiled at the thought. He had a good man at his side. No question. "No need Davos. I agree. They have a point, it does make logical sense. There is a lot of benefit in our two kingdoms coming together."
"Then why the long face?" Jon laughed darkly, shaking his head. Davos watched as Jon's dark curls, usually in a neat bun, swayed back and forth.
"Do you remember that conversation we had out on the walkway? About her good heart?"
"Aye."
"Well, you were right. I have noticed much more than that. She is... indescribably beautiful."
"I'm still confused where the frustration fits into all this." replied Davos, scratching his beard thoughtfully.
"She wants more than a political marriage. She came to me, willing to actually give..whatever this is between us a shot, and I blew it. Instead of just letting her speak, I was impatient. I assumed she was rejecting me so I told her I wanted to keep things simple, emotionally unattached. "
"And I suppose in truth, you want the actual opposite of that." finished the older man, nodding in understanding. "Matters of the heart are never easy lad. We make mistakes, we say things we don't mean and then stand there amazed at how quickly the whole thing turns to shite."
"You've been married a long time. You've had many sons, a seemingly happy wife. What do you suggest I do?"
"Talk to her lad. Listen to what she is saying, with her words as well as her body. Women are terrible for telling you one thing when they mean something else. Don't leave anything open for them to guess at. If you love her, tell her. Simple as." Seeing Jon's doubtful expression Davos did his best to be reassuring, giving the man a hearty pat on the knee. "The entire North put their faith in you to make wise decisions. You have proven yourself braver than any other man out there and faced death head on twice now. You may see yourself as a bastard Jon Snow, but the man I see before me is much more than that. You are a King."
Satisfied with his council, Davos left his King in peace, his boots leading him towards his next destination. For such capable young leaders, they sure had made a mess of things.
"Ahh Tyrion..." he said, finding the imp sat in front of the fire. "It seems we need to have a chat."