Chapter Seven

As darkness descended around her Daenerys searched the empty sky, desperate for any sight her children; but she knew they were gone. She cradled Jorah's lifeless body in her arms, his chest split open, as blue eyes stared up at her blindly. Looking around them her despair became overwhelming; they were not on a battlefield, but a city street littered with the corpses of women and children as the darkness began to choke her too.

A sob tore from her throat and as she tried to pull him tighter, she woke, heart pounding. Uneasily she rose and crossed to the window; that dream had been as vivid as it was disturbing, and it kept returning. Pacing the room Daenerys tried to banish the images from her mind, had that been what it was like when the doom swept Old Valyria away?

Given that it was nearly dawn she dressed and checked that she was at least presentable before slipping out. She needed to clear her head before the day began, the decisions she had made were difficult for many reasons and she needed her wits about her today; regardless of how much rest she had.

Candlelight glowed from the doorway to the council chamber and she found Jon pouring over a map. Quietly she joined him, a few days ago this man and this map had been her focus; all a part of the plan to meet her goal. But so much had changed.

The pull was still there, but it was fading, or shifting as she began to feel a different call upon her life and recognized a different role in the west. Daenerys had long believed herself to be the last of her family, and responsible for rebuilding their dynasty.

It was not easy to let that go, but looking at Jon left her feeling confused, partially because of what had happened before they knew the truth and because he was Rhaegar's son. Was it wrong to hope some of the good in that man came from her brother?

She liked to think that Rhaegar had been different than Viserys, gentler and kinder, the stories Ser Barristan told had made her hopeful. Jon had been raised by good people; a man who had a reputation of great honor had smudged his to protect her nephew, Jon had been a part of a family. But maybe a little came from Rhaegar, his claim certainly did, though she knew it took more than a claim to the throne to make a good ruler; but he also cared for his people above all.

"Without your forces we can't take the South, I don't know that we could even hold the North." Jon murmured. "The Northern Lords will help you take that throne, but they will want some assurances."

"No." She whispered, the images from her dream flashing through her mind. "I cannot take what is not mine, and Bran is right; it is not just my own life at risk if I ignore the call."

"If we do not remove Cersei Lannister from that throne, she will take all our lives, march those sell swords North and take these lands. The lands thousands of men died to reclaim, died to defend; many of your own in the Great War." Jon looked at her and she saw a hint of frustration in his eyes; that was good, he would spend lots of time frustrated in the future. "I don't care about the title; I don't care about claims; I swore to you."

And his word was his bond, that would serve him well too, he needed to keep his promises. He needed to learn to juggle the needs and wants of the kingdoms and their people, the rich and the poor on a large scale and fast. She had time in Mereen to learn to rule, to learn the political game in a city; Jon must learn it here and now.

"You swore to me as a stranger, as King of the North; we both believed you swore to your rightful Queen. Neither of us knew who you are." Daenerys faced him, he was her blood and he had the strength of the Targaryen house within him. "What was taken from me was taken from you ten-fold because you spent years without knowing what had been stolen; you never knew your family or your birthright. As long as you live, I will not sit on that throne, and I cannot; my life is called to something else; that is why you were born. That is why your identity was revealed."

Jon had grown up in a great house without a name, treated well and with privilege; but never owning it. But he had a name and an inheritance; a great one. He was the last male Targaryen; he was the way for her to fulfill the call placed upon her life and restore her family's honor; there was a way she could do both. But this man needed to lay down the name Jon Snow and take up the name his mother gave him; take the good within himself and give it back.

Her life was called to the dragons, her sons, those of ages past and perhaps those who had yet to be. She did not know what that meant but she believed she knew what would happen if she betrayed that call, her dreams warned of the punishment. They would make her watch it all, watch the doom fall, those she cared for and the innocents who had done nothing to deserve such a fate.

It would be a punishment to fit the crime, the dragons longed for life, for their place in the world restored and had for centuries. She remembered how the eggs had stirred near the heat as she realized they were not stone; her sons begging for their lives to begin. They had called for years and she had not known, they had raised the man they placed in her life and put her in a place to learn of her nephew and of the past; if ignored she knew they would seek revenge.

"I need your word." She knew how Jon valued the promises he made. "When the war is over the Unsullied who wish to retire will, and you will give them homes and land to call their own. To those who wish to return to the East you will give them the ships to do so, and those who wish to continue serving you will have places in your military. Treat them with the same respect you will give any other veteran; any Northman."

"They will not fight for mem they are your men." Jon murmured, his eyes widened with her words.

"I will ask them to, and I believe many will. But I will have your word, I freed them, and they have fought for me, but we cannot even imagine the things that have been done to them; what they've had to do to survive. They will never be chained again." Daenerys stared at him; he had not seen what she had but he would understand the duty she felt to them; he would bear it too.

When the dust settled there would be places for her men, wherever they chose. Already areas on the map were marked where the houses that had held them were gone. She knew there were families in the North which had supported Jon's cause and would be rewarded; but she knew of lands far in the South which might not appeal to the Northerners.

"You have it." Jon promised; his gaze implored her. "Are you truly leaving all of it behind?"

"Ser Jorah is coming with me, as are my children. I must find my way, and you must find yours; you must own these kingdoms. Westeros is your birthright and you are meant to be her King; you will be good for the people." Daenerys pressed her palm to his cheek, he had not grown up hearing of the Iron Throne, or what had been done to his family and maybe that was good.

It did not make it easier to let it go herself. She had poured years into retaking that throne, into learning to be a Queen and how to rule. Now she didn't know what she would be, but she would go knowing she was not alone in this world, a Targaryen would once again sit on the Iron Throne and this one would be just.

Jorah found her in the field with the dragons, Drogon rested his snout on the ground and Daenerys leaned against the creature's cheek; stroking him gently. Rhaegal rested nearby and both dragons looked as content as he had ever seen them, something inside him clicked; she had decided.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the dragons had seen him coming but he did not want to startle her; she looked as though she was soaking in their strength. When she turned to him there was sadness in her eyes as she spoke.

"I have offered my men and my ships to Jon; with them he will claim the Iron Throne." Daenerys told him quietly, her palm resting on Drogon's snout. "I must answer the dragons."

"Do you want to go to Old Valyria Khaleesi?" He asked, he had known that her decision was made by the look on her face; in truth he had known a few days ago.

He suspected he knew where she would want to go, and Jorah certainly knew the risks of the ruined city. But Valyria was where the dragons had thrived for thousands of years, and he knew Drogon had explored it at one time. Somewhere among the ruins they might learn something that would tell them why the great civilization fell; and what happened to the dragons.

It was not easy, she was turning away from something she had long worked for, but he knew there was truth to what she felt called to; he wore the proof of it. Yet she did not do things part way, she had thrown her life into retaking the Iron throne; her focus would turn to learning what it meant to be the dragon's heart. While he would do all he could to support her, others would take a different stance.

"In time yes, dragons belong in the center of the world. But the dragons in Old Valyria perished with the people." She looked at her children. "Those who survived left before the doom; and they must have had help."

He nodded; he wasn't sure where she where her mind was going but he would not push her today, there was enough to be done. Her council wanted to meet, and he suspected it would be time to tell them of her plans.

The rumor of Jon's parentage was beginning to spread, Tyrion had questioned what he knew of it only yesterday; Jorah had wondered if she had not encouraged it herself. Her reluctance to move south and silence let everyone know something had changed; but they waited uneasily to see what would happen.

Jorah left her with the dragons and slipped away, the tales of dragons in the past centered on Old Valyria and the dragon lords who strived to keep their blood pure and their connection to the dragons strong. The knowledge of that great empire had fallen with the city, of dragons and magic among many other things and for centuries those who dared to pass through that smoking sea never returned.

Before the council met, he wove through the halls to find Winterfell's library, he didn't know if there would be any information to help him or not. Jorah had never minded reading, but he was not optimistic that a Northern library would have too much information.

The room held hundreds of books and scrolls, Jorah roamed, taking his time to look at the different books, tucking a few into his arm. When he heard a thud and gasp Jorah turned to find Sam Tarly picking up a several volumes from the floor.

Leaning over he picked up a scroll that had rolled away. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, no. I just wasn't expecting anyone to be around." Sam's words tumbled out as he reached for the scroll. "The library is not the most popular place."

"It is an interesting one." He wasn't surprised to find Sam in here, they had first met at the citadel; the young man's love of reading had a part in saving his life.

"Is there something you're looking for?" The young man asked helpfully.

"I don't know." Jorah did not hesitate to answer out of distrust, but it was hard to explain what exactly he hoped to find; something of an ancient city, dragons or magic. He was hoping he would know it when he saw it. "Have you come across anything from the East?"

Sam paused and then turned, leading him between the shelves to a different section, pulling down a volume that would be more than enough to keep him busy. The next several hours were spent skimming the text, there were many mentions of magic and even a few slight attempts to explain certain elements; Jorah read it even if he didn't buy it.

Magic was real, he'd witnessed too much to question that, but centuries had passed, and magic faded; many doubted. They could not find the true source and so tried to dismiss mystical powers with natural explanations, dissecting the stories of those who witnessed the unexplained or relegating them to children's stories.

The North had witnessed the truth of a legend every child heard; it had come at a high cost. What had happened to him could not be ignored either, too many had witnessed it; and there was no answer but magic. Though whispers already spread that he had not died, he'd been left injured in the snow and grown too cold, or been dismissed as gone by a woman who did not know what a man could survive; they were afraid to admit that he could not be explained.

It was a good thing few had seen the mark he wore, it had changed with time, but it did not fade. No longer and angry red it had faded to a deep purple hue but the details had become precise and it seemed as though the mark itself responded to forces around him. Jorah was glad it was easily covered, hiding his reaction at times was more difficult, the whole of his chest ached when it became inflamed; he'd woken to it early this morning and been unable to do anything but wait for it to pass.

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I am glad you are enjoying this story and I hope it keeps your interest.