"This came tied to one of the dragon's spikes," Bran said handing the letter to Jon. It bore the Targaryen seal, and Jon felt a wave of hope pass over him.
Lord Snow,
It seems as if you have stolen something very precious to me, and I want it returned. Send me my daughter and the dragon back unharmed, and I will show mercy. Failure to do so is an act of war. I trust that you will make the honorable decision.
- Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons
(You have until sunrise tomorrow.)
"The dragon is waiting by the Weirwood tree," Bran said as Jon's eyes lingered on Dany's elegant script. "You need to make a choice, I can't make it stay there for long."
"She smiled, Bran, really truly smiled. The Wildlings and some of the Northerners already have accepted her. We only need a few more weeks. Dany will see how happy she is, and somehow we will find a way to work things out," Jon rationalized, even though he knew that if Rhaella didn't warm up to him, it wouldn't matter whether she liked the North or not.
"Perhaps," Bran said. "Perhaps not." Bran's eyes rolled back into his head, ending his input on the matter.
"Your grace, the council has agreed that it is in everyone's best interest to return the child to Daenerys," Davos said. "Immediately."
"The best interest for who? It was Tyrion who suggested this wasn't it?" Jon said angrily.
"It's for the good of the realm and Rhaella. Tyrion stayed out of it mostly," Davos said clasping his hands together. He saw something dark flicker in Jon's eyes, and knew that there would be no reasoning with him. Still, he had to try.
"Tyrion told me that killing Dany was for the good of the realm, and that I should put duty over love. Ask me in ten years, he said, if what I did was right. I should have fucking killed him. I should have said fuck the realm, fuck duty and honor. Dany was the only good thing in this shit world, and I killed her for the 'good of the realm'." Jon spat as Davos looked at him with sympathy. "I will not choose the realm over my daughter and Dany ever again."
"Jon, Daenerys isn't coming to compromise with you. She won't be coming to accept your apologies and play family. She is coming with an army and dragons to bring us fire and blood," Davos said. "We can't handle a normal war, let alone a war against dragons."
"If you're right, we all deserve to burn anyway," Jon muttered darkly. "This is my second chance to choose her. I have to try."
Davos sighed, knowing that many people in the North were responsible for Jon and Daenerys' downfalls. He wished he had gone straight to Daenerys about a marriage alliance with Jon. He should have fought harder for the two of them, but since he couldn't change the past, he could try to change the future.
"Then don't think about the realm, think about your daughter. You know Rhaella cries for Daenerys throughout the night. She barely eats, Jon, and I'm worried. How can you not see that she is afraid? I wonder if she thinks the food is poisoned," Davos said sadly. Sometimes he wanted to scoop her in his arms and reassure her that everything would be okay, but he saw her flinch every time she was touched by an adult without permission or her initiating it. "I know you love her and want to make things right with Daenerys, but this isn't the way."
"I know what it means now. For the first time, I feel like the sun finally rose in my eternal darkness," Jon said, thinking of Uncle Benjen and Maester Aemon's words about fathering a child. "I love Rhaella more than anything else in the world. I lost eleven years of her being in my life, and I can't miss another moment. She is home. Westeros is her birthright."
"Holding onto her won't make her love you back," Davos said. "You have to do what is best for your child, even if that means letting her go. You can't keep her away from Daenerys, it isn't right."
"I don't want to keep her from Dany. Rhaella will only be away from her, until she comes to Westeros. Until then, I want to be her father."
"Then be her bloody father, and do the right thing. This isn't about the realm, it's about that little girl who wants to go home," Davos shouted, knowing his pleas would make no difference. Jon was too far gone to change his mind, but it would be better if he came to the decision to let Rhaella go, rather than Daenerys taking her and burning everything down. "At the very least try to make her feel comfortable as we wait for Daenerys to strike. Get to know her, and maybe you'll finally see.." Only then, it would be possible for Jon to come to his senses.
...
"You look beautiful," Jon said as he stepped into Rhaella's chambers. She was wearing a crimson gown that darkened to black midway on her skirts; it was adorned with black lace and silver thread that shimmered in the light. Half of her hair was elegantly braided, while the rest fell into loose ringlet curls. Jon smiled fondly, remembering Dany wearing the dragon pins in her braids.
Rhaella continued to stare catatonically at herself in the mirror, trying to ignore him. She only looked up when he made his way towards her, carrying a small wooden box and a scroll.
"I was going to wait until the feast, but I wanted this to be between the two of us," Jon said.
"Should I be worried that there is a dagger in that box?" Rhaella asked and Jon's smile faltered. "I would like mine back."
"No matter what you do, I will never harm you," Jon said thinking of her attempt on his life. "Not again. I won't stop you the next time."
Rhaella didn't believe that. Even though she hated him, he was right. She wanted him dead, but she didn't want to be like him. All she wanted was to go home.
"I promised myself that I wouldn't father a bastard," Jon said as he unrolled the scroll. Had he known about Dany's pregnancy, he would have married her in a heartbeat. He would have accepted her offer to build her new world together; he still should have.
Rhaella stared at him in confusion. She hadn't heard of the term bastard, and it seemed like father was used incorrectly. "I don't know what that means."
"Now you'll never have to," Jon whispered as he set the legitimization document aside and opened the box. He carefully grabbed the delicate silver tiara, and held it above her head. "I Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, hereby proclaim you Rhaella of the House Targaryen, first of her name, Princess of Dragonstone, and rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms."
Rhaella stood frozen and watched in the mirror as he placed the tiara gently on her head. A large ruby was inlaid on the center spike framed by dragon wings that formed the band, and black diamonds glittered sporadically on the silver spires. She looked like a princess, and Aegon Targaryen looked like a king in his new gambeson, as he proudly stood behind her.
Rhaella swallowed a lump in her throat as she stared at herself in the mirror. A vision of her mother wearing one of her dragon gowns, and a dark haired brother and baby sister made tears swim in her eyes. She would have done anything to have that. She would have agreed to be her brother's queen and have his babies, if it meant that Aegon chose them. She wondered what he would think of that.
"Are you pleased?" Jon said as he put a hand on her shoulder. He hoped the tears in her eyes were out of happiness.
Rhaella blinked the tears away and put on a mask of coldness. The vision of her mother and siblings that were never meant to be disappeared, and she was left with the harsh reality of her life, "The baby who died would have been, but that's not me."
"I'm sorry," Jon said as she shrugged his hand off and turned away. "I know it doesn't change what I did, but you were born to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"I don't want to be the Queen. I want to go home," Rhaella murmured. She had the same look of vulnerability that Dany had on when he stabbed her, and he swallowed painfully at the memory.
"You'll see Dany again, I promise," Jon said as he grabbed her wrist.
"Promises don't mean much here," Rhaella said bitterly. If the Dothraki were merciful, they would have only cut off his hand for the transgression. She didn't understand why he never got the message as he lead her towards the Great Hall.
"The Dothraki believe that a man who touches a Khalakki without permission or in an emergency shames the Khal or Khaleesi and must face their wrath. An outsider would be put to death," Rhaella said.
While Daenerys had reigned them all in, the Dothraki still had a barbaric reputation. It seemed like the wife and daughters of the Khal were the only females awarded protection, until he decided otherwise. Jon still wasn't fond of the thought of her being around them, "You're not Dothraki."
There was a flash of hurt in Rhaella's eyes. No one, not even anyone in the tribe, had ever said that she didn't belong. The Dothraki had helped birth and raise her, which was more than Aegon Targaryen could say. They treated her with respect and kindness, like she was no different from anyone else. If anything, she wasn't Westerosi; she was born in Braavos and was more foreign than Daenerys had ever been. "I am," Rhaella said looking at his hand on hers and then straight into his eyes. "And you're no Khal."
He let her wrist go, knowing he overstepped.
She didn't speak to him the entire way to the Great Hall, despite him trying to make small talk. Everything got worse as they joined the some of the small council, Sansa, Arya, and Gendry before walking in to take their seats at the high table. When Rhaella saw the amount of people crammed into the lower tables, she shrank behind Jon in fear.
"It's okay," he whispered soothingly. He was content with being the lesser of two evils as she used him as a shield. "They'll see you for what you are." Jon pulled out the seat next to his at the middle of the table, and motioned for her to sit down.
The shadow of Daenerys Targaryen. Blood of the Dragon. Foreign Princess. A savage...
Rhaella hoped they did because she barely recognized herself. There was no place for her to thrive without happiness, love, and sunshine. She wondered if that's how dragons went mad.
"I will not let your inbred bastard take my place," Sansa said defiantly to Jon as she put her hand on the chair. Rhaella didn't know what she was talking about, but given the looks of pure shock on Gendry and Davos' faces, disbelief on Arya's, Tyrion choking on the wine he already started to chug, and the murderous rage on Aegon's, she knew Sansa said something bad.
Sansa's words hit Jon in the gut, and he tried to control his rage. He kept his voice low as he pulled Sansa closer to the wall, "She is my trueborn daughter, your neice, and my heir. Go sit by Arya or leave."
"You would throw your own sister out for a brat you don't know? You would give the Crown and the North to Daenerys' spawn, knowing that she is coming to burn us all?" Sansa spat.
"And you think I should give it to you, after this? Children are not their mothers and fathers." Jon seethed, thinking Arya would make a better queen than she ever would. He didn't understand how Sansa could have such hatred for his child when she was a part of Rhaella, too. "Northern blood runs in her veins, my blood runs in her veins. I don't expect you take on a motherly role, but you will be kind."
"I don't know how I will ever look past the fact that you made a child with your aunt," Sansa said. "And that you are probably cheering for us all to burn because you want to fuck her again."
"Sansa," Jon said warningly, but she wasn't finished.
"How does it feel to be the one person Daenerys Targaryen probably hates more than anyone else in the world? Not me, not Arya, not Sam, Tyrion is probably a close second, but you. You're delusional if you think that you can negotiate with her. Aunt Dany is coming to put us in out places for keeping your incestuous baby away from her."
"If you say another fucking word-"
"Threaten me all you want, Bran told me your precious little girl tried to murder you while you slept. A true Targaryen, I'd say," Sansa said. "With Daenerys going Mad and you teetering on the edge, I think we all know which way her coin will land."
"She would have saved you the trouble," Jon said darkly. "And you better not fucking say anything. I swear if you tell anyone about what she did, I will throw you out of Winterfell myself."
Sansa smirked and shook her head, "Despite everything, you are my brother, and then the little bitch would be Queen." She brushed passed him and took the empty seat next to Arya. Gendry didn't acknowledge her arrival, opting to look at Rhaella who was sitting to his left, and Arya said a few terse words before looking away.
Jon took a deep breath to calm his boiling blood before walking to his seat, where Davos and Rhaella were talking about something. She looked oblivious to the stares she was receiving down at the lower tables, and she didn't know he stopped to listen.
"You can speak how many languages, your grace?" Gendry asked curiously. Even Arya looked mildly interested.
"A few." She said with a small smile as both Gendry and Davos looked intrigued. "High Valyrian, Low Valyrian from the cities around the Bay of Dragons, Braavosi, Volantene, Dothraki, a bit of Ghiscari, and the Common Tongue," she rattled them off.
Jon wondered if Robert Baratheon was having a stroke in the afterlife after seeing Gendry, Rhaella, and Stannis' former Hand converse amicably. It made him smile.
"It must get confusing," Davos said, thinking how he had a hard enough time with just the Common Tongue. "Dothraki just sounds like grunts and gibberish."
"Valyrian and Dothraki are my mother tongues. The Common Tongue is the hardest for me to understand," Rhaella said. "I only know the words that Mother speaks."
"Then you know more than us," Davos said looking across to Gendry who chuckled in agreement. "Daenerys always had a way with words."
"Is something the matter, your grace?" Gendry asked as Rhaella went quiet and seemingly noticed that half of the people at the lower tables were glancing at her longer than they were partaking in the feast.
"I've never spent a night away from Mother, and this will be the fifth," she said. She wanted to crawl into Daenerys' bed and cuddle into her arms, but this would be another night that she would be alone, save the wolf; another night where she would cry herself to sleep.
Right as Davos was going to tell her that Daenerys was coming to get her, Jon decided to stop eavesdropping and took his seat in between Davos and Rhaella. The whole room went silent as Jon cleared his throat, "Tonight we are here to celebrate the arrival of my daughter. By the grace of the Lord of Light, your princess has finally come home."
The obnoxious cheers of the Wildlings overpowered the hesitant claps of the Northmen, and it made it seem like more people were genuinely excited than they actually were. Many people wanted to know what Daenerys Targaryen and her child being alive meant for them.
"To the Dragon Princess," Tormund bellowed as he raised his horn. The Wildlings cheered again and enthusiastically raised their horns and glasses. The Northerners followed suit, some more readily than others.
Tormund chucked and made his way to the high table to get a better look at Jon's dragonpup. "Little Crow!" He slapped Jon on the shoulder and shoved his horn into his friend's chest before turning towards Rhaella.
"Look at how fucking beautiful you are," he said as he quickly grabbed under her armpits and lifted her out of the chair. Rhaella let out a squeak that was muffled in his furs as he hugged her. "Fierce like the Dragon Queen. A friend of the Freefolk like her father."
Tormund smiled and set her back down in the chair. He patted her on the head affectionately as Jon offered the horn back, "Keep it. She's too tiny, Little Crow. Giant's milk will make her grow big and strong." Davos chuckled, remembering the story, while Jon looked confused and grimaced at the smell.
"Your grace, Lady Karstark" Alys Karstark said and curtsied in front of Rhaella after Tormund made his way back to the Wildlings. Her eyes sparkled in the same curiosity as when she first laid eyes on Daenerys Targaryen as a child. She opened the top of the box she was holding and let Rhaella peer in. "I hope you like the second part of my gift."
Rhaella took the garment out halfway and tears pooled in her eyes. She didn't know what to say. It looked like the crimson dragon gown at Dragonstone.
"I remember seeing Queen Daenerys after the battle of Winterfell at the feast, and I thought she looked radiant. I tried to make it as best as I remembered it," she said. "I hope you like it, your grace."
"It's perfect," Rhaella said, rubbing the tears out of her eyes. She ran a finger over the three headed Targaryen dragon embroidery on the sleeves. It had never been on anything that was truly her own. "Thank you."
"I had hoped to help Lady Sansa with the Queen's maiden cloak. It was my dream as a girl," Alys said. Jon tensed and avoided her gaze, and Rhaella didn't understand the significance of her words. "It's been years since I practiced, but I managed to get it right."
Rhaella wished Lady Karstark was Jon's sister and not Sansa. The woman looked a bit like Sansa, too, "You're the kindest person from the North."
"You flatter me, your grace. House Karstark is with you," she said with a bow of her head. Sansa rolled her eyes at the display, while Arya smirked. Jon chugged the wine, hoping it would make his guilt disappear.
"Hello, your grace," Gilly said coming up to the table next with her children after Alys. Sam stood awkwardly behind them and tried to look anywhere but at Rhaella. "This is Little Sam and Talla," she pointed to each of the two children. "Talla is your age."
"Hello," Rhaella said politely as she looked the other girl. Talla favored Sam in looks with her dark hair and roundness. The girl also looked as scared of her as her father did. Little Sam seemed indifferent and stared at his feet.
"Maybe, you both can practice your needlework together," Gilly said hoping that the two girls would be friends. She nudged Talla closer to the table.
"I don't sew," Rhaella responded coolly.
"Oh, well maybe you two can play dolls," Gilly tried again. "Talla likes dolls."
"I don't play with dolls or toys, either," Rhaella said. She didn't want to play with Talla, who looked terrified of her. The girl kept trying to take a step back as Gilly nudged her forwards.
"I'm sure there is something they can do together, Gilly," Jon said to ease the tension. The answer seemed to be enough for the woman because she nodded happily and told the children to say goodbye.
"There isn't," Rhaella muttered coldly as she looked at her uneaten plate of food.
While Jon wanted them to be friends, he decided to let it go. He didn't need to add another reason for Rhaella to resent him. Instead he remembered what Davos said about the food as she looked at it longingly, "You've barely touched anything on your plate."
"I'm not hungry," she said as her belly growled with hunger.
In response, Jon took a roll off her plate and tore a piece off. He plopped the bread in his mouth and swallowed, "It's not poisoned Rhaella." He handed it back to her, and she nibbled sparingly along the edges.
"What if the rest of it is?" Rhaella asked, expecting him to put down her fears. There were too many people there that could have put something in the food, despite having taste testers.
"Then I will taste the rest of it," Jon said as he grabbed her plate. "And every meal after, until you feel safe."