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Every Loyalty
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Chapter VII:
The Dragon Queen
Larisa wasn't permitted to pack much, but she didn't rightly care. As long as it meant she was leaving the North. That wasn't the primary reason she had negotiated her place on the voyage to Dragonstone though. There were certain aspects of Winterfell she had grown used to, namely boisterous mealtimes listening to Ser Davos's convoluted stories. There were some things she even had come to enjoy, like the vast library tower and the quiet of the Godswood.
She would be grateful to be rid of the cold. But most of all, she would be rid of all the prying eyes that followed her every move in and out of the keep, reminding her every moment of every day that she didn't, and would never belong here.
That was why, when her chamber door opened to the Lady of Winterfell, she had to hide a superior smile knowing that Sansa would have been the first person to try and change Jon Snow's mind. She wouldn't want to lose her favorite servant.
"Good evening, my lady." Larisa gave an informal curtsey.
"So you'll make it to Dragonstone, and then what?" said Sansa. "Are you going to swim the rest of the way to Casterly Rock?"
Larisa raised a brow. "It would be much easier to ride from the east-most part of the continent to the Westerlands, but I take your meaning."
Sansa pursed her lips. "Be careful. You might have my brother fooled, but I know what you are."
"And what am I?" Larisa challenged. Sansa looked down on her with that cold indifference of hers.
"Loyal to no one but yourself."
Larisa had no time to argue further. Sansa breezed past her and left as sure and rigid as she came in. Larisa leaned against her writing desk and sighed.
Just when we were starting to get along, she thought.
Suddenly feeling stifled in the windowless chamber she had come to call her own, Larisa left and wandered the halls of the keep until she came to the large bridge that overlooked the courtyard below. It snowed lightly, but the wind chilled her down to the bone despite the thick furs she wore.
There was a stillness here that she found unnerving. All the building, training, eating, drinking, fighting and fucking below would continue its cycle for generations. Or it wouldn't; winter would cover this place and had the power to wipe it all away, if it so willed.
"I wondered when our paths would cross."
Startled from her thoughts, Larisa forced her tensed body to relax.
"Too busy stalking Lady Sansa to be bothered with much else, I would think," she said, and turned to Lord Petyr Baelish. "Tell me, what do you intend to gain from whispering in that girl's ear?"
"Lady Sansa is no longer a girl," he replied, with that subtle smile of his that gave away nothing of his thoughts, except for what Larisa knew of him. Not that she had ever crossed him much at King's Landing. But of course, this man's reputation preceded him.
"Of which I'm sure you've taken full advantage." She looked back to the expanse of Winterfell ahead. "Is that why you're still here?"
Baelish gave a more curt smile. "I have pledged for House Stark, same as you."
"An easy decision," she remarked. "Cersei would soon have guessed your hand playing both sides of the chess board. I'm surprised you weren't marked a traitor sooner."
"In that case, we are both traitors, aren't we?" he said. Larisa's lips pursed in annoyance. She had managed to avoid this man for months. Why had he sought her out now?
"And yet you stick out more than I do."
"I wouldn't say that," Baelish cocked his head in mild amusement. "Interesting, that you'll be joining an expedition south. For what purpose, I wonder."
"I would not play your little games here, Lord Baelish," Larisa said, raising her chin. "Jon Snow is neither blind nor stupid."
"No," Baelish agreed, pointedly narrowing his gaze. "He is not."
She hadn't ridden in ages, but ever since she was a girl she'd loved the freedom of it. Along the grassy plains within the territory of Casterly Rock and in the nearby forests, on horseback she could imagine the faraway lands she knew from the books she read. In a small clearing, she saw the dry deserts of Dorne; in a dawdling stream, the immense Rhoyne River that made up the free city of Volantis.
It was the only time her mother chastised her for impropriety, mostly for the twigs in her hair and the dresses she tore and muddied. Also, because a woman never rode astride rather than sidesaddle, and a true lady had no need to ride at all.
But Winterfell had no litters or caravans, so Larisa was grateful for that one defiance when she and Will set off with Ser Davos and Jon Snow to White Harbor. Once they set sail from the port, however, she was reminded of the fact that though she loved the look of the sea, traveling by ship didn't much agree with her.
She now clung tightly to a wide support beam that held up one of the masts and kept her eyes on the blessedly flat horizon. Her brother, damn him, could sleep through just about anything; Willem was already snoring in their shared cabin below decks, exhausted from the days of riding.
Jon Snow nearly passed her across the deck of the ship, but he paused a moment. She thought he was fighting an amused smile.
"What are you doing?" he asked. She also thought it was rather obvious what the hell she was doing, but she was too drained to say so.
"For the moment, your grace, I'm staying upright."
"Aye, I can see that."
Upon closer scrutiny, she could see that he was a bit pale as well, sweating at the temples.
"Have you sailed very much?" she asked.
"No," he admitted, and leaned against the ship's railing. It looked casual, but she knew then it was for his own support.
"Can't say I've enjoyed it much more than you."
She breathed a laugh and joined him at the railing. "In truth, my head is spinning."
They looked out at the bright sun dyeing the clouded sky in dusk colors as it fell on the dark seas.
"I never cared to be out in the open water," Jon said. "Too unpredictable."
"And ranging the far North wasn't?" she asked. He glanced at her with something that wasn't quite a smile. She was reminded of the rumors she had heard, the Bolton men that had spat his name with the mention of Wildlings never far behind.
More tentatively, she said, "Can I ask you something?"
He sighed. "Go on."
"The Wildlings…they fought for you against the Boltons."
"Is there a question in there somewhere?"
"Why would they?" she finally asked. Jon shot her a knowing look, but he answered her anyway.
"I led them south of the Wall."
Larisa had never spared much thought for Wildlings before, but even she had been taught about the men of the Night's Watch generations of feuding with the savages who raided northern villages, pillaging and burning them to ash. There was only one reason she could think of for a man like Jon to even consider allying with his natural enemy.
"Because of the Night King?" she said. Jon nodded.
"His army of Dead need the dead," he said. "White Walkers don't care if it's Wildlings, northerners or southerners."
Larisa still didn't believe in myth or fairytale, but she couldn't pretend the chill running up her spine wasn't because she didn't believe Jon. Why would he go to Dragonstone otherwise? Why else would he ally with Wildlings?
"They've been cutting down your people for centuries. You could have left them to die," she pointed out. He frowned then.
"Most of them did," he said. "And it only fed the Night King's army."
Larisa discreetly watched him as he stared ahead. Despite the bleak future he implied, she couldn't help but smile a little. Before she retired to her cabin, she said,
"You're a kind man, Jon Snow."
Their ship anchored a short ways off from the island of Dragonstone. Jon, Davos, the Lannister siblings, and the four Northmen who accompanied on their journey took a small boat to shore. Ser Davos helped Larisa onto the flat beach, while her brother refused any help and nearly tripped himself ambling out of the boat. Davos patiently hefted him up by the back of his collar.
They were received there by a band of warriors (she could tell from the leather tunics they wore and the scythes they carried instead of broadswords, that they must be Dothraki), a woman Larisa didn't recognize, and one man that she did. Her cousin Tyrion.
"The bastard of Winterfell," he greeted Jon.
"The dwarf of Casterly Rock," Jon returned. Then to Larisa's amusement, they both smiled and shook hands amiably.
"I believe we last saw each other at the top of the wall," Tyrion said.
"You were pissin' off the edge if I remember right." Jon likely noticed, as she had, the long scar that traveled from forehead to right cheek across the dwarf's face.
"Picked up some scars along the road," Jon noted.
"It's been a long road. But we're both still here." Tyrion then glanced behind him and finally locked eyes with Larisa, then Willem.
"Cousins, it's been a long time."
"It has," Larisa held Tyrion's hand warmly. "Good to see you in one piece."
He smirked. "It is, isn't it?"
He then turned to Will, who was likely too young to have many memories of the Imp, save for knowing the name and the less than flattering stories that followed.
"We haven't known each other," he said, "but you have the look of a fine young man."
"Thank you, my lord," Will bowed his head slightly in respect, just as Larisa had taught him.
"Come now. We are family," said Tyrion. "No need to be so terribly formal."
They shared a smile. Tyrion then greeted Davos and introduced the woman next to him as Missandei, a trusted advisor to Daenerys. In turn, Missandei welcomed their party to Dragonstone. However, Jon and the men were forced to surrender their weapons before stepping foot into the keep. Larisa could tell that it irked him to hand over his sword to a Dothraki man while the others took possession of their boat, effectively trapping them on the island. It was to be expected, but it still made Larisa nervous as they started up the beach.
"Where are you from? I can't place the accent," Davos asked of Missandei.
"I was born on the island of Narth."
"Ah. I hear it's beautiful down there. Palm trees and butterflies," he said. "Haven't been there myself."
She only smiled and led their way. Davos hung back and fell into step with Jon and Larisa. Davos raised a brow.
"This place's changed."
Larisa smiled a bit, despite her anxiety. She nearly forgot that Davos had spent quite a bit of time in Dragonstone when Stannis Baratheon held it. She had never been here herself, but it was an impressive stronghold, with several rows of steps leading up to the main keep.
She remained quiet while Tyrion spoke to Jon of Sansa, and she even stifled a laugh when he assured Jon (albeit awkwardly) that their sham marriage was left unconsummated.
"At some point I want to hear how a Night's Watch recruit came to be King in the North," Tyrion added.
Larisa could admit, she would hear that story as well. It would be interesting to hear Jon tell it, all the while wondering what he was glossing over or leaving out. He wasn't much for words; she had a feeling there would be many gaps for her to fill with her own imagination.
"As long as you tell me how a Lannister became Hand to Daenerys Targaryen," Jon returned.
Tyrion nodded. "A long and bloody tale. To be honest, I was drunk for most of it."
"That I could believe," Larisa remarked. Tyrion sent her a smirk.
"The rest, you might not."
"My bannermen think I'm a fool for coming here," Jon admitted to him.
"Of course they do," said Tyrion. "If I was your Hand, I would've advised against it. General rule of thumb: Stark men don't fare well when they travel south."
"True. But I'm not a Stark."
Larisa wondered if he really believed that. One could only be told so many times what you were, supposedly, before you eventually accepted it as truth. And yet, though she had never spoken to Ned Stark, she saw his bearing in Jon so clearly.
A tremendous roar sounded above them, and she was pulled out of her thoughts just as sharply as Jon's hands gripping her shoulders and pulling her down to the ground. She looked up to the sky and lost the breath in her lungs.
A dragon flew overhead.
Its wings spanned what seemed an eternity as its shadow passed over them. Larisa grabbed hold of Will, who trembled just as she was to see its massive head and body and tail in the flesh. A dream and a nightmare come to life.
Missandei, the Dothraki, and Tyrion were more or less unfazed.
The dwarf offered Larisa and Will his hands to help them up, and then to Jon.
"I'd say you get used to them, but you never really do," he said. "Come, their mother is waiting for you."
Soon they were brought before the throne room, another impressive sight cut in sharp, clean lines from stone, the darkness inside tempered with large windows. At the far end of the hall, on a throne carved from that very same stone, sat the silver-haired Targaryen woman.
Missandei rattled off a list of names her queen had acquired through her conquering of slave cities across the Narrow Sea, and with each one Larisa grew more irritated.
When she was done, Jon glanced at Davos, who didn't look as sure of himself as he perhaps ought to have been.
"This is Jon Snow," he said, and after a pregnant pause, "He's King in the North."
Larisa held in a sigh.
"Thank you for traveling so far, my lord," Daenerys replied. "I hope the seas weren't too rough."
"The winds were kind, your grace," Jon said. Though Larisa thought he was the one being kind, too much so, not to correct this would-be queen who failed to call him your grace in kind.
"Apologies," Davos interrupted, "I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know, but Jon Snow is King in the North, your grace. He's not a lord."
"Forgive me—" Daenerys started.
"Your grace," Tyrion said, "This is Ser Davos Seaworth."
"Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did receive a formal education," she said, "but I could've sworn I read that the last King in the North was Torren Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life, and the lives of the Northmen, Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?"
"I wasn't there, your grace," Ser Davos replied.
"No, of course not. But still, an oath is an oath. In perpetuity means…what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?"
"Forever."
"Forever," she agreed. "So I assume, my lord, you're here to bend the knee."
Larisa discreetly looked to Jon for his reaction. He seemed resigned, as he said,
"I am not."
"Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"
Jon, perhaps incredulous at her impetuousness as Larisa was, argued that the Mad King killed his grandfather and uncle in cold blood, would have burned the Seven Kingdoms to ash. But even Daenerys Stormborn could admit her father had been evil.
She only asked that he would not hold her accountable for her father's crimes, and offered what appeared to be a sincere apology on behalf of her house.
And at this Larisa frowned. She knew what his answer would be. He glanced back at her, meeting her gaze for a moment.
"You're right, you're not guilty of your father's crimes," he said, addressing Daenerys. "And I am not beholden to my ancestor's vows."
Slowly the queen's expression fell flat.
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I need your help. And you need mine."
Larisa stood silently while Jon tried to argue their cause, that the coming war from beyond the Wall was bigger than the trifling game against Cersei for the Iron Throne. But Larisa knew from the moment he refused to bow down, that Daenerys would not do so either. He tried to explain the White Walkers, the Night King, but not even Tyrion could hide his blatant disregard for it.
And Daenerys felt he insulted her intelligence to speak of myths becoming real. She stepped down from the throne and the dais to face Jon Snow, until they were mere feet apart.
"The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries before my children were born," she said. "The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will."
Jon didn't flinch at her hard stare. "You'll be ruling over a graveyard if we don't defeat the Night King."
"The war against my sister has already begun. You can't expect us to hold hostilities and join you in fighting…whatever you saw beyond the Wall," Tyrion said.
"You don't believe him," Davos said. "I understand that. It sounds like nonsense. But if Destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North."
Daenerys pursed her lips, but allowed him to continue.
"You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros. He is the first to make allies of Wildlings and Northmen," Davos said. "He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of his birthright, he has no birthright. He's a damn bastard. But all those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader, because they believe in him."
Larisa thought Jon was taking great pains, letting Davos speak so highly on his behalf. She thought he looked uncomfortable with the praise, but knew it was necessary to show this queen that Jon Snow was a worthy ally. And Daenerys, her face was softening somewhat, but still remained calculating.
"All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people," Davos said. "He risked his life for his people, he took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own l—"
Jon stopped him with a look, but Larisa already had raised her head sharply.
"If we don't put aside our enmities and band together, we will die," Davos said finally. "And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne."
"If it doesn't matter then you might as well kneel. Swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys, help her to defeat my sister and together our armies will protect the North," Tyrion implored. She sent her cousin an unimpressed glance. After all this, he expected Jon to kneel?
"There's no time for that," Jon snapped, clearly irritated. "There's no time for any of this! While we stand here debating—"
"It takes no time to bend the knee," Tyrion pointed out. "Pledge your sword to her cause."
"And why would I do that?" Jon demanded. He turned to Daenerys and said, "I mean no offense, your grace, but I don't know you. As far as I can tell, your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name. And my father fought to overthrow the Mad King…the lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them, and I will continue to do so as well as I can."
"That's fair," Daenerys said eventually. "It's also fair to point out that I'm the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring yourself king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion."
Before tensions could rise any further, Varys the spider entered the hall and spoke in whispering tones to the queen. It seemed urgent, and likely was, as Daenerys's face turned grim. She promised them warm baths and an evening meal.
"Am I your prisoner?" Jon asked. Larisa grasped Will's shoulder.
This was part of the reason she had come. She'd known Tyrion to be clever when he wasn't drunk, but for the most part a kind man; he would not serve someone who was cruel to children. But she couldn't be certain of anything until she saw this Daenerys with her own eyes.
"Not yet," the queen tersely replied.
Larisa steered Will by the shoulder as they followed Jon and Davos out of the hall, allowing the queen to confer with her advisors.
"Our Ironborn and Dornish allies were attacked on route to Dorne," Varys said.
"And?" Daenerys asked.
"Three ships escaped. The rest sunk or captured. Ellaria and the Sandsnakes are dead or captured, the Greyjoys dead, or captured."
"All of them?"
Larisa swirled the wine in her glass before she took a sweet sip. "She's arrogant."
Tyrion smiled a little. "She's earned the right to be."
"As did our fathers, and look what happened there." Larisa hadn't had good southern wine in some time; the north wasn't made for it, and she had no taste for ale. But she hesitated over another swig of it. "You really did it, didn't you?"
His eyes held a knowing gleam.
"Why cousin, whatever do you mean?"
"They said you killed Uncle, Tyrion."
To her surprise, Tyrion set down his cup. And suddenly he was not the Imp she had known in her childhood, but a matured man who had known real hardship.
"He sentenced me to death for a crime I didn't commit," he confessed. "And he was fucking the woman I loved."
She was lost for words for a moment, stunned at Tywin's capability. Then she shook her head.
"He was a bastard, wasn't he?"
"But I am sorry, for your father and brother," he said. "Although I heard some…interesting rumors about Lancel's venture into piety."
She looked down at her hands.
"You knew, didn't you?" Tyrion asked. Larisa then raised her head, pursing her lips.
"Don't play coy, you know of what I speak," he pressed.
She refused to meet his gaze, but eventually she said, "If he had listened to me, he might still be alive."
"When?"
"After he was injured at the Blackwater," she admitted. "They found him while he convalesced at the sept, and promised his sins would be forgiven."
"What sins, Lancel? What have you done?" she asked him, begged him to simply tell her the truth before he forsook his own family for whispers in the dark; not even for the true Faith of the Seven, but some off-shoot branch of it.
It was a while before he confided in her. It was painful for him, perhaps as much as the wound in his chest pained him, but then he did.
"I served King Robert his wine. That old drunken fool," Lancel croaked. "I served and served. He didn't know it would be his last drink. The last time he humiliated me."
Larisa's eyes widened as understanding dawned on her. Her eldest brother had committed treason.
"And...and I was with the queen."
"What do you mean you were with the queen? You conspired with her."
"Yes…" But his eyes said that was not all.
For the second time, Larisa came to read his true meaning.
"By the time I knew it, he was already lost," she said. "And yet I couldn't be sorry when he left… What does that make me?"
"Human," Tyrion supplied. She scoffed.
"Perhaps."
"Is it not dangerous for you to call me here?" Tyrion regarded her with some amusement. She nearly rolled her eyes.
"Why cousin, whatever do you mean?" she retorted dryly.
"Surely Jon Snow would be suspicious to hear of a private meeting between Lannisters, considering...your rather delicate position."
"Will he hear of it?" she challenged.
"No," he assured her. "But I admit, I am intrigued."
"Good," she nodded. "Because I have something to ask of you."
