EDIT: Some readers make my day, name calling with anon, can't be reported, but you will be deleted. Those people who wants things certain ways, I encourage you to write your own stories. I think every writer with decent work deserves reviews for their hard work, its a give and take. They provide you with an amazing written piece and a reader can give a few words of their thoughts.
As for those who don't like certain pairings, plots, etc, no one is making you stick around. Move on, find another well written story, or write your own.
Chapter 4
One month later…
Snow fell all around her, but there was no coldness to the touch of it. Flakes melted in her silvery hair, and on her cheeks, but she felt warm and soft. The winter coat Lady Stark had had fashioned for her of white furs encased her in welcomed heat. She held out a white glove to catch the snowflakes, but white powder did not come to rest on leather. Daenerys looked up to see the large pillars decorated in vines, large skulls of beasts lined the way to a throne of swords.
It was there she realized it was snowing inside this empty palace. The ceiling above her revealed the large gray skies of snowing clouds. Everything was cold, grim, a sense of melancholy hung heavily in this throne room, but there was no soul to weep for it. She was alone, in this room with the iron chair. With one look at it and her purple eyes saddened, how many of those swords wielders had died?
She walked forward, up the steps to the throne made of melted swords to fuse together as one. A milkglass sword stood out amongst the rest of gray steel. Even against the snow it gleamed untouched by flames, but at its pommel was a wolf head with its teeth bared. She went to reach for it when a soft sound echoed eerily into the vast room, someone was crying.
It was a pitiful sound that came out as a soulless wail, so filled with despair that it clutched at Dany's throat, squeezing until it was difficult to draw breath. Her hand fell away from the milkglass sword; she hurried down the nearest corridor to the source of the weeping. Her heels clicked hard in her haste against the rosy, stone floor, the sound ricocheted off the red walls.
Dany reached a doorway dimly lit by the hearth set ablaze in the chambers. The wail had died away into a soft whimper, then voices. She neared as her breath clouded from her lips. It was still cold. Daenerys stood in the doorway of the large chambers, three-headed dragons on rich tapestries covered the walls. She softly pushed the four-inch opening a bit wider until she could see more clearly.
She heard a deep, silken voice speak. "That monster, what has he done to you?" There was pain in the masculine voice.
"You mustn't speak like that," A rasped, softness filled the room a moment later. Dany caught a glimpse of her, an ethereal woman with eyes of a deep purple, nearly indigo, they were banked with cold fire. Silver-gold hair fell in waves over her bare breasts, bare as the rest of her. It was there she saw the silvery scars along her body, scratches, bite marks, as if the poor woman had been ravaged by a beast. Now colorful bruises littered her body, shades of purple, blues, yellows, and greens, not one expanse of skin was left unmarred.
The man was wearing white armor and a white cloak. He shook a head of golden curls; he turned with a frigid expression. There she saw the flashing feline eyes the color of wildfire green. He was handsome, young. His expression was murderous, "He's a monster."
"He is your king," The woman's voice was soft, but cut through air with a queenly authority. "Never forget that, for he will not."
"He burns more and more men alive, and for every man he burns you will have a visitor in the night." The golden-haired man hissed. "Is that what you want? To be raped again and again?"
Her expression was vicious, "I am a woman, I have no cock, what I want means very little to him or any knight or soldier under his command." She sighed wearily. "It has been many years since I birthed him his second son, he will not stop until he has another."
"Do not fool yourself, he will never stop until he lays beneath the ground, dead." The man was cold, on the edges of a constantly boiling anger beneath the surface. "Do not remain blind to his madness."
"I am not!" She hissed. "I must protect my little boy, he is young still, innocent, he does not understand the cruelty his father is. I will keep it that way for as long as I can."
"What of your eldest son, what will he do about his mad father?" The knight inquired.
She sighed wearily, "He will do his duty as prince of the seven kingdoms. He only tells me I must hold on just a little bit longer, hold on, and have faith in your son; I will free you of my father."
"Pretty words," The knight murmured.
"He's a good man," The woman breathed, a ghost of a genuine smile on her lips. "And a good son, both of them, my boys, they are the only right thing their father ever did."
"Your grace," The man's eyes gentled at the sight of her tears.
"Help me forget, please?" She whispered to him. "I feel him all over me, every day; I feel his sickening touch on my skin, inside me, I cannot bear it. Help me forget as you often have. Replace his touch with yours."
The man sighed, he leaned forward, his lips warm against hers, "As your command, my queen." He unsheathed himself of his armor until he was bare as she. They fell onto the bed together in a tangle of touches, kisses, breathy moans and sighs. Dany turned away as they faded from her sight. She turned and ran off down the hall; her winter coat fell from her skin, replaced by a silken, plum summer gown. A thick, silver three-headed dragon necklace hung from her neck. Soft silk hung off her shoulders, the gown revealed soft cleavage. A crown was on her head, it was bright silver with amethyst jewels, dainty and intricately crafted, similar to the one their mother's had been before Viserys had to sell it away.
Dany stood before a pair of great bronze doors; she pushed until they gave way and opened to the great hall. She had been here moments ago, instead of snow, the room was lit and hot with heat. A bloodcurdling scream startled her, her lips fell open to a silent cry at the scene of horror before her. Suspended from the beams a man in armor with the sigil of a direwolf was slowly being cooked alive over a large column of fire.
"No, stop! Stop!" A voice cried out. "Father!"
In her line of vision a man who looked like Eddard Stark, but taller, stronger, handsomer, struggled against the bindings on his hands behind his back. A thick cord was wrapped around his neck tightened with every step as he tried to reach a sword placed strategically in front of him, but just out of reach. His words died into screams at the sight of the burning man.
Upon an iron throne a man with a dragon crown, Targaryen hair and eyes, watched gleefully. His voice strong and crazed cried out continuously, "Burn him, burn him, burn him!" His eyes were wide, wondrous as the flames danced before them and the man's screams sung in his ears like a sweet lullaby. "Burn him!"
Her cries died in her throat as she searched frantically amongst the faceless there watching in silent horror. She saw a man with hair of beaten gold curls, flashing green catlike eyes. It was him! The knight she'd seen in white armor and cloak. She ran to him, her eyes watering with salty liquid. "Please, help him! You must do something, stop this! He'll die!" He did not respond to her pleas. She shook his arm. "Look at me! You have to save him! He's dying!"
The knight continued to stare a distant daze in his green eyes, anger, remorse, spite? Dany looked at the strangling man, her lips fell open on a cry as his grey eyes began to gloss and dim.
"Father…" His voice was whispered, barely audible. "…Ashara…" He was gone. Dany collapsed to her knees, her hands fell from the knight's arm, and she saw him tremble beside her, his hand tightened on the hilt of his blade.
A hand reached out and settled on his fisted hand around the hilt of his blade. The green-eyed, golden-haired man set eyes wild with defiance onto his sworn brother donned in white.
The man was earnest, almost sympathetic. "You need to calm yourself." He said with a firm quietness. The held stares for a few moments longer before the golden-haired man scoffed and his right hand fell away from the sword hilt. "When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey."
The green-eyed man had a black scowl, his voice tempered and quiet. "It doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he does." He turned and stormed away, the earnest man in white sighed wearily.
It all began to fade away; Dany remained on the ground, unmoving. Tears fell from her eyes. She wanted to go home, back to Winterfell. She didn't know where she was, but she was frightened.
"Jon…" Daenerys wept softly. "Robb… someone help me! Please!"
"There you are daughter." A voice seemed to croak in the darkness. A man with hollow purple eyes, lilac like Viserys, long silver-grayed hair nearly down to his waist, and he was dressed in rich fabrics of red, a three-headed dragon on his chest. His face was gaunt, cheeks sunken, skin pale as snow; he was much older than he should be. He held out a grizzled hand with long, cracked nails. "Come here daughter, you're safe now, all our enemies are dead."
Daenerys trembled, "Why, why did you do that?" Tears leaked from her eyes, but the moment they hit her skin they began to steam. "Why did you let them die?" Her voice was rising until it was a pierced scream. "You killed them!"
"Sweet, naïve girl," The man smiled eerily. "Have you forgotten who you are? Whose blood runs in your veins? You are blood of the dragon, daughter of the dragon! My daughter! They were our enemies; everyone who isn't a Targaryen is our enemy! To be a dragon, it the glory of our house, remember who you are, you are mine, my child, mine, you are my seed, you are a dragon!"
His hands reached for her, Daenerys pushed his hands away, and she scrambled to her feet, grabbed the skirts of her gown and tried to flee. "I am not yours!"
"Remember who you are!" He thundered behind her, she turned fearfully over her shoulder to see advance upon her, his mouth opened and green fire poured out.
"No!" Dany screamed as she was bathed in wildfire.
"Remember who you are…" A voice hissed as smoke surrounded her, she looked up, no longer was it the mad king, but a dragon with gleaming black and red scales, smoldering pits of wildfire green were its eyes gazing down at her. "It is who you are…" It hissed and a sea of fire took her.
Daenerys shot up in her bed, furs fell away, and she was covered in a sheen of sweat as her heart beat wildly against her chest. Dany sucked in several breaths as they shakily left her body in ragged spouts. She'd nearly lost control of her emotions, nearly given in to the onslaught of hot and fierce tears that formed in her eyes.
A dream, a dream, a horrible dream, nothing else, it was just a dream. In a simple shift, she felt something bump her arm, it was her jet black and crimson swirled egg. The gold and pink, creamy white and golden laced sat nearby it. Books lay sprawled over her bed, the prominent was A Dance With Dragons, and it still lay open on her lap above the furs, the stories of Targaryens and their dragons. Targaryen, the word was enough to tempt her to unleashing her tears.
'Aerys Targaryen,' It had been him, her father, the mad king. Who else could be so cruel? Dany kept it together, thankfully she kept it together just long enough to seek solace from her three dragon eggs that were her only sanctuary. If only she could bar her door against the world, but Jon and Robb would allow her no bolt, lock, or loops in which to place to secure the door shut. No, they would take her by the hand out into the cruel, unforgiving world, and promise her to wage war on those she feared.
Dany drew her knees upwards until she hugged them to her chest and hunched over to rest her cheek on top of them. She closed her eyes and wondered what bargain she would have to strike with the gods that would gain her the freedom she craved above else from her family, the name Targaryen.
There was only one option she knew, if one could even call it an option. And the idea of accepting death willingly sickened her to the point that her stomach rebelled and her mind protested vehemently. She had done nothing wrong, she had only been a baby girl in her crib when the war had been finished, had been in the world only days when death was sentenced to her by the newly crowned usurper. But what else could she do? What else did she have to guarantee her survival?
Nothing and how cruel of a reality it was.
It was hope that she clung to now when there was nothing else to hold onto. Hope that Lord Stark would continue to be merciful. But, he was not king. Fear struck her down as she remembered the whispers, the usurper was riding north, and he would be here in a few weeks' time. Dany clamped her mouth shut, refusing to give into the despair that clawed at her. She would not give the usurper the satisfaction of her fears.
She would not give up, not now; she couldn't, not when she'd survived so long. She had hope, no matter how unlikely it might be. She had Jon and Robb, and the other Stark children, and for now that was enough. Viserys was gone, he could not hurt her, could not control her, any longer.
She did not hear the knock on her door, the soft turn of the handle, the small opening. Robb and Jon had come to retrieve Dany when Sansa and Arya had complained she had yet to come from her room for her morning meal. Sansa had been too shy, ladylike to go find her, Arya was willing and keen to barge into the Targaryen's room, but Robb had stopped her, much to her chagrin.
They saw her with her legs drawn protectively to her chest, and Jon wondered if she had any idea of how vulnerable such a position made her look. Robb hesitated; his early determination to bring her out was waning. He'd softened greatly to the Targaryen beauty after seeing how eagerly his younger siblings had taken to her nearly a month ago during her arrival.
Jon's heart ached; he was very fond of her. She was suffering privately, away from prying eyes. He'd understood her overwhelming sense of helplessness, Lord and Lady Stark had accepted her, the Stark children had openly accepted her, but the north had been slower to receive a Targaryen in its midst. He'd seen their scrutinizing stares when she was in the courtyard with Arya, Bran and Rickon, or sewing with Sansa in the castle, or reading in the library, or when they'd be off riding. She would act as if she did not notice their open hostility, revulsion towards her. Dany would smile pleasantly at them regardless. He knew what it felt like to be an outsider, to have no place in the world for you, how you'd struggle to make your own and in the hopes it would not be alone. He'd been lucky for his siblings.
Robb whispered to him they should walk away and not let her know they'd been there at all. But he could not find it in himself to walk away and leave her, she seemed so alone. He opened her door wider, but when she did not stir to his presence, Jon awkwardly cleared his throat, alerting her.
Dany's head snapped up, her eyes alarmed, defensive, and so automatic that she had little practice in defending herself. The thought made him frown. "You did not come down for your morning meal, we were worried."
She straightened, forced a strained smile. "I wasn't hungry."
Robb frowned now, "You need to eat, the north is not a place to make light of a meal. You need your strength."
Dany nodded, "I was forgetting."
Jon had never witnessed such expressive eyes, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Every emotion was there plain as day, her early mask of soft warmth was gone, and now he realized how hard she'd worked to keep her face expressionless. "Dany, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Daenerys said firmly.
"Dany," Robb was unconvinced. "You can't lie to us."
"I'm not," Daenerys protested, Robb and Jon held their stance. She sighed. "I had a bad dream, but I'm okay now, I promise."
"What was it of?" Robb prompted.
Dany smiled with ease this time, her façade was rebuilt and stronger than ever, "White walkers."
"White walkers?" Jon said in disbelief, he sighed. The look in her purple eyes urged him to give her an out, not to make her talk about things she was not ready to. Jon looked down at the several books that lay sprawled on her bed, all open to different chapters, flagged by pieces of fabric where she'd left off. They were all of the history of her house. "Try not to read so much before you go to sleep or your mind will go wild with vivid stories."
"Yes, of course." Dany breathed out relief. She looked at them when they made no move to leave, she arched a fine brow. "Can we speak more after I am properly dressed?" Jon and Robb flushed, muttered a quick apology and left her room. Dany ghosted a smile as the door shut behind them. She removed her furs, left the shift pool at her feet, found a blue tunic dress to wear and black trousers with her boots and white fur cloak.
Dany looked at her eggs, sighed, dragon dreams had filled her nights. She took each one with tender care and set them carefully into the hearth. The fire had nearly died out but the wood simmered with embers to heat her eggs for some time.
"You desire the heat as much as I do," She mused fondly to her three dragon eggs. She touched the shell of the black, a greater heat than the hearth met her finger tips, and it nearly singed her skin, until she withdrew them. The pad of her fingertip was red and angry, sweating, but not blistered. Her eyes squinted, softened a moment later.
Dany went to the door, opened it to find Jon and Robb amidst conversation. They stopped at the sight of her. She laughed, "Don't allow me to sullen your discussion."
"It was nothing really," Jon reassured her with a barely there smile.
"You should get something to eat before the noon meal is all gone." Robb told her, Dany smiled.
"You worry too much, Robb. I'm not made out of porcelain!" Dany chided him gently. Robb flushed, Jon noticed.
"Enough of this, let's go the great hall and find you some food." Robb sighed in exasperation as his flush reddened; he hurried on ahead of her and Jon.
She matched Jon's pace easily, he seemed uneased. "Are you sure you are alright?"
Daenerys pushed his shoulder playfully, "Yes I am. You worry more than Robb." She teased him.
Jon was solemn, "Of course I'd worry you're my friend."
Dany slowed in her steps, Jon stopped to turn and look at her. The emotion that riddled her face was unreadable, her expression softened greatly a moment later, she was sweet and tender when she spoke. "Thank you for worrying about me, Jon."
Jon flushed now, "You're my friend." He said again, but in shadows of his heart he thought more.
"And you are mine," Dany said kindly, she leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. Jon pulled away, Daenerys's smile fell and her lips parted.
Jon was red, "We should go."
Daenerys's mood dampened. "Yes, of course." She went to follow him as they entered the courtyard, Jon would not allow her the chance to catch his pace.
"Daenerys," Jon and Dany froze to see Ned watching them expectantly. "Do you have a moment, child?"
They exchanged frowns and Daenerys nodded slowly, Jon watched her follow their father quietly. They wandered into the Godswood. Dany caught glimpses of the direwolves, they liked to wander in the dense, untouched forest. They came to the heart tree, a dark pool of water by it. Dany had seen it a few times now, and every time it filled her with a sense of ominous wonder.
Ned offered her a small smile, "Come, sit with me." He sat on the roots beneath the tree; he unsheathed Ice and began to knead it with a whetstone. Dany sat before him a smaller tangle of roots. "I like to come here to think."
Dany looked around in silent appreciation of the wildness of the Godswood. "I can see why, it's like an entirely different world in here."
Ned chuckled, a deep somber sound from his throat. "Catelyn rarely visits here, she feels unwelcomed the moment sets foot in here."
"It is overpowering to the senses," Daenerys spoke thoughtfully. "I find it comforting." Ned chuckled again. Dany smiled at him shyly. "Is that strange to say?"
"No, child, it's not." Ned reassured her, she watched the Valyrian blade gleam under the dappled sunlight between the blood red leaves of the heart tree. "You are welcomed here anytime you wish." Dany smiled gratefully. After moment he sighed deeply, "I wanted to speak with you, I received word from the south, and King Robert is riding north."
"I know," Dany said quietly, held her tongue to a degree. "I heard whispers from the maids of his coming."
Ned nodded slowly, "They shouldn't have been speaking of such things."
"Does he know I am here?"
"No," Ned was solemn, he reminded her of the man in her dreams being strangled.
Dany breathed out evenly, "What will happen to me when he arrives?"
"I will not allow him to kill you or imprison you." Ned reassured her.
Dany tried to smile, it was shallow and soft. "Thank you for your kindness, Lord Stark, but I am not a child. I know you cannot guarantee my safety. You can't protect me from the king, no one can protect me."
Ned was quiet a moment, and nodded. "Aye, I cannot guarantee it. I can only hope King Robert will see to reason."
"Something tells me he is not a reasonable man when it comes to Targaryens," Dany's voice was wistful. "May I take my leave, Lord Stark? I'd like to go back inside." He'd seen the unshed tears in her eyes.
"Of course child, go on." He let her go, she quickly got to her feet and retreated from the Godswood, in the distance Ned saw a white direwolf emerge from the foliage and take pace at her side, her trembling hand came out to tangle in his snowy mane.
A few moments later, fiery red hair lined his vision. Catelyn, her expression was gentle. "My apologies my love, I heard everything."
Ned smiled wanly, "What am I to do, Cat? I do not wish to see the girl taken south and murdered."
Catelyn sat next to him, her furs tight around her. "Robert will have her beheaded the moment he sets his sights on her, he'll put her head on a pike if it's the last thing he does."
"Should I send her away?" Ned sighed, he sheathed Ice.
"She would never survive," Catelyn was sympathetic. "She's just a child, how can he be so blind to it?"
"Robert despises the Targaryens he will hunt everyone he can get his hands on," Ned shook his head in disgust at the thought.
"We cannot allow him to kill her," Catelyn was firm. "I will not allow such horror in my home."
"Then he will take her south," Ned told her.
"That man," Catelyn said with ire. Her blue eyes saddened warmly as she thought of the little dragon. "Have you not seen her in the courtyard with the children? They adore her, Sansa, and Arya especially. There is not an ounce of taint in that girl."
"Robert will not see it that way, Cat."
"Then he is a blind man."
"I know, but we cannot speak like that of our king." Ned chided her.
"I will say as I like, it is injustice if he were to come and cut her down." Catelyn soured at her husband. Ned looked amused by her protectiveness. "I'm serious, Ned!"
"I know, I know," Ned mulled. "I will do what I can to protect her from his wrath; she is a good girl, innocent of her father's crimes. Maybe the years of lessened his anger."
"I hope so," Catelyn sighed despondently. "I do not wish to see the devastation on our children's faces if he cannot let go of the past."
"I pray to the old gods he is a changed man," Ned bowed his head; a moment later he stood and held his out for his wife. Catelyn smiled affectionately at him and gave him her hand.
"Come, you need a warm meal, you spend far too much time out here in the cold." Catelyn said as Ned chuckled, together they returned to Winterfell.
End of Chapter!
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