Chapter Six - Daenerys III

Daenerys woke to an ominous dawn. Her chambers bathed in muted grey, purple tones, cold and damp in the uncomfortable silence. Deep crimson light from stained glass panes cast dark shadows on everything. The hearth fire was a smoldering pile of ash, fingers of smoke reaching upward, dancing slowly in the faint breeze of the draft. It feels like a tomb in here, Dany's chest shivering in response. She climbed out of bed, grabbing her lion skin from a nearby chair, swiftly wrapped it around her, and made her way to the balcony. With a heavy tug, she pulled the doors wide open and stood there for a long moment in wonder.

Her morning refuge disappeared into thin air, enveloped in a cloud of dense fog; scary and beautiful all at once. She stepped through, into thin air, disappearing into the sky. It was like a living dream, the stone dragons peeking through the thick mist as it rolled through the morning, she had never seen it so heavy and unruly before. Daenerys made her way to the railing, peering out over clouded emptiness, the world covered in hazy shadows, the mulled sound of the crashing waves on the surf. Dany couldn't see the horizon anymore.

Every victory of late had led to an equally difficult set of consequences. Dany hated the uncertainty of it all. In what is now being called the Second Field of Fire, she was able to take out most of the Lannister forces only to have lost most of the grain and foodstuff from the Reach to dragon fire. Drogon was injured, a large wound left by the removal of the spiked steel spear. A vicious piece of weaponry, Dany fumed as she pulled it from Drogon's shoulder who screamed in pain.

She had avenged Olenna's death, burning her traitorous Tarly bannermen alive. Dany smiled inwardly as they turned to ash in front of her eyes, wishing that Olenna could see her being the dragon she had willed her to be. She knew that going off to battle alone was going to lead to more of those unnecessary admonishments from her council, but she didn't care. She did it because she had to; for her fallen allies she had failed, for Olenna. But as Dany flew back to Dragonstone, she saw her Dothraki making their way back to the coast with their spoils; An underwhelming amount of food wagons that remained from the attack that would barely feed her men for a month. A bitter victory indeed.

Flying over the Blackwater Bay, Dany had wondered how much longer Jon Snow was going to let her keep him on Dragonstone. They already mined so much dragonglass and with her pledge of support, she would send continuous shipments of obsidian to White Harbor and to the North beyond. He will ask to leave soon, she thought, and how would you feel about that? She couldn't answer, I guess that was answer enough.

On her approach to Dragonstone, Dany saw a small dark figure standing on the cliffs in front of her. Slowly, the figure had begun to take shape; long, dark cloak, and dark hair. Jon Snow. Was he waiting? Dany had felt her chest tightened, she gripped Drogon harder and he responded, letting out a roar of greeting as they flew toward him. As if her dragon could read her mind, he circled above Jon, landed near him, and approached.

And then it happened, something so unexpected that Dany was still uncertain how she felt about it. Drogon, although friendly enough and usually not interested in other people, leaned forward, his frills shook in curiosity, sniffing intently at Jon Snow who stood his ground; fear and awe equally playing across his face. As Drogon had gotten closer, Jon removed one of his gloves and reached out, letting Drogon sniff him. And then… and then… She heard it in such shock that she gasped out loud. The faint cooing whistle of her dragon, a sound usually only reserved for her, a sound of familiarity and trust. As Jon touched him, pet his snout, Drogon responded willingly, relaxed, accepting. Drogon knows only one thing: friend or foe. But in his own way, Drogon had spoken to her, something she'd known for some time: Jon Snow is a friend and he can be trusted. Her dragon had known. She had felt her body grow warm, a new feeling of admiration and desire for this man swept over her. Maybe she should trust again. Maybe I should allow myself love again.

As they made their way back to the castle, they had talked of strength in ruling, and she felt him silently questioning her choices. Another judgment, from someone who was supposed to understand difficult decisions. Sometimes strength is terrible, she had told him, remembering back in the throne room, of that something terrible Ser Davos had said. Dany had reached out for Jon in that moment, her hand on his arm, halting their walk so she could ask him directly about Ser Davos' "knife in the heart" statement that haunted her days ever since.

"Ser Davos gets carried away" He had said it with a sly, off-putting smirk, pushing away the statement as she knew he would. But as she implored Jon again, his face changed, the furrowed brow returned, and he looked conflicted. Why would he be?

The moment was lost when Jorah had appeared to her on the cliff. My Bear, my oldest friend, she thought, all bright-eyed and strong, she wanted to run and hug him as he kneeled before her. It felt like a lifetime ago since Dany had given him leave to find a cure, and so he did. She was beyond elated, her most loyal and trusted friend, back at her side. She could barely contain her happiness when, without so much as a by your leave, Jon Snow excused himself in favor of returning to the mines to check on progress, leaving Dany with Jorah to catch up on life.

And as soon as a shred happiness came into her life, it was yanked away with just as much fervor. The following day, a raven from Winterfell had arrived with good news of Jon's family reunited coupled with the horrific report that the Army of the Dead were marching on Eastwatch. Jon had stood at the other end of the Painted Table, imploring Dany to help the North, and she wanted to, truly. She promised Jon and she had meant it, but how was she to stop Cersei from taking back all they just gained? Her Dothraki were stationed on the Blackwater Rush, just northwest of Kings' Landing, while Grey Worm and the Unsullied marched across the Westerlands to join with them. Her army was ready to blockade King's Landing, the Iron Throne was finally within reach. The threat in the North felt as far away as Qarth. But as she looked at Jon's face, she knew she was wrong. Her war was for her birthright, his was for life and death; it wasn't even close.

Talk of a truce with Cersei began to build among the council, figuring out ways to convince the Mad Queen to stand down while they faced an enemy tantamount to a children's fairy tale in her mind. Even Dany, with her new found faith in Jon Snow and the oncoming threat, was still skeptical, but she took a leap of faith, for him. But she knew there was no choice; someone was going to have to go convince the queen for a truce. Someone was going to have to hunt for a White Walker soldier beyond the Wall.

But those feelings of doubt intensified as Jorah volunteered to go on this death mission north of the Wall. NO! She had just gotten him back, there was no way she could allow this! And just when she was about to protest…

"The Freefolk will help us," was uttered across the Painted Table. Jon Snow met her worried gaze, No! This was not happening, Dany couldn't hide it any longer. Her face had projected her worry and fear of losing him for the entire council to see, she didn't care. She had held his gaze, begging him not to do this, and he had stared back with the same intensity, telling Dany he had no choice. She pulled her queenly perogative on him, telling him that he didn't have permission to leave, but he called her bluff. This dance between them wasn't new anymore, and in many ways, she learned more about who the King in the North really is because of it, and none of this surprised her. He would do what is right, regardless of her wants. Gods, I might love him for that.

Those next three days flew by in a blink of an eye; preparations being made for the Wall, Tyrion's dangerous trip to King's Landing to broker a meeting with the Mad Queen. Dany had spent her time on Drogon, flying around Dragonstone, many times with tears in her eyes as she passed over Jon's ship being stocked for its departure. Once again, he had declined her dinner invitation with work as an excuse. It had hurt more than she would ever admit, even to Missandei, who could see her anxiety building over this perilous expedition north. She hadn't felt this level of uncertainty and fear a long while, maybe since the Dothraki sea after being captured by Khal Moro. She hated the weakness, wanted to go along with them but didn't dare bother to say so, she already knew what everyone's response would be.

With Tyrion's safe return came the inevitable departure of Jon and Jorah for Eastwatch. While on her way down to say farewell, she had passed that place on the path, their place, and couldn't hold in the emotions. Her mind raced with fear; Something's wrong, this isn't going to go well, I can't get over this dread. She had reached for the railing, looking out over the tidal pools that once brought her calm to steady herself. She had bit back the tears as they welled up, taking deep quiet breaths, pushing past the feelings that stuck in her throat. It took a long moment to regain herself, and once she did, she put Queen Daenerys back on track, wiped her face, and headed to the beach.

Jon was so formal, she'd thought they had gotten passed this dance, but here he was, cool and distant as the day they first met. Even his self-deprecating comment about not dealing with him anymore - something was amiss, this wasn't the Jon Snow from the cave, or even from the council meeting he attended. His wall was up when all she wanted was to reach out and grab his hands, pull him closer, and hold him until he promised to give up this suicide mission. But instead, he nodded to her politely and left her standing there, wishing for more, praying for his safe return and Jorah's as well.

…And then they were gone.

Dany had spent her days on the path, watching the horizon. She would whispers prayers through her tears as she rode Drogon around the island, praying for a sighting of a sail or raven from the north. She should have told him she didn't want him to go. To be honest with him about what she was feeling, even if she didn't quite know herself. They had said so much to each other without saying anything at all. He might not admit it in all his formality that day on the beach as he departed, but she knew. The cave had shown her the real Jon Snow. I should have stopped him, but she knew better. Jon, please be safe.

Dornish red was at her side every night since. Tyrion relished his new drinking companion as they refilled and philosophized in her council chambers at the foot of the giant hearth. It would take weeks for any word from them, Tyrion had told her. But she had insisted on sending a raven to Eastwatch to confirm their safe arrival. A week later, Dany had gotten word back that they did and had already departed beyond the Wall. Almost a week had passed and no word since.

Dany's dreams were filled with haunting nightmares and this morning had proved no different. She was alone in the castle being chased by an unknown demon. In her thin linen nightshift, she frantically ran barefoot as the castle stones grew colder with each step. She hid behind doorways, only to hear the rustle and movement from an invisible threat. Dany felt the cold as deep as fear run through her as she desperately sought a place to hide from this shadow that was trying to kill her. Up and down the castle steps, across the battlements and into the throne room, and through the cavernous tunnel underneath. Icy laughter echoed from behind her, mockingly taunting her, knowingly stalking her every step. There was no place to hide. She felt death upon her and it was numbingly cold. And then she woke.

She shook the nightmare from her mind as she heard her chamber door open abruptly inside her room, Missandei. Dany turned to face her balcony doors when Missandei's silhouette appeared through the hazy fog. As she approached her, Dany saw the deep worry on her face, her eyes wide with fear. Dany's heart dropped, her lion skin fell to the ground. Oh Gods, No No No…

"A raven just arrived from Eastwatch…"