The Court of Bastards

by MariDark

Stannis takes Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen from her mother's dying arms and raises her as his ward. The New King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, decides that her fate is to wed with shame, making her family line continue in disgrace by pairing her to his friend's bastard, Jon Snow, despite Eddard Stark's initial refusal.

10. Daenerys III

The fourth time her moon's blood arrived since it begun, Dany had not been expecting it. She thought she ought to be expecting their child already, but on the morning of their leaving her undergarments were stained red and Lady Marya sighed in relief when entering her room. Though motherhood seemed distant and terrifying, Dany thought it'd be what was expected of her. An heir would secure their hold in the future, would lay a foundation to their starting reign.

"You are too young, my dear," Marya tucked a stray lock of fair hair behind her ear. Marya was beautiful. Dany hoped to one day be as stunning as the woman who taught her kindness. The family she had, the simple and fulfilling life filled with laughter and picnics in the flower fields was everything Dany could ever hope for herself and hers.

"But I am a grown woman now." The reply felt weak and unfitting, and Marya's sad gaze increased the feeling tenfold.

"Oh, Princess," Melisandre said, small smile aimed at Dany. "How we wish you were so."

Dany thought wise not to comment.

The morning went by listlessly as if a thick fog slowed everything around her. Each object loaded being registered by her lethargic mind with faint numbness. Her clothes were stored, her utensils and various presents disappeared from her sight as she moved out with Lady Maria and Melisandre. Exiting her room, Dany caressed the red door her husband so painstakingly painted for her. Jon wanted her to have a taste of home in a place she'd never set foot before, and here she was leaving it not one month after. He mustn't have thought they'd leave so quickly. She admired it for a moment longer, until Lady Melisandre called for her and she had to turn away, a silent goodbye to the place that had given her and her husband privacy and intimacy for the first time.

The halls were busy, people fleeting every way and the other, skipping around with careful but hurried steps as they approached the guest quarters given to Lord Stannis. Dany thought it was only fair Jon had a last lone meal with his relatives before moving away from his childhood home, so she let him be and called for her own patchwork family.

The solar given to Lord Stannis had been full of trinkets and parchments over the last moon. Offerings and gifts given by many, papers and scrolls filled with contracts signed and to sign the same as their large pool of samples were given as proof to those to depart. All dignitaries had been present in the solar, with all kind of manners from all over their known world, from the far lands of the Golden Empire to merchants that had travelled the whole world. Dany had met here with people who'd ignored her for a great part of her life, like Ser Kevan of House Lannister. In such a solar, alliances were forged and statements of power were made clear. Jon had been relentless when negotiating, in his cold and quiet way.

"Greetings, m'ladies!" Now, the place was emptied by all but a simple and long wooden table presented with a great feasting. Ser Davos' greeting was more of a grunt, as he was trying to get his young son to let go of his neck. Lady Marya sighed in usual exasperation but Dany ignored her, beaming widely as she ran to hold the younger boy in her own arms.

"A fine morning to you, Ser!" she laughed alongside the boy, who threw himself into her hold and freed his father. The other babes squealed in mutual greeting, pudgy hands grabbing at nothing as they tried to reach her. The one who could walk grabbed her fine travel skirt while the other remained on a little rug, watched by Dany's own grumpy cousin. Lady Selyse was nowhere to be seen. Dany felt Shireen's absence acutely, so much it hurt.

It is only you that is missing, my beautiful heart sister. Dany twirled around the little boys, stopping beside her lord cousin to greet him with a kiss on his short bearded cheek. He grimaced and she fully ignored it, moving to sit at the chair to his right. They all arranged themselves while Dany let Devan sit beside her. She took a moment to look at her family, not by blood but so dearly loved. Ser Davos was sitting by Lord Stannis' left, profusely thanking him for allowing the presence of his rowdy boys in such a private setting. Lady Melisandre was drinking beside him, side-eyeing the little Stannis with curiosity as Lady Marya handled Steffon, the baby, with a cooing voice.

They ate, spoke and laughed with each other under the careful watch of Lord Stannis. Careless for a few short moments in a morning meal with the bittersweet aftertaste of a goodbye. Lady Marya could barely hold herself together each time she looked at her husband, who she'd part with for Gods knew how long again, and then she'd look at Dany and the young lady felt lost at what to say, what to do. She'd have Melisandre, Lord Stannis and Davos for about another year until Jon was sixteen and legally ready to hold his title as Lord. She'd be alone then, but hope was ever growing in her young heart that by then she'd find more friendships and family in the new faces surrounding her.

They stayed in the little solar for long — or, what seemed to be a long time. Soon, a servant knocked gently on the door. Their warning was simple but it shook her to her core, making it hard to get up from her chair on her own while her family got up on their feet. Stannis' warm and strong hand was kind as he offered help. Taking the proffered hand, Dany gulped, never straying her gaze from the deep blue eyes that were there for her since her very first memory.

She accepted it, getting up on her feet. Lady Melisandre moved close, lacing her arm with hers as they walked out into the corridors.

Dany squeezed the woman's arm as Lord Stannis passed ahead of them. They were left alone, walking calmly and in no hurry. They watched the family walking in front of them, the children free of any worries, unbothered by the trials of life under the loving care of simple parents, not ever knowing the difficulties their orders went through. Dany remembered Ser Davos' tales of when he lived in Flea Bottom, a street rat that survived one day at a time, unsure of the next. He had built his life so those who he loved wouldn't have to go through what he had, he built his life and took his chances and here they were, with titles and long lives ahead of them.

If Stannis hadn't taken her, if she had escaped with her brother lost in Essos, would she had to do the same? Live on the streets or be the esteemed guest in one rich and powerful house, ready to be used for her claim to a throne usurped?

Would she have made it? With her soft hands, fanciful dresses and many escapades and easy personality. Would Dany have made it?

"What is it that troubles your mind, Princess?"

Snapping her gaze to the woman, Dany frowned in disapproval.

"Do not use such titles when referring to me, Lady Mel." She looked at the busy corridor, filled with many servants, each with different loyalties unknown to them at first glance.

"Ah." The woman was amused, eyebrows arching and a sly curve to her lips that told Dany she did not care for the listening ears around them. Probably thought her Lord would protect them from the lowly humans that wished harm upon His Chosen One. Dany wondered what the Red Woman would say about Ramsay's illustrious spies following each step and breath she took. "If my lady wishes it so."

No matter, she thought, smiling lovingly at the woman. Dany would protect her if ever needed. Though, she doubted Lady Melisandre needed any protection when she stood beside Lord Stannis, as sad as it was. Once he left for Dragonstone, Dany worried dearly for his mind. Each day, he was closer and closer to Melisandre, and though he did not reply to or acknowledge her preaching, he did not actively defy it like he once did.

"Why won't you follow Lady Selyse?" The question was harmless, and it burned on the back of her mind for a while now. Melisandre had always been primarily of Lady Selyse's personal household and had never strayed too far from the woman. Now, she was willing to spend a full year and a few moons away from the bitter lady.

Melisandre stopped walking, turning to look down at her. Dany indulged her, earnest and trusting as a child to their mother. The older woman cradled her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks as she smiled softly at her.

"I shall not leave you, Daenerys, as long as you wish me by your side. " Dany almost smiled back, but she had first to ask what had always made her hesitate to believe the affection Melisandre showered her with.

"Because I am your Chosen One. " Her gaze fell down, disappointment clear. "Your Princess that Was Promised."

Melisandre nudged her face up, crouching slightly so she could be level with her.

"Because I watched you grow. " The kiss she left upon her brow was ablaze with love and affection, making Dany's heart grow twice its size and her lips widen in a beautiful grin. "And you are family to me."

Dany believed her wholeheartedly.

•••

Walking out into the courtyard, the summer sun blinded her for what felt like centuries. She blinked, eyes focusing on the carts, wheelhouses and hundreds of people fluttering around the place. Her heart seemed to expand three times its sizes in her chest. Her own throat seemed to turn against her, making it difficult to breathe as nervousness took control of her young body. One, two, three steps into the crowd and Daenerys was never more grateful for the support of her guardians — her family — surrounding her as they walked towards her beautiful white mare. She helped Lady Maria with putting her children into their small cart, chatting quietly with the loud boys.

Mud splattered everywhere and voices were boisterous and demanding as servants brought an endless stream of baggage and chests, their masters ordering in numerous languages for this or that to be done. All that activity was strange to witness in a place as peaceful as Winterfell. The castle's brooding appearance was at odds with the colourful mismatching of the different personalities temporarily residing in it. Mayhap the reason for Lord Stark to remain behind in his home was to see it returned to its peaceful and quiet stage. His wife and family had been awfully rattled with the wedding and the short but busy weeks the guests remained there. Dany often wondered what her wedding would be called, what people would write about the last Targaryen princess.

A monumental meeting that brought foreigners to the far and desolate North? A tragedy that put an end to the rich lineage of House Targaryen with bastard blood? A revolutionary start to an era of change and progress to the stubborn Northern ways? A blasphemy of a marriage that disrespected the Pact of Ice and Fire made centuries ago?

Dany had no idea and had no way of knowing what people around her thought of what had happened here. Maybe Ramsay could tell her, maybe Jon would know of what his father thought. Lord Stannis and Ser Davos and Marya and Melisandre; all of them could say and think and perhaps guess, but how could they know for sure?

The future seemed vast and dark now that she stood beside her Silver. She was ready to go. A heavy and sturdy cloak rested on her shoulders, a loose hood just waiting to be pulled up if snow dared to fall from the skies. Her boots were thick, and her travelling clothes adequate to go on horseback. She was dressed in grey and black, a mixture she had been becoming fond of in the past days.

If her Jon had his white and her red colours, she'd keep his grey and her black.

Lord Stannis and Ser Davos continued on without them, marching directly toward Lord Stark, who'd be sending his brother back North, and at least a hundred of his men, accompanying Jon, Robb and the Crow. Lady Marya caressed her hair, playing with a few stray tendrils from her long braid. They embraced tightly.

"I wish you'd go with us," Dany whispered into her chest, her hands holding tight to the plump woman. She breathed in deep, hoping to remember her homely scent and holding tight to the tears that came to her eyes. "I'm so scared, Marya…" Dany whispered, so quietly she hoped Marya wouldn't hear.

"Oh, my lil' dragonfly. " Marya's voice was strong as it had always been, but there was a softness to it that Dany had yet to witness. Her shoulders shook, her breath hitched. Marya and the boys would go back to their home. Lady Selyse was to part with them at once. Her own remaining guardians would leave in a year's time. Dany was terrified. "You're a dragon, now, you know tha'?" Her accent was thick as the emotion in her voice was more and more evident. Tears were flowing freely as she smiled down at Dany.

"Aye," she smiled, pressing her cheek against the callused hand caressing her .

Marya smirked. "A true Northerner." Dany chuckled, putting her hands on the woman's mouth and looking around, checking for any outside listeners.

"Do not let them hear you!" She whispered, giggling like the girl she truly was. "I shall never be accepted otherwise!" Marya smiled widely, taking her hands.

"And what a shame would tha' be!" They laughed together, coming to a slow halt as Marya held tightly to her hands. Suddenly shy, Dany looked down at the beautiful, hardworking hands, with darker skin and many more scars than her own. Marya touched her chin, two fingers nudging her eyes up. They remained in silence as life passed by, pulling them away from each other. "Promise to remember me?"

How could it ever be possible to forget love?

She licked her lips, squeezing the hand that held hers.

"If my memories were taken away, if I were stripped of who I am, still…" She smiled at her, tears shining in her eyes. "I would never forget you."

Marya's lips twitched. "You'll forget this old woman as soon as you see your pretty boy."

They laughed and Dany threw herself into her arms, hugging the woman fiercely. She'd miss her big heart and kind smile. Even though they'd met few times in her life, Marya was as important to her as the made-up figure of her blood mother. Dany didn't know how to cope with a future without her, or the boys who were crying for her in their small cart, or Ser Davos who arrived and waited patiently for them to end their goodbyes.

"Tell them I love each and every one of them," the Targaryen whispered brokenly into the woman's ear, closing her eyes as Marya tightened her embrace. "I cannot bear to say goodbye. Not to them."

"They know." The answer was simple but impactful, bringing a new round of tears to her eyes. "A loving sister like you can't be forgotten easily, eh?" Dany withheld a sob, pulling away and stepping back. A chuckle still escaped her as she watched Marya remain behind, Ser Davos putting an arm over her shaking shoulders. Devan was in the cart behind them with his crying siblings, looking at her with huge dark eyes. Dany looked away, turning her back to the image of a family she dreamt of. The little boys' cries were swallowed by the crowd around them and Dany let her tears fall silently.

She gasped, one hand hastily dragging the tears away as she stared at the cloudy sky. She grabbed the reins of her Silver and moved him away, closer to the gates and away from her past.

Staring at the gates, lost, she waited for her husband and Lord Stannis to lead the way out. Feeling crowded, she mounted her Silver and looked around her. Goodbyes were said and people looked impatient as they readied for leaving. Jon appeared beside her upon a great black mount, staring at her tears for a moment before offering his hand in silent support. She hesitated, a blush coming up her cheeks the same as his as she accepted it. His frown was heavy, but he chose to not speak of it and she thanked him silently for it.

Instead, Jon turned his Stark eyes to the crowd in silent watch and she took the opportunity to admire his profile with a smile.

One of the boys that were always close to either him or her nowadays stepped close to Jon, whispering quietly into his ear when he bent low so the boy could reach him easily. She tightened her hold on his hand, calling for his attention. He looked back at her with a small, but excited, smile.

"Lord Stannis is coming." Dany grinned back at him.

"I am nervous," she whispered with a sweet note to her words.

He looked at Siro, who shrugged and moved back into the waiting crowd.

Jon's answer was quiet and hesitant, a small smile to his lips. "Don't be, my lady." He smiled, wide and rare and wholesome. "We are going home."

Lord Stannis passed them, giving them barely a glance as the gates were opened. He called forward for them to move, but Dany ignored him, focusing on Jon. He nodded back. They looked ahead, going forward.

•••

As a Southerner, she'd never been welcomed anywhere in Winterfell. In the crypts housing the Kings of Winter millenniums past, that feeling was multiplied.

Cat had been patient, had been silent of her husband's damned secret. She had let little affect her as the weeks passed and the Targaryen boy would have to go. She'd done what no courtly lady should and pried into her husband's life and business like a mere spy, trying to find proof or even a clue of what had happened. She had thought her husband did not know how to lie, that he only hid things away from her. She was wrong — so terribly wrong — and she'd be damned if she'd believe in him again.

The dark tunnels swallowed her as she moved forward and forward and forward, searching for the one she knew her husband had taken the Targaryen to in the previous night. What had he been thinking? What was to it that he had dragged the boy down here? Did Ned know they were at high risk? Lord Stannis may have been dubious in his loyalty that first night, but Lord Renly was enamoured with his kingly brother and would claim for the whole family's head if he got wind of the past Ned so desperately wanted to hide.

She'd given her farewells to their guests, had behaved and performed her duties as was expected of her, and now she stood before the peaceful face of Lyanna Stark. It, the statue, seemed accusing. She pictured Arya looking down at her with judging eyes, telling her she did not belong, that she was no true Stark.

That image, more than anything else, made her both wrathful and full of sorrow.

"You shunned your duty for a man." Speaking to the dead was not something she'd done much or enjoyed at all, but she needed to do this. Catelyn felt herself drowning because of what the girl had done since Brandon had died. And now she knew that nothing should've happened if that girl hadn't been a spoiled little brat. "Did you think no other girl ever dreamt of being something else?" Cat took a step forward, the image of Lyanna changing more and more into Arya and Ned and Jon and Benjen and Brandon… "Did you think yourself so special as to be the only one to ever want to be something other than a wife?"

The snap and crack of the lit torches were her only answer, and it only served to fuel her rage. That girl had given herself away to a fairytale, falling prettily on the lap of a dragonspawn sat in a throne mounted on top of corpses upon corpses, the very first at their bloodied feet being those of Cat's own first love and his father. Cat had denied even her love her maidenhead, couldn't she do the same? King Robert could be the greatest brute, father to countless bastards as he was, but he was Lyanna's duty. And oh, how Brandon had spoken of the girl's spoiled tantrums. It was always 'I don't want to marry' or 'I don't want a dress'. It was always 'I don't want', and she'd always have her way with whatever she desired. Lyanna had as many horses as she could, as many sword lessons from her brothers as she wanted, as much freedom as she could ever want in the North.

"And yet, you could not just accept a no," Catelyn shook her head, lips pressed in deep, deep, disappointment. "You couldn't stop yourself from getting only what you wanted." She gritted her teeth, staring into those stone eyes that had a resemblance to her Arya. "You wanted and wanted and wanted but never thought—" The lady turned away from the Stark visage silently watching over her, unable to defend the girl it pictured. One hand rose to cover her lips, and she noticed its slight tremble. Fisting it, she let it fall beside her and glared at the silent visage of Lyanna Stark. One finger dug deep into her chest as she spat to it. "We Tully girls never gave ourselves away. We were dutiful!" She gasped for air because even of that she wasn't sure anymore. What had little Lysa been up to? She did not know, and something inside her refused to. "I let my love go to save you! Your own father pledged for you and your brother! Ned proclaimed war for you! We were worried about you!" She paced before her, not once moving her gaze away. Finally, she stepped closer, her words ending with a shrill. "You were our martyr!"

How many families torn asunder by this girl's romance? How many good men gave their limbs and sanity for a girl to become queen? Rickard Stark's terrible massacre was overshadowed by his own daughter's lies. How many babes left alone for this girl to have her own little prince? What was the price of war? Did she think of it? Did she ever stop to see what common sense made obvious? The man had a wife. He had children.

How can someone discard a family away like that?

Gasping for breath, Catelyn shook in the cold crypts. The air itself felt heavy, making it hard to breathe. She saw nothing more than the shapeshifting face of Queen Lyanna of House Targaryen. A now dead and never known queen who had done nothing extraordinary in her life other than start a war that brought destruction to the Riverlands again. A lying girl that left only death in the wake of her own happiness. They chose to lose it all while loving like damned fools. All for love, a ruined love that didn't stop at their own lives, eating at the whole kingdoms and each of their families. All ravaged by what must have been a fool's desire, an all-consuming feeling that took away their thinking. What else could drive someone so?

"You saw chivalry and an enchanted man, someone better than your intended and then run away with him. Didn't you ever wonder why you were promised? Didn't you ever think of what'd happen with your family?" She hoped that she could hear her. Cat hoped Lyanna heard her, wherever she was. She hoped she saw her mistakes. She hoped she felt the pain and disgrace her poor decisions had provoked. "A married man, a father of two." She shook her head. "And then…" Bitter chuckles escaped her, shoulders sagging and eyes closing as she took a step back. "And when you died alone, you still dared to give your boy the same name as that man's son…" She looked down with a heavy frown. "And you dared to give that boy to Ned…" The bitterness grew sharper, colder as the Winter her husband proclaimed to come. She glared at her innocent figure. "You dared to chain him with promises to protect your Targaryen son." She held her head high. Her chest felt lighter and lighter as her mind raged with words and accusations, unable to forget the pain that the dead woman she spoke to spread with her youthful devotion to an older man. "Ned made him a Snow." She pursed her lips, felling petty, but light-hearted for the first time since Ned revealed his secrets. "I am sure you know what that means."

Turning her back to the statue, Catelyn stepped towards the exit but stopped when she heard the faint sounds of footsteps. The lady froze, staring into the dark tunnels with a growing feeling of dread.

"Ned?" In the silence, no one answered her inquiry but the sound of footsteps, quicker and quieter than before.

Her world fell.

Breathing hard, she lost no time in running out. In those few seconds, her stomach dropped, her heart hammered in her chest. The darkness of the crypt mocked her as if the dead were punishing her for entering grounds where she did not belong. The shadows grabbed at her, caressing her. Her children's ancestors laughed at her, condemning. The frigid air was pressing, and at the top of the stairs leading back to the courtyard, before the sunlight blinded her, she saw a figure calmingly going out.

All quietened around her. Her vision went pure white, the purest she'd ever seen. In that purity, she saw the fall of dynasties. She saw her heir dead, her daughters stripped of their dignities and her sons chained to greedy men and her husband crowned a traitor. Her vision was filled in red, a dark red that was unmistakable. If that silhouette escaped, she'd lose it all. She would lose it all to her own pride, her own fears.

This was Punishment, and it would be her end.

The contrast — whoever that figure was, it was so composed and sure of its escape — was drastic against her own desperation, running up the stair and holding her dress up so high she had no doubt her thighs could be seen. Catelyn gasped, cried out for it to stop. How much had it heard? How much could it tell? Who would it tell? Catelyn could already see war in their path should someone had really been listening to her. What would Ned say?

He trusted me! He finally trusted me! She could not let that trust be for nothing. She could not betray her family like this.

The way up seemed never-ending, tiring and destroying. Sunlight blinded her, making her fall at the entrance with a cry. Her hands prevented her from falling face first, mud staining her dress. She was sweating, her auburn hair glued to her face. Everything was loud and she ignored the pain to look up, blindly searching for someone.

The faces of the parting crowd met her. Nobles and merchants turning their noses up at her, looking with pity or disgust or curiosity as they moved out of her home. The Lady Stark on her knees, covered in mud and shouting like a madwoman for a ghost that would haunt her dreams for years. She called for it, got up on her feet and searched, asked. She searched for something telling of whoever had listened to her words — had someone listened to her? — but nothing and no one gave away any useful answer.

Her guards had caught sight of her, tried to ask for whatever had caused her harm, but she could not tell them. Not once did she stop looking.

"Mother! Mother!" Sansa's voice filtered through the fog of her desperation. The world tilted, her mind fragmented and she looked down at her eldest daughter to meet a face that had as much of a Stark as her husband and the statues down the crypt, filled with Tully colouring but the same look as Lyanna Stark once had. The look of a dreamer. "Mother?" She took a step back, startled with the dawning realization of what she had done.

She looked back at the fading crowd, and finally, a familiar face met her stare.

Ramsay Snow looked at her from atop his grey steed, ignoring the chatting whore at his side. His clear eyes disturbing and his face blank. In his eyes, Catelyn finally saw the judgement Lyanna could not show, an answer that her statue could not give in its lacking of life. He tilted his head, eyes raking over her form before a wide grin settled on his lips. The mud covering her form finally registered her mind, and she felt as if it burned every inch of skin it touched. His face was as mocking as ever, elated in seeing her dirtied and humiliating herself like she was the mad one. The bastard nudged his great beast forward and the crowd parted for him, ignoring her hard glare. He disappeared, out towards his master.

She hoped he never came back.

"My lady?"

"Did someone enter the crypts after me?" She finally answered back, breathing hard as she snapped her eyes towards the guard. "Answer me!"

He flinched away from her, gazing at the ground. "No, my lady."

She looked at the other guards and they shook their heads. Blue eyes begged the sentinels upon the walls, and yet they denied it. None had seen whoever had entered the crypts after her.

Sansa held her sleeve tightly, no doubt worried for her, but Catelyn couldn't bring himself to look back at her daughter. Moving out of her grip, Cat stepped towards the slowly closing gate. Standing alone, Cat kept eyeing the distancing crowd until the great gate closed, leaving her stranded alone with the fear that the Old Gods and Lyanna Stark had just condemned her for the cruelty she'd given to a dead girl and her son. The lady could not and would not ever tell her husband. Could not tell him what she wasn't sure of. All she heard were footsteps. All she saw was a silhouette. There was no proof. She couldn't put that kind of fear into her husband's mind.

Perhaps she had imagined it all.

•••

The sky was clear but her heart felt nothing of it.

The Summer felt oppressing. Stifling with its vibrancy, a pretended bliss that swallowed them all in complacency. The environment was uncaring for the sadness in Dany for having to leave behind her family. It was opposite to the storm that raged in her mind, full of longing for her past but also impatient for what it was to come.

With part of her family left behind, they moved forward through the clear early morning, a party of hundreds close behind as they walked the Kingsroad. A few of the ladies from the East moved to give her company and Sarella hurled through them with her red sand steed without a care. Her friend stopped at her right side, a cheeky smirk on her lips and eyes glinting in a way similar to her father. Her steed was a glorious thing, a parting gift from her family since the girl had left her dream behind to follow Dany. It broke the young lady's heart at the same time that made her deeply suspicious of whatever Doran had planned. It was no secret that they were thick as thieves, but for how much she loved Sarella, Dany knew her friend would turn her back as soon as her family ordered it.

Such was the power of blood.

"There was a ruckus back there. Something involving the Lady Catelyn," she said at first. Lady Catelyn? Dany bit her lip, unsure of what could've happened that would make the unflappable Lady Stark cause a ruckus. "Nymeria bolted out of here like she had hellhounds after her," Sarella sneered, huffing in annoyance. "Didn't bother to talk at all. She is not a good sister." Her friend was not being completely truthful with her, she could notice.

"Lady Stark is not so easily scared," she spoke lightly, gaze moving to the young heir of House Stark talking with a few merchants' sons in a nearby wheelhouse.

"This time, she was shitting herself, I swear. 'was searching for someone, covered in mud and white as a sheet." Sarella shuddered. "She looked absolutely mad like she'd seen a ghost. Or a dragon. Or a witch. Or a demon. Or worst."

"Funny that you put dragons so low on your list of worries," she quipped, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. It was baffling that the illustrious lady would act so uncourtly, witnessed by so many in such a critical moment for the House she married into. She had said her tearful goodbyes to her son, Dany had seen it, and had parted with the ladies and lords of remarkable names with perfect poise.

Sarella smirked. "They dead, 've no worry 'bout them flying lizards."

She responded in kind. "And ye demons 're true everyday sights. At least dragons were real." Dany absolutely did not let her temper and passion for her House's legacy get to her, focusing on the information her friend shared. "Mayhap she was attacked?" Sarella shrugged, leaning dangerously close to her. Her sand steed was unaffected by her antics, keeping to the path. A true daughter of Oberyn Martell, that one.

"You seem bothered," the Sand asked, sly and curious as ever. Dany debated telling of her grievances — leaving family behind, anxiety over her castle, what would her people think —but decided to divert her attention elsewhere.

"Not as much as you, I am sure," she looked at her by the corner of her right eyes. Sarella's visage remained the same, uncaring and unwilling to show what she truly thought. It made Dany smile in fondness for the girl. "Oldtown has always been your dream."

She didn't answer and Dany did not wait for it, knowing that melancholy would be heavy in the girl's heart through her decision to follow duty. Though she was there as an agent of her Prince, Sarella had always shared Dany's dream of forging their chains of knowledge. The darker girl had a passion unmatched even by her own father when it came to the unknown. She had always wanted and made the Citadel her goal, not ever ever a dream as Dany had. Her gender was nothing in the face of knowledge, and she had no problem in living as a man to do it so. Since Dany first met her, Sarella had no care if called a male or female.

"There's still time," she finally said, eyes fixed on the path ahead.

Dany blinked away her slight shock, smiling — so much her eyes wrinkled — at her friend even if she would not turn to see. "I'll learn many things, see the world outside of pages and words and even then…"

Hope was a beautiful thing to witness.

"There's still time," she completed along with her, making her turn and look at her wide-eyed. Dany smiled again, wider, and Sarella finally chuckled, shaking her head.

"Ah, Daenerys." Her tone of voice was lighter, genuine. It made Dany calmer to know her friend had finally let her face away, speaking freely without the intent to listen carefully and report. "You are the light in any boy's life, this I promise you." The lady bit her lip, tilting her head to stare curiously at the other girl.

"Oh, I thank you, good sir!" Dany laughed at her, not a drop of meanness in the way she exhaled fondness for her.

She rolled her eyes hard, in that way Sarella always did to show how stupid those surrounding her were.

"Don't be so full of yourself, dragonbreath." The nickname sparkled fond memories of their times together in Myr when Dany tried as many treats as she could, her breath a mingle of scents at the end of the day that was truly terrifying. Dany waited, patient as ever to listen even as she still chuckled a bit. "But that is not what I meant. What I mean is..." she nodded towards the figure of Dany's husband ahead of them, speaking with the General Pol, Ser Davos and Ser Aurane. Anguy and Siro were close, with Ramsay and Satin nowhere to be seen since they were still in Winterfell. "That boy should kiss the ground you walk on and worship you." Sarella turned to her, eyes raking over her form. "In every way possible."

Dany shook her head, exasperated.

"He is a dutiful husband," she allowed that admission.

"And…?" Dany wanted nothing more than to relieve the heavy weight of her worries on Sarella. She wanted to lay down her problems and free herself of all the self-doubt and uncertainty that haunted her. But she was a lady, and she was not alone with those she could trust implicitly. Her eyes sought Lady Melisandre, but no vibrant shade of red caught her attention and it only made Dany feel lonelier.

"And nothing." She set her jaw, lifted her chin and hoped she did not look as childish as she felt. Sarella hummed beside her, that curious glint in her eye that warned troubled and Dany pursed her lips in slight worry for what it promised. Dany looked the other way, to the distancing castle of Winterfell.

It was then that she saw Ramsay's figure, coming beside her without noticing, staring unseeingly ahead. Blinking, Dany nudged her Silver closer to him, moving away from the prodding questions of her friend. Sarella threw a knowing look at her back, chuckling loud enough for Dany to hear.

"You were gone for long," she said in way of greeting him. Ramsay blinked, turning his neck to her slowly. Dany refrained from flinching away from him when his empty eyes finally met hers. Instead, she braved on at his side, looking at him in the eye. Dany blinked. "Is there a problem?"

For a breathless moment, Ramsay stared at her, unseeing and uncaring as he directed his blank eyes ahead. Dany did not look to see what had caught his attention, too entrapped by the diverse emotions that passed through his face. The air felt heavy as he pondered, breathing hard and nostrils flaring and fists tight on his reigns. A dark thing wanted to crawl out of him and swallow everything, and he battled with it tirelessly in the shadows of his eyes. When he smiled at her, eyes wide and teeth showing, it looked like he had eaten alive whatever demons he fought with.

"No. Not one."

Dany shuddered, and Ramsay sped up, his great grey beast closing in Jon's space. For that, Ser Davos was unceremonious pushed away by the lad and the man fell back with no complaints. Jon proceeded to furiously whisper with his manservant. Dany observed quietly, nodding to the Ser when he fell back to travel beside her.

"That one is trouble." A fair warning, she knew, but nothing she didn't know herself. How Jon could be so close to such a volatile boy, and how even she could get so friendly with him, was a mystery.

"You get used to him," she replied with a weak defence of her ally. It was him, after all, that told her what Jon wouldn't. If not for Ramsay, she wouldn't know much about Catelyn. The boy insisted in either telling her himself or not caring for her presence when Jon was with her.

"Not too used, I hope." He licked his lips, worry clear in his eyes as she turned to him. "I hope you do not turn to him as often as your husband. I hope you don't turn at all like your husband did after that boy's involvement in his life."

Dany frowned. "I thought you liked Jon." He had told her so. He had been relieved to see the boy treating her well.

"I do. Or did," he coughed, looking anywhere but her. Dany shook her head, not understanding his sudden change. She halted her horse, and Davos made the same a bit ahead of her. Looking guilty at her figure. Dany frowned at him, a glare telling him to elaborate. "Hm, you see, five days… five days back, when Jon and some lords went to town…"

She pursed her lips, jerking her reigns so her Silver would resume moving. "I remember." Ser Davos was quick to follow, falling into step beside her.

"Well, he came back and before their return, Stark's guard returned with a prisoner of House Targaryen with a crushed finger and knee." Breathless for a moment, she snapped her gaze to Davos, who looked down at her with sad eyes. She had never heard of a prisoner taken under her House's name. "The man was taken out of the cells the next morning, but I managed to speak with Ser Rodrik, his uncle." He nodded to a man who remained close to Robb.

"The master-at-arms?"

"Yes. And the man who cleaned all of the mess Jon and Ramsay did in the short months they stayed in Winterfell these years." Davos pursed his lips, shaking his head in clear disgust that broke Dany's heart. His gaze was fixed upon her husband and guard. "Running around Wintertown, destroying property, invading houses, frequenting brothels." His voice got quieter and more rushed, and Dany listened with wide eyes, even detecting a hint of admiration in the smuggler's voice. "And the boy, your husband, is prone to have attacks, I hear."

"Attacks?" Dany felt fear crawling up her spine, Joffrey's damned cackles echoing in her ears. Her mind came up with the disturbing image of green eyes reflected upon Jon's kind greys, and it made her want to throw up. He knew so much of her, but what did she know about him? He'd always been quiet, always been silent while she poured the most intimate parts of her to him.

"Yes. He can't stand dirt, is always ordering places clean, walks around like he owns the place. Some houses are cleared when he is in one of his moods, some streets must be emptied. His guards let no one approach and many have seen him holding his own neck as if to choke himself, shaking like a leaf." Davos shook his head, fidgeting on his mount. He looked sad. "And then there was the vendor he took a beating to. Broke his finger twisted and put a dagger to his knee, and sent him to the dungeons in Castle Black."

Dany shook her own head desperately, whispering furiously. "Cousin Stannis—"

"Would never let you in danger, I know."

Still, she would not give up. "Those are only rumours."

He looked at her with pity. "That is precisely what your cousin said," he sighed, staring ahead toward Jon. "But, what both of you don't know, is that every rumour has its streak of truth." Dany was chilled to the bone, refusing to look at either her friend or her husband, she chose to direct her gaze down, to her Silver's beautiful mane.

Jon's kindness couldn't be a lie.

Looking at his back, distant and ever hesitant to trust her with all of him, Dany feared for her future again.

•••

Days passed slowly, and slowly it got colder. Summer rain fell hard day in, day out, soaking their horses and the wheelhouses and their clothes. The fires were harder to keep going, and tents went soggy because of the mud. Dany, used to the difficulties of travelling, still hated it all.

Jon was a comfort every cold night they passed together in their tent. Dany was hesitant, fearful of him at times, but his patience and calming brooding presence never seemed to fall into the pit of green madness Ser Davos had her imagine. Though angry and confused, she couldn't deny his affectionate worry for her. She laid with him, and watched him sleep, sometimes peacefully, sometimes not, but always quiet. She wanted to ask him what he hid, wanted to find out how his mind worked, what made him do whatever he did.

Sometimes, she asked who that prisoner was, but he was always asleep and never answered, so she got up and sat by the fire, her dragon eggs close as she stared at the flames. The closer they got, the more melancholy she felt. Lonely and lost, Dany felt the lack of guidance with glaring intensity. Lady Melisandre was now always close to another Red Priestess that had accompanied the province lord from Yi Ti, Lord Chai. Lord Stannis was focused on maintaining the security of the party, Ser Davos soon behind and Jon spent the day with him, sullen and brooding over the fact he didn't get to lead the way to his own home.

The company amongst the guests was aplenty and just as familiar as her, but she had no patience to deal with Cousin Renly's meaningless compliments, Sarella's continuous attempts at proving herself as a spy to her family, or Lady Brienne's sullenness for Ser Loras' parting home. She had Lord Aurane and Ser Terrence at her side, loyal guards since her earliest memories that never strayed far, but she felt no need to hear their hesitancy in calling her Princess every time they directed her their words.

At night, all she had to do before bed was sit and eat and mingle with more and more guests. A Lorathi mistress, a Prince from Pentos or a Minister from wherever the hell, a rich merchant or a sailor from faraway lands. Martial specialists flaunting their prowess or timid guards that barely spoke their own languages, much more the common tongue. Any Myrish was arrogant when speaking with her, — which she and Sarella complained often — taunting their importance in the building of her castle. Her own baggage was stored and to mess with it would only make a chaos and slow them down, which Dany absolutely didn't want.

She wanted to see her new home.

One such boring night, when the sky was clear of looming clouds and had yet a fair amount of sunlight, Dany set by a fire pit in the opening, looking at the Cook slowly making a deliciously smelling stew of lamb and mushrooms. Dany was already irritable with her ever-growing boredom, and the Cook had refused to let her help or have a taste, so, she was ready to blow up in frustration.

Huffing out angrily, she blew a strand of hair out of her face, getting up and stomping out of the cooking area. People were setting camp close to their tents or carts or wheelhouses, their own fire pits ablaze and their own diners preparing. She walked past them, uncaring for the petulant pout in her lips as she headed for the flower field they were camping next to.

Lord Aurane accompanied her without trouble, entering the lavender field behind her. She saw a dark figure ahead with the black cloak and dressing similar to her husband's and, as he was currently meeting with Ramsay, she figured it probably was one of his personal guards. Dany ran ahead, busting out into the small clearing where the dark figure stood with a torch in hand over a small thin woman in red sitting on the muddled ground. Lord Aurane called for caution, and Dany heard him at first when the Yi Tish man finally looked at her with dark eyes. She had seen him many times with the other Red Priestess. Dany looked at the woman and finally registered the small animal she was cradling at her lap. She could hear the woman's faint murmurings as she stroke the cat. Curiosity spiked and she braved forward regardless of her guard's warnings.

The man observed her quietly, dismissing her quickly when she kneeled beside the woman — who stopped chanting once she approached — so he could favour Lord Aurane with his glare. The Bastard of the Driftmark responded to the silent warning with a glare of his own.

Dany ignored them to look at the small animal, a black feline with a severely twisted paw, whining and hissing at the Yi Tish priestess caressing his dark fur.

"A shadowcat," the woman said, never taking her eyes off of it. "It was born defected and its mother left it behind," Finally, the woman looked up to meet Dany's gaze. In the faint light allowed by the sun and aided by their torch, Dany sad the black pits the woman had for eyes. From her, Dany felt nothing. The woman had a passiveness in her that was deep and haunting, different from her silent companion, she seemed to have no life left in her, no emotion at all. "It will die soon."

"Not if you take care of it," she was quick to answer, just as quietly but with a streak of passion that was lacking in the other. The woman blinked, surprise fleeting and fragile as petals before a false smile settled upon her lips.

"But I do not care for it."

Dany frowned at her, lifting one angry eyebrow. "Then what are you doing?" The woman smiled again, as empty as before. She took the kitten from her lap, laying it on the ground as she got up on her feet.

"Blessing it." She stared at it, uncaring. Dany didn't like it, not one bit. The woman felt wrong, acted wrong. Everything about her was fading and empty, like a mere puppet controlled by strings. "The Lord of Light appreciates every sacrifice, even a natural and simplified one as this one's death." She smiled, serenely, as if every word coming out of her mouth wasn't so utterly wrong. Dany was used to such words coming from Lady Melisandre, and they fell flat to her. "Now, even a useless thing such as this will have a purpose in its end. Fierce blood of such a prime specimen, and a newborn at that." Her eyes moved back to the cat and she finished her chanting. "Cast your Light upon us, for the Night is full of terrors." She pulled the torch from the man's grip and in one smooth movement set fire to the small kitten.

Flinching away from the woman, Dany screamed. Her terrified gaze didn't stray from the little kitten as it screeched in pain. The man beside the priestess grimaced, looking away from them, making a pained face when the woman started some sort of prayer. Lord Aurane's hands were almost upon her shoulders when Dany threw herself to the ground, her long skirts gathered in hands as she desperately tried to smother the flames away. The flames were quick to catch on the thing's small body, burning away the fur from its tail to its chest. Its skin smelled like cooked meat, and Dany wanted to retch and cry and burn the woman for doing such a thing.

Lady Melisandre's talk of sacrifices were always disgusting and barbaric, things of darkness and inhumanity that served only to destroy in the name of their belief, but Dany had never witnessed any of such acts. Stannis' lady wife followed diligently to whatever the woman said, and Dany knew that, in an abstract way, they still did one sacrifice or another whenever Lord Stannis' duties pulled him out of their vicinity. Now she knew what they did; it was no rumour to scare her away from the Red Woman, no Ser Davos complaining of the wrong things she did like it was petty of him. The woman who she loved so much was the same as the empty witch praying over death.

"Oh, what a pity," the woman said, true disappointment in her voice. Dany smothered the flames that caught on her dress with her own hands, not feeling the heat at all. "It was a blessing for you, Princess."

Dany glared at her, getting up on her feet and cradling the little thing close to her chest, uncaring for the blood trailing down her hands. Lord Aurane stepped closer, drawing his sword as he pushed her back. Dany wanted to say many things, wanted to have the woman away and to never set sight upon her again. But what power did she have when she owed the woman's apparent Lord? The same way Lady Melisandre followed Lord Stannis and Lady Selyse, this woman followed Lord Chai, one of their main investors. Suddenly, Jon's promise of paying every debt had much less to do with honour than she had first believed.

They were the ones trapped by strings, puppets to the puppeteers that had built their home. They had to cut those ties as fast as possible.

With that in mind, Dany was quick to put her hand on Lord Aurane, stopping him from pointing his sword at the people from an entirely different country that were their esteemed guests. Dany wanted to run away from there, put them down as quick as her guard wished, but she could not.

"In our kingdoms," her voice trembled as much as any child's would, showing her image as nothing else would. Dany hated it, hated that she displayed to them how scared she was. "It… It is forbidden." The shadow cat mewled in her hands, breathing hard and crying in pain. She would not cry. She would not cry. "Sacrifices such as these…" She shook her head, fury making her hiss out her last words.

She hated them. They should die for their cruelty. What if she had deemed this kitten not enough for sacrifice?

"You cannot do it." She hugged it close to her chest, its twisted little paw pushing at her heaving chest. "Not here." She bit her tongue, frowning at them. "I'll have words with your lord for your deeds and you will be punished accordingly. Understood?"

"Yes," the man spoke for the first time, relief evident in his tone as he took the torch from the priestess' hand. He gripped her arm, hard, already turning the still smiling woman away. "Forgive our grave mistake, Princess." And with that, they were gone into the tall lavender field, heading to their own camp.

As soon as they were out of sight, Dany gasped and fell to her knees. Heaving for breath, she stared at the little kitten in her bloody hands. It was in terrible shape, barely capable of keeping its eyes open. There was just enough sunlight for her to see it was a little male kitten.

"Sh, shhhh..." She tried to reassure it as it cried, weaker and weaker. She could feel its fragile bones in her hands, under the weak muscle and barely any fat. She could feel its flesh, with the same texture as the cooked meat she liked so under her hands. How had it burned so much so quickly? Panicked, a dry sob escaped her as Lord Aurane fell at her side, hands caressing her head and cheeks and arms as he tried to pry the little thing away from her. She didn't let him, scrambling to her feet.

"My Lord," Dany ordered, blinking away the tears and trying her best to regulate her breathing. She adjusted her hold onto the little cat, putting him to her chest, just under her chin. His tiny claws dug into her skin with desperation, and the oily scent coming from whatever tuff of fur that was left on his head made her want to curl up around it and protect it from all bad in their world. She pressed her cheek to his little head, closing her eyes and wishing the pain away. "We need… We…" Growling in frustration, she let a few tears escape as she cradled the little one close to her, eyes narrowed to where the couple had disappeared

"Yes, Your Grace." In the face of their own panic, he did not care for propriety. He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, moving into the flower field through a different path from the one they came. She could see the black and red of her wheelhouse in the distance and the camp in a panic, no doubt they had heard her scream. The pair was seen before coming out of the field and Jon was the first to meet them. But yet her friend didn't stop, moving into camp and causing a ruckus amongst Stark, Baratheon and Targaryen parties. He put her on the ground at her request and Dany ran to her wheelhouse, ignoring the inquiries of the people around her.

Inside her wheelhouse, Doreah was reading a book to her two other handmaidens and they snapped in attention at her entrance. Dany ignored their cries and questions at seeing her so dishevelled and bloodied, kneeling next to the low table in the middle of the sitting area, pushing everything that was on top of it away as she laid the kitten carefully on it.

The girls gasped, kneeling with her and staring at the little one. Dany was still heaving for breath when she sent them away, to bring in supplies and ask for a willing healer. They immediately protested, saying they could help, putting hands on her shoulders and caressing her head but she flinched away from them and ordered for them to leave her at once.

They looked sadder and worried than angry as they left, but Dany barely registered that. Dany did not wait for them to close the door and she was already moving, getting her luxury sheets and towels, making a little bed for the kitten and then wetting a small piece of soft cloth to clean his wounds. The burnt was ugly, and his little body shook entirely with his difficulty to keep breathing. Every time she touched his skin, he cried out pitifully. His twisted little paw, the only one untouched by fire, twitched and contorted. Dany did not know how to heal him, did not know how to make the pain go away. Suddenly feeling alone, with a dying kitten in front of her in desperate need of help, Dany was lost again.

She let her head fall with a thud on the table, gasping and sobbing silently as the pitiful beast meowed and whined again and again. She couldn't bear it anymore, and while she begged him to stop, she cupped her hands on her ears like a coward. Yet, she could hear the shadowcat, she could hear her husband and cousin Stannis screaming outside, she could hear the chatter and she could hear it all still.

She did not know what to do.

A knock on the door made her flinch, and she told them to leave her if they couldn't help. The kitten mewled, weak but insistent, and she stared at him through her lashes. The little thing had crawled from its bed, heading for her with closed eyes. Just as Dany lifted her head, he bumped her nose, nuzzling into her. Her sobbing receded, allowing a small chuckle to come out of her mouth. She scratched his ears, pulling the sheets closer to him, lifting his little body again so he'd rest on them.

They, whoever they were, knocked again. This time, it was more forceful and it followed with Ramsay's voice.

"Oi! Milady! You had a shitty day, very well, understandable, my condolences." She hiccuped, hurt and angry. "But we actually have someone to help you as you asked, so stop being a pussy and—" He was interrupted, rather abruptly, by a great bang. His scream of pain and indignant screaming of Jon's title told her her husband was to blame for punishing the older boy for his insolence.

Staring at the little being fighting hard to survive in front of her, Dany decided it was time for her to stop acting like a spoiled brat. This was not about her. She had saved the damned cat, she should do something about it.

She would care for it.

She opened the door and stood tall before them. The entire main camp seemed to be waiting there, falling silent when she stepped out. Tired, she looked at Ramsay on the ground, and to Jon standing next to him with clenched fists, Lord Stannis closest to the wheelhouse with Ser Davos, and all the others until her eyes fell upon Lady Melisandre, at the back of the waiting crowd.

Deep disgust and uncontrollable rage filled her at once. In her throat, words upon words of accusations and hate boiled, ready to spill and burn the priestess as she had burnt her countless victims. Lady Selyse had once begged for human sacrifice, Lady Melisandre had once said a larger sacrifice was needed for Dany's good fortune. Then, she had not truly grasped what they meant, what they wanted. She had never seen such acts, had never seen such vile things done to another. They had been only words, and words were wind and ink.

You needed to see it to know.

"A red priestess," she started, voice rough but loud enough for them to hear. "Tried to perform a sacrifice to her Lord of Light using a wild shadowcat cub abandoned in the flower fields." There was a strong reaction from the crowd, some gasped and others were already turning to the Red Woman that Dany considered family. "As the priestess to one of our esteemed guests and investors," she looked pointedly at Jon, and he nodded grimly in understanding at her following words. "I dutifully informed them that such practices are illegal in our home, and they apologized accordingly." That wasn't a whole truth, but Dany did not wish to revisit them to make it so. "I was, as expected, shocked and…" Dany lost her words then, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Her chin lowered and she did not look up. Strength left her, and all she felt was worry and fatigue. Still, the little one needed help. "Who among you can aid the kitten?"

"Me, milady." Siro stepped forward from his place beside Jon, a basket already in hands., Irri fidgeting beside him holding other another basket full of other supplies. "I asked Ramsay to call upon you to allow my entrance, but he was not the most…" The boy with kind green eyes, nothing like the poisonous thing that haunted her, glared at the guard slowly getting up from the ground.

"Leave it, Siro," Jon ordered quietly, closing his eyes and moving to drag Ramsay away by the collar of his vest. "Help your lady."

Dany smiled at Siro, nodding to the older boy to enter after her. The crowd dispersed, only Lord Stannis and Ser Davos remaining. The smuggler glared, looking between her and Jon's servant with worry. Dany pursed her lips, a hard frown upon her brow as her gaze fell back upon the Red Woman.

Her mind and heart battled, each proclaiming different things that resonated with her. She wanted to throw herself in Melisandre's arms and beg for her to deny ever participating in the sacrifices, she wanted the Red Priestess gone and away from what was to be her home. She wanted to discover her own castle with one of the people she trusted most in the world beside her, she wanted the Red Woman away from everything she loved. Who stood before her?

The price for the truth was high indeed, it took whom I love most from me without ever spilling their blood.

"Lady Melisandre—" The words stuck on her throat, and she hated that the woman still looked at her with all the pride and love and reverence as she always did, smiling as if to say go ahead, I believe in you. "In the morn, please, turn back and march to your Lady Selyse." Her eyes stung again, but no tears were left for her to cry. Melisandre lifted hers, a smirk on her lips that did not hide the sadness in her gaze. Dany bit her lip, turning her eyes away and closing the door behind her. Irri stood beside her with worried eyes glued to her small figure, but Dany chose to ignore her, focusing on what mattered.

"Oh, poor thing." The boy was already at it, kneeling by the table. Dany followed him quietly, watching as he cleaned the wounds and inspected the little one. He prodded the creature's defected paw, prodded its eyes and head while passing salves and cleaning his remaining fur from the flammable oils the woman must have rubbed on him.

"Will he survive?" she remembered asking at the end, holding the kitten close.

Siro had taken his time, staring at the little animal with pity.

His final answer was "No," and the little thing was dead by sunrise.

•••

She slept in her own tent since then.

Lady Melisandre was sent back to Lady Selyse and Dany was left alone with no mother figure to guide her. Jon tried to be closer, tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away. Ser Davos congratulated her on distancing herself, and she distanced herself from him in return. Lord Stannis watched it all in stern seclusion.

Again, and more acutely than ever, Dany felt lost. The days looked brighter each day that passed. The crisp scent of rain had refreshed the woods. The road was not the best, but the scenario was inspiring. The harsh North had a wilderness to it that fit. Wildlife lived in such with the surroundings touched by the First Men. And even in such a picturesque scene, with everything to lull her into peace, Dany had night terrors every time she closed her eyes.

In her mind, instead of her Father, the Mad King's place was taken by Lady Melisandre, red-haired and red-eyed, chanting as her subjects burned while holding a newborn Dany to her bosom. In her dreams, Lady Marya, Lord Stannis, Ser Davos and Jon were always there, screaming terribly as the flames consumed their bodies.

Sometimes, it was she that burned and Jon tried to reach her, a rope around his neck stopping him from saving her as he suffocated himself. Sometimes, in Jon's place, it was Lord Stannis, and he always abandoned her and walked back to Lady Melisandre's side. People chanted and shadowcats roamed the shadows of the Iron Throne, waiting and watching. The Iron Throne was as grotesque as ever but made of gold. The flames reflected upon it were a sickening shade of green eating everything it touched.

Dany would wake, alone in her tent, and would not cry. She'd curl up and watch the flames from her bed, the soft breathing of her handmaids and the crackling of the fire quiet and never-ending, unlike the screaming fires of her dreams. And for the rest of the night, she would remain in the same position, cold and alone and scared.

One night, when they had just entered the New Gift, two days away from their destination, Dany decided to finally get up on the bed. She grabbed a blue cloak with a large hood, fastening it around her neck and putting on her boots before leaving the tent. Outside, she breathed out, steam curling around her face in a spellbinding way that still fascinated her. Beside her tent was Jon's, and it was dark inside. Her husband was asleep, as she wished she could be. The dark circles under her eyes were more evident as time passed, and Doreah, who applied her face paint every day now, was getting more worried. Dany feared she'd go telling Jon.

And it always came down to people telling him things, wasn't it? Jon knew everything that happened around him, and Dany knew not where to start to know the same.

Shaking her head, Dany tried to disperse such thoughts, knowing they were not completely true. She knew what to do, she was just… she never had to do it on her own. Sighing, she moved her gaze away, falling onto the group huddled in front of their tents around a small fire with a cooking pot on it. Moving closer, she could see Ramsay's bundled up form, engulfed by at least three pelts. Satin was beside him, sitting close with a bowl and an amused smile on his lips even as he frowned worryingly at the Snow's shaking form.

Siro was by the fire, mixing whatever was in that pot as Anguy observed them, his back to Dany. There was an empty seat beside him. Dany sat on it, uncaring of Ramsay's glares. She nodded back to them, hugging her cloak close.

"What is wrong, Ramsay?"

"Fucking nothing!" She lifted an eyebrow and he smiled back.

Satin sighed, shaking his head at him, giving the bowl to Siro. The green-eyed guard had an exasperated expression on his face as he filled the bowl and another. He gave one to Satin and the other to Anguy. "He has a cold, my lady, and as the idiot he is—" Siro ignored said one's nasally threat, getting another bowl from a small pile basked beside him. "He refuses to rest in a tent, or somewhere warm, or anywhere away from my lord and lady. Would you like a bit of warm stew, my lady? It must be terribly cold for you."

"No meat, please." He didn't question her request, smiling softly in understanding. "And a cold is not something to be trifled with, Ramsay." She played with the glinting frost on the grass beneath her feet. "Especially in such climates."

"He is a sturdy dog, my lady," Satin replied, serene as the clear night, uncaring for the brewing storm glaring daggers beside him. "Idiot would never let some cold kill him before milord lost his patience and did it himself." With that, Ramsay barreled into his side, pushing him to the ground.

Dany accepted the bowl from the quiet healer, bringing it to her lips and humming in appreciation to the warmth it offered. The cold did not affect her as much as the other guests or members of her party, but she was a bit chilled. She observed the two older boys fighting in numb fascination as she ate. Though the two were rolling around on the frosted grass, neither made noise. They were like fighting shadows, quiet when they fought and moved. Siro told them to stop at once, but she chose to let them be regardless of the worry that still lingered for the sick guard.

She focused her attention on the Dornish man beside her, the older of the small group. His hair was long, as all of the others but Ramsay's were. He had the tanned skin of the Dornish, but it was paler than the ones that lived there still. Black hair and blue eyes stared at the flames in front of them with apathy, his bow resting at his side with a quiver strapped to his right leg, which he left extended in front of him. Dany moved her gaze to the fighting boys again.

"I am told we have a prisoner." The guard gave no evidence to be listening, but she knew he was. Anguy was diligent to his lord and lady and, though quiet, had never denied or dismissed her, the handful times they interacted. "A vendor was caught in Wintertown, and Jon…" she continued with a haunting tune, dissecting the heaving Snow kneeled on the grass, Satin massaging his back in a consolation that went unappreciated. "Jon broke his finger." She pursed her lips, eyes falling to her bowl. "Put a knife to his knee."

The fire crackled, and Anguy remained quiet. She looked at him, begging silently for an answer. "House Targaryen took a prisoner from Wintertown, the man had a destroyed finger and knee, I was never informed of anything." She turned to him, voice going harder and demanding. "Tell me the truth." He took a sip from his bowl, eyes pensive. "Why has Jon done this? Why would he be so cruel and ruthless and…" her voice trembled and she looked away, pained. "Was he lying this whole time? Is he going to do this again to…" She could not finish the phrase. Not when she didn't know exactly what she'd have to fear for him.

And that made everything much more frightful.

"Siro met Lord Jon at the Neck, ya know?" Finally, he said something, but not what she wanted. Still, she waited as he had waited for her, listening. "Crazy crannogman has more poison than a fucking viper and a scorpion's spawn. Ramsay said he always put Lord Jon to shame when they fought, using poison, attacking his back with whatever the hell he had. In milord's words, he has shitty honour." She smirked, thought that would surely make Jon rather sore. "Took them, Ramsay and milord, to hunt one day. Got all the game alone and let them stuck into his net, cut them down when he was done and Ramsay jumped on 'im, like he does," he huffed, shaking his head when she laughed freely. "Milord threw a dagger at 'im and the fucker caught it with one hand." That seemed like something Ramsay would do. "Cut his fucking fingers, bloodied everything and Siro there had to patch 'im up for the first time while milord panicked." He nodded toward the boy sitting by the fire, now patching up Satin and chiding both.

They looked chagrined. Ramsay had a special constipated face, with snot and blood going down his nose while he shook like a leaf so much his teeth clattered. Satin sat daintily as if he did not feel the pain of the slowly swelling left side of his face and the cut on his brow.

"They come back, and myself was at the deck waiting for those fuckers," he snorted, rolling his blue eyes and meeting her gaze with a deadpan. "Siro had found some berries, Ramsay challenged me to eat them, we did, got dizzy and fell into the fucking swamp." He chuckled, shaking his head. Dany slapped her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back her giggle in vain. "They, Siro and milord that is, idiots, jumped into the water and had to drag our stupid asses out, bu' there were fucking lizard-lions coming at us and fucking Greywater Watch was already floating. We escaped by luck, I tell ya. If that weird Reed heir hadn't called the guards we'd be fucking dead because of those two and their berries."

Dany couldn't hold herself anymore, throwing her head back and laughing loudly. She laughed until she couldn't, gasping and sweeping at her eyes. She was still chuckling when he continued, looking at the night sky with a pensive gaze. "Does that sound like someone who'd hurt ye?" She sobered, looking up at him. He breathed out, making steam rise to the skies in those fascinating puffs. "Lord Jon is a good lad, I've know 'im since he was a small tyke." He pursed his lips, looking at her by the corner of his eye. Dany nodded at him, wanting him to continue even if what he had to say could be called insubordination. "But Ramsay, he is not very good for the lord, makes 'im impulsive." He looked at his fellow guards, now all eating quietly while Ramsay complained to them. "But not a monster. Lord Jon knows what he does. We've done some crazy and unforgivable sins, may the Seven forgive us," he nodded. "But not for the disgrace of good folk, everything he ordered was for our good. Your good." He narrowed his eyes, looking at the ground with a sigh. "He's got his own shit to deal with, and those rumours always paint 'im like he is a terror. He don't like it, no." He looked at her, nodding back to Jon's tent. "So, I'd tell you that you should get the story from 'im, milady, instead of trying to pry and listen to rumours."

Thoughtfully gazing at her now empty bowl, Dany nodded at his words. Anguy got up, bowing to her and moving to his little group. He slapped the back of Ramsay's head, uncaring of the boy's sharp words of distaste. Dany followed him, offering the bowl back to Siro with a small thanks before returning to her own tent.

She had much to think about.

•••

They diverged from the Kingsroad on a rainy morning.

The plan was to cover as much ground as possible until early noon, where they would camp for a few hours and proceed late into the night, arriving at sunrise.

The party was ablaze with expectation. Their eyes were all turned towards the faraway mountains that they all now knew held riches. A glimpse of the illustrious city Jon had described so passionately was vigorously sought out as they strained their sight for it. Jon had run ahead and returned many times, vibrating with energy. His eyes moved back to meet hers every so often, looking nervous and anxious. Ramsay couldn't seem to shut up, speaking without end about how he 'took care' of the city and how much beloved he was and how much beautiful it was, and on and on.

Lady Brienne and Sarella were close to her, Ser Gallan and Lord Renly mounting side by side not much behind. The road was new, a clear path that had carefully manicured grass at its limits and a smooth ground. Magister Illyrio was quick to congratulate Jon in his forward thinking for investing on the road they would take, and she could see many who were impressed by the simple task. Despite their currently sour mood, Dany felt pride for him. Robb was close to Jon, not ever stopping his questions as Lord Howland Reed accompanied them as quiet as he had been for the entire trip.

Many more roamed around them, curious about what the horizon promised. Dany wished they were not.

Alone, alone, alone: I am alone.

Though there was a crowd around her, there wasn't… she could not feel any of the security she was used to. It felt like King's Landing and her hands couldn't stop shaking for it. Lord Stannis was there, sure, and Ser Davos was present this time, but…

She was a grown woman, ready to take her own household, and she had never been alone before. Never with such duties resting so heavily over her. And now…

Taking a deep, deep sigh, Dany tried to focus on other things.

Jon looked vastly different from herself, overwhelmed with the attention focused on him. Lord Stannis was never far from him, neither were Ser Davos and many others. He looked contrite and took many runs ahead and back. He must've been angry with how he was being treated, after so long of dealing with things himself.

As nighttime arrived and the noon passed, Jon insisted they kept going. Lord Stannis and others doubted him, but Anguy spoke out of turn to advise them to trust his lord. As the older of the group, his words were heard, which made Jon sullen again. Sarella laughed at his expense at her side, but Dany only watched.

The sky was dark and the moonlight was plenty, but guests were worried and uneasy moving in the dark. Jon was relentless in moving forward, though. Suddenly, he bolted forward on his mount, his torch illuminating the path enough for them to see him go up a long hill. The way was long, and he stopped at the top, staring out quietly. He remained with his back to them until they were closer. He looked back when his own small group reached him and called for her.

Dany blinked, surprised. Lady Brienne nudged her side and she stared at her friend with wide eyes. The low light coming from the various flames danced on her face and in her sapphire eyes, and Dany found the courage to follow to his call. She bolted up the hill, passing the very first guard that lead the way with a Targaryen banner in hand. Jon watched her with eyes that shone with life under the moonlight, shining silver and as human as ever. Dany came to a stop beside him, never straying her gaze until something in the corner of the eye caught her attention. Turning her gaze away from him when he smiled wide, Dany gasped.

There, on the horizon, sat by the mountains, was a circle of light resting amongst shadows. A castle rose high above the tree-line, looming and indistinguishable in the distance. Towers could be seen forming a giant wall that she could not see ending around the high structure, each had a great fire pit inside that made the place shine brightly in the dark, unmistakable even from atop a hill. The light had such intensity in the dark, she could see the beams going up in the sky, fading into the clouds. Behind her, she could hear gasps of delight and surprise, but nothing could make her turn away from the image that rested so far from her.

She could not distinguish colours, or forms, or anything more in the dark, but that crown that rested at the mountain range's feet, surrounded by what probably was lush wildlife, was hers.

She took in the view, soaking up in its glory as if she depended on it. Like her whole being breathed its sight and turned it into the very air that filled her lungs. She felt as if she could reach with her hand and cradle it close to her chest, above her heart, and nurse it alive. The sky, the mountains, the forest and the very ground her Silver stood upon; it was all hers to care for. There lived her people, there stood what would be their legacy. All the pain, and nightmares and all that she went through in her life were for this. She resented it once, she tried to forget it many times, and now she loved it and treasured like the salvation it had become for her.

The Prince, the Red Priestess, the Queen and the King… all of them turned meaningless memories, ashes that would not steal or harm what she had ahead of her. The past was behind her, lived and fulfilled, not ever to be forgotten, but ready to be left behind in favour of what she could build for the future. She was Lady of Queenscrown, Lady of this land, and it depended on her, relied on her mind and hands.

Again, Jon took her hand. And she looked back at him with eyes glinting with happiness to meet his own. He squeezed her hand, quiet and supportive and simply Jon. She beamed, wide and free and happy, and he answered back with a rare grin of his own. She jumped from Silver, and he got down from his own black mount. Without pomp, Dany sat there, on the road, dirtying her skirts so she could admire the vision that was ahead of her. Jon crouched beside her, looking out at what was theirs with the same appreciation and awe as Dany, even though it was him who brought her to such a vision. Behind them, someone took their horses, servants started mounting the camp and people walked away, uncaring for the distant glimpse of their destiny.

"It's prettier at sunset," he whispered, and she did not bother to turn to him.

"Is it?" Her heart hammered in her chest, confused and hurt and scared of confronting him as she should. She did not wish to destroy their quest for peace, but how could they truly be equals if she was afraid of confrontation?

"I…" he sighed, letting his head fall forward. Dany gulped and waited. "I wanted to show you, but we were too late." She pressed her lips together and bit her cheek to stop herself from screaming at his face despite his sweet words. Why won't you tell me? Why won't you tell me, Jon? "When the sun sets, the white would reflect light on the lake, and then the glass roof…" Though she was not looking directly at him, she saw how his face was soft and peaceful. Dany wondered where was the practicality in having any building with a glass roof in the North, but her heart longed to see the vision he couldn't put into words. Jon put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly. "I hope you love it as much as I do. I just…" he sighed again, placing a kiss on the crown of her hair. "I am nervous," he began, hesitant. "You are the only one that I truly, fully want to look at Queenscrown and fall in love with it as much as I have."

Dany blinked. "And are there others to impress?"

He chuckled, breathless. "We do have debts to pay and guests to impress."

I just want you to be honest with me.

"I am aware." She turned to look up at him with a hard glint in her eyes that she knows he lost, focused as he was to look into the distance. "I wish we could just be done with them."

He nodded, with that cold look on his face again. His eyes were wild and his fists were clenched tight. "I've talked with Lord Chai, he hardly seemed worried for his subjects' actions… That woman, she was a Red Priestess…" She breathed, calm despite her inner struggles. His intent was obvious and she felt bittersweet amusement for he knew her too well by now. So well that her ordering of her Red Priestess away was not dismissed as simple for him.

"I knew," she started, quiet and distressed still, with him and Mel and what the morning held for them. "I knew of sacrifices. I knew they happened, that they were wanted." Jon crouched down by her, his boots firmly planted on the road, perfectly balanced as he gave her his attention. "Mel… Mel was my mother." The admission was acid in her mouth. To call such a woman a mother was to defile the title, and it hurt even more so that Dany was incapable of not thinking of the Red Priestess in another way. "She was…She, and Cousin Stannis, and Ser Davos, and later on, Marya…" She closed her eyes, an ache that brought suffering to her heart.

"I have no family," she breathed out, shaken. "No family but what I built to myself, and I lost both women that were the only mothers I had in a single week." She looked at him dead in the eye, shoulders falling as she tilted her head with a wry smile on her lips. "And one of them was to my own ignorance, and disgust-" she returned her gaze ahead, dry eyes lost in the distance. "And because of that, I now hate that I love her. So deeply, unconditionally, irrevocably, completely love her because she is my mother." She lifted her chin, if only for a semblance of confidence. "But I need to forget it, for what does that make of me, if my love is given so freely to a woman of such madness? If what little of a family I have is a terrible witch who believes in terrible things such as…as burning," she curled her lips, an unsettling feeling in her stomach. "And sacrificing people to… for…" She couldn't tell him of the Chosen One. Of the Princess that Was Promised. I cannot.

Once more, he took one of her hands to comfort her. He stroked her skin with rough fingertips, lacing their fingers together and squeezing hard. "Then you will forget her?"

She shuddered and nodded, breathing out and watching the steam disappear.

"Yes," she would forget her like she did her blood father and his madness like she did the Prince and his senseless cruelty, the Queen and her bitterness, the King and his hate. Her Summer memories were now forever tainted with the image of burning beings and sacrifices, all in the name of Daenerys Targaryen. "I will forget her."

They watched the sky turn black, and the mantle of stars shine through the darkness with a light that enchanted, gleaming beautifully behind the mountain range.

"That woman won't come close to you again, Daenerys." Solemn, absolute. He believed every word he uttered. But to what woman he referred? The unknown Red Priestess they could not touch, or the woman Dany now hated as much as she loved? "This I promise you."

"Thank you." She took a deep breath and looked at him in his eyes. "But I shall be fine."

He looked away from her, staring out towards their growing home with a frown.

"I lost my father a long time ago, in a way," Dany remained still, not wanting to scare him into silence. "We… Our ideas do not match, and he tried to change me with all he had," he said with a scoff. "He had been reluctant after I decided to not kill Ramsay, for what he had done to Theon." She did not know of the story behind his words, but she knew how scared the Greyjoy had been in the presence of the other bastard. "Theon does not know it. He doesn't… He doesn't know I…" he breathed out. "I took pity on Ramsay. He had been sent to me as a tool, and he wanted to die to destroy every plan his father must've had. But in doing it, killing him… Father saw only a punishment to be given, and I a provocation that would cost us much, for Lord Bolton would use his bastard's death against us at his first chance." He sighed, taking a tiny rock on the road and throwing down the hill. "From that day on, my Father thought much less of me, because Ramsay's debt to me made him no less than a debt servant, but a living one that could not be a slight to House Bolton if I treated him right."

"My Father pardoned him, officially, but it was me truly, and I think part of Lord Stark hated me for it. And part of me… I don't understand him." He lowered his chin, heavy frown and confused stare glaring down as if the dirt road would have an answer. Despite the strain she could see the position gave him, Jon did not sit down. "He doesn't see what I do, and he fears what I see. Honour." He looked up, a hard glint in his eyes. "Commands him, rules over his mind and makes him blind. I…" He gulped, moving his face away from her and whispering so quietly she almost didn't hear. "I do not wish to live like him, but I hate it that I can't be honourable and good in his eyes."

Dany knew how hard it was for him to say so much. Jon had not always been talkative, but here he was, sharing as much as she did because he wanted to comfort her. He wanted her to feel better, and for long she had pushed him away since Ser Davos' words. Jon told her much, but not what she longed for. What more do you have to say, Jon Snow? She squeezed his hand one last time before turning away.

"I think…" She was afraid, but she could not back down and wait meekly. There was much more to Jon Snow that he hadn't told her, and she had no spies to aid her in knowing every bit of his life before they met. Anguy had given council, as had Ser Davos. She had listened and still felt lost. "I think there is much you don't tell, Jon Snow." He tensed beside her, but she stared forward. "There is much that you keep guarded, and for that, you…" You bring pain and confusion. What makes me or your father less that you couldn't simply say what you see and know and think? "You lose more, for you hope for others to follow along, ignorant." She looked at him, at his cold and emotionless mask glaring at her. "And people do not like that."

Tell me, Jon Snow.

He tightened his jaw, words stuck in his throat, ready to spill. She did not let him.

"You are good. You are honourable." His eyes widened, his jaw slackened, surprise clear on his handsome features. "But you think less of you and less still of others. You want to command, to have others following you, but you don't listen and you don't know how to follow." She looked away. "Your father wanted you to listen, and you wanted your father to guess."

Silence reigned, and he slowly stood up on his fit. His fists were clenched tight.

"And what do you know?" Freezing, her eyes widened and heart hammered in her chest. His voice was cold, detached. I hurt him. "How can you know what my father wanted? How can you understand the decisions I had to make? Have you ever done something alone? Have you ever had a responsibility, true and heavy weighing your shoulders down?" She clenched her fists, lowering her head as his words struck her like the blows they were. "You say you've seen the world, that you have seen everything there is to see, but all you did was tour beside your guardians and walls, secure and guarded against the world. You have never been alone." It is true, a treacherous voice hissed in her ear. "You may listen as much as you want, what is the use of words when you cannot have your own thoughts? Can't you think without help?" Anger, deep and self-righteous rose like a beast in her chest. Her eyes narrowed and her shaking fists stilled. "Can't—"

"And you," she snapped at him, glaring at his looming figure. "Cannot listen." Confusion twisted his features for a moment before they were smoothed out. She continued with a vengeance. "I was giving you counsel. I was not attacking you as you do to me." She shook her head. "That is what I meant, what your father wanted. He did want to change you, I do not want to change you." She got up on her feet, turning and staring him dead in the eye. "I was honest, and I wanted to help you see. Your father wanted to give you reason, and his own views, and his own thoughts and all you could get out of it was that he was wrong." She was heaving with breath, wide eyes begging him to understand. "People see you, Jon, but they cannot guess what you think, or why you do whatever you've done. You need to know those things, you need to look beyond your own world." She gasped, head dizzy with feelings and sensations. The root of the problem was clear in front of her. Ser Davos' words were brought to the forefront of her mind, and she whispered to him. "Haven't you heard the rumours?"

The breeze played with their curls. Jon stared at her with dark eyes, moonlight making them silver and his skin shining like his name. He was a beautiful vision in black, standing guard with fury and confusion and hurt. She regretted it, then. She regretted saying it as soon as the question was out. Anguy's words — "He's got his own shit to deal with, and those rumours always paint 'im like he is a terror. He don't like it, no, so, I'd tell you that you should get the story from 'im, milady, instead of trying to pry and listen to rumours." — echoed in her mind, and the way Jon stepped away from her, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what she had just said. It made her heart weep for him and her throat tighten.

"I've heard enough," was all he whispered before he walked away, turning his back to the hand she extended to him.

She remained there, alone, until Doreah called her to sleep.

•••

Daenerys chose her outfit that morning, a sleek thing that had a golden heart-shaped bodice that laid low and a black blouse peeking out of her cleavage that connected to a full body black piece with tight pants glued to her form. It had short sleeves, red with black lace, ending just after her shoulder with a full white pelt connecting with an asymmetric skirt, red with the same black patterns from the sleeve, just in full view for the piece was long on her right side, leaving her left leg in the open. She wore long black gloves with gold trims. Finally, she had black boots that went to her knees.

Her hair was made into a crown, going over her head with a braid interwoven with black and red threads. She let her face clean of any paints.

Dany hoped she looked like her mother.

Going out of her tent that morning felt magical. People stared at her again, in awe or in jealousy or lust. She ignored them, mounting her Silver and moving to the very front of the party, looking out at the high towers she could barely see. Dusk covered the vision of the previous night, a thick fog curling at her ankles and rising into the forest.

Jon appeared by her side, dressed in black leather and an open long asymmetric coat, lined with thick white fur inside. He did not greet her, looking ahead and ignoring her own prodding stare. He looked unbothered by her gaze and the procession waiting impatiently behind them, but his fists were tightly curled on his reigns, his shoulders tense. You cannot lie to me, Jon Snow. How could they ever hope to return to that semblance of privacy when they had shared it so openly? Jon had carved her heart out with nothing but gentle kisses and kind words, patient beyond what she had ever witnessed as he cared for her fragile self. He had seen her innermost self and stained her with the black of his hair and the grey of his eyes, marking her skin with his touch and her mind with his thoughts.

In exchange, she had taken hold of his soul. Jon found in her calm what he had with no other, she knew. It was no love they shared, but it was a camaraderie that tied them to each other as no other they had ever met did.

She knew he was cross with her for intruding, she knew she had been too forceful. He knew she had reason to distrust him, and still, he hadn't listened. They were at an impasse, and they knew the other well enough by now to realize it with a glance. Knowing someone like that was a curious thing. She had never looked at someone and read their own body like they were part of her thoughts. Under those clothes, there was skin she had touched and kissed. In him, Dany found a map, a book of secrets in a language she still had to fully learn.

He was no stranger or friend or family that she had tied to her by sentimentality. What connected their paths were much more than duty by now, much more than punishment unwanted or tool to humiliation. They had not parted after their bedding and Jon had not cast her aside as was usual for their culture, and it had shown in their way they had bound themselves together with unrestrained passion and complete transparency.

Well, at least on my part. Dany was hurt and she worried for what she had heard from Ser Davos, whose council had never failed her before. But the words of someone who had aided Jon in his misdoings, their servant Anguy, were sincere. She had gone against Anguy's advice, followed her anger and confronted Jon with the thing he hated — she believed the rumours before his own words — and hurt him deeply when he tried to comfort her, but nothing she said wasn't something she thought wrong. Divided, hurt and self-righteous, neither would speak or apologize, such was the pride of youth.

Quiet, Dany savoured the calming lull of the forest path. Sunlight barely peeked into the sky, painting it with dark colours that danced and merged into a beautiful natural masterpiece. Birds chirped, the wind blew and the breeze brought with it the strong musk of life mixed with the stench of humans. She wished she was alone to experience it with no outside interference but her own insignificant one in the face of such grandeur.

It didn't take long for her to see the great wall entering her vision, towers sparked through its length with great fire pits like the ones she read existed in Old Valyria. Their roofs were great black domes, and the structure was made of white stones. The walls to her utmost right were of the same stone, but at a point, it turned into a thick line of wood. At the division point between wood and stone, builders worked even at the lowlight of the rising sun, mallets banging away and an uncountable number of carts filled with giant blocks of stone and many other things occupied the area. The stone walls were almost reaching the great wood gates that led into Queenscrown.

Dany looked with wide violet eyes, breathless and enchanted with the view she had dreamt about her whole life. A rider rode ahead of them, and just as she had to bend her neck back to spy at the curious faces looking down at them from the wooden parapets at least ten feet tall, the gates were opened, revealing her kingdom under the light of the dawn.

Catching her breath, Dany almost toppled over her horse as a dirt road passed through leagues of empty fields, leading to an agglomerate of structures far off in the distance at the base of the mountain. Rising high from it was a beautiful castle with black roofing and walls that shone purple with the first light of the day. It took great strength to look away and inspect her sides, and yet she could see that the walls went far to the sides, so long its furthest point disappeared up into the shadow of the mountain, on both sides!

There were roads along the walls curving softly to follow it, a stream — the canals! the heated aqueducts! — parting it in two, leaving enough space for three carts to pass on each side. Dany snapped her eyes back to the road ahead, with dark metal circles spread along its length, something inside her flying high knowing that those roads were going to be warm and paved for the product she had inspired into fruition. She let her eyes rise up, admiring her castle with its high towers and longing to see it up close. She moved her gaze higher and higher to the mountain-range, barely grasping the idea that it belonged to her as its breathtaking sight was haloed by the rising sun.

They passed green expanses — the farmlands! — separated by two paths before entering a circular plaza with two more roads leading to each side, and this time the district — "District rings," Jon whispered into her ear as she caressed two of the purpled rings separating the farmlands from the main city. His hand massaged her back the same way she touched the map, and it made her giggle, making him chuckle. "Those are the manses, the palaces of our benefactors." She felt his lips twitch against her ear. "I wanted to have them as far from us as propriety allowed." She gave him a kiss in exchange. — were no lush greens, but narrower and with less treated grounds with a low barrier and long tubes extending through the earth. In the very centre of the plaza was a lone tower with red roofing and black stone. At its top, she could see movement inside. They passed the watchtower and ignored the four roads leading further into the districts, exiting the plaza by walking forward towards a beautiful green space that was many times wider than the large plaza connected with yet another district ring with sparse few wood and stone buildings.

They moved left, and soon the dirt road changed into a dark grey stone pavement. Workers moved away from them, scrambling to move their equipment out of their way. Eyes moved toward Jon, and soon some were nodding respectfully and many gave him warm greetings and grins.

People waved at them, bowed and sent cheerful or tired 'good mornings' to Jon and his guards. Then they looked at her — in red and black clothing and silver hair telling of her identity — with solemn curiosity and wariness. She tried to wave at them, but most only stared back at her in judgement. The foreboding eyes that accompanied her in the next plaza were aplenty. The palace district to their left was slowly appearing more filled, great manses in all sorts of different styles — "Dornish, Northern, Yi Tish, Myrish, Pentoshi, Qohorsi, Nervosi, the whole world surrounds our castle, Daenerys." — separated by narrower roads and gates appearing more frequently and less sparse. At each path they passed, guards with flags from whoever owned such palaces were waiting, attentive to the party that followed Dany and Jon.

As they moved, the cold lessened largely and the air grew warmer, a low steam rolling lazily around them up into the skies as the sun started to rise. The mountains' body slowly turned from indistinguishable darkness to a plane full of life, with greens and large and small rocks, its peaks covered in snow. The districts on each side were full of housings and people already mingling about. Chimneys were already spilling smoke into the skies, bakeries in full swing and stalls being assembled when they entered a lively and rustic town — "There is what we call Queen's Town," Jon pointed at the West section that did not follow the organized form of the district rings. "It was the small starting village built by the workers before we started to organize and plan the terrain contract outside the castle, old town." — and turned right.

Queen's Town was messier, grimier, but no dirty old place. Jon hated when things weren't as clean as they could possibly be. The way he had silently raged and complained about how he didn't want their future to be as shit as King's Landing had been endearing, and it showed in the care of the place. Having not ever seen the Capital city, Jon only knew of it through the terror tales of their architects and builders and sewer specialists, and as such his mind had to stretch the tales to their fullest. Robb had told her that their speech had marked Jon, making it unbearable for him to live in pollution and filth. Queenscrown's Oldtown was alive with movement, its buildings and streets messier and unorganized but in no ways was it without its beauty. Houses were of a warmer coloured stone, with the narrow and messy paths cut clean into the village. The people were dressed simply, but more heavily than they'd seen previously. No stream passed through its roads, and Dany knew it was a part of the city that had no heating due to its early and messier formation.

They turned right, riding past the town and into a great plaza with the tallest watchtower she'd seen yet and a great warm fountain with many children already running around it as their family put up their stalls and bought whatever they needed for an early feasting. They moved past the warm greetings and paid respects, and Dany couldn't help but smile in the face of their curiosity despite her owns fears. Two other districts were passed, the roads separating them narrow but with its aqueducts and its detailed metal fence completed with gas lamps. Soon after the great fountain, two other districts surged with colour and brilliance in their lavishing crops. Two great spaces of green with giant glasshouses spread through it between fields of groves with all the likeness of the ones from Dorne. People were at work in the fields, and she could see them mingling amongst the crops. Sunlight streamed through the beautifully coloured glasshouses, their domed roofs rising high, with shadows of moving workers mingling about inside. In the innermost greenbelt, its two endings were empty of plantation or buildings, but well treated.

Finally, they reached the ramp leading up to the great open gates ahead of them. Impatient, Dany ran ahead regardless of Lord Stannis' callings. She heard no complaints from Jon, who just followed at his own pace. She passed the gates to find a paradise enclosed by high walls, the sun high enough now so she could see the true vibrancy of its white stones. She was close enough to notice the fine work put at in the castle, black detailing that was fine and delicate flowed through the white walls, with great glass windows she had never seen before, open ash ways. A bridge crossed the lake she had heard so much about, connecting it to a gatehouse.

This lake is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Dany gasped, galloping until she was halfway through the bridge, scrambling out of her Silver and running to the barricade, slamming on it and looking down at the deep waters and the distant lush land close to the Inner Walls protecting it, and the castle, from outside interference. A small gathering ran across the private lake band, men fighting against each other with swords or doing many other exercises in the early morning.

"The guard!" laughing breathlessly, Dany whispered to herself. She could barely believe that what she had discovered in documents and letters and others' accounts was there in front of her, real and living in its routine. The sun was higher, illuminating the Gift with golden light, blessing her lands with the Summer's treasure of warmth and security. She looked down, seeing the lake lapping at the tall pillars supporting the bridge. She could feel her eyes watering as she laughed, shaking her head as she stepped back and looked up and up and up towards the highest point she could see of her castle.

Heart in hand, Dany walked the rest of the way, slow enough that Jon reached her by the time she entered the gatehouse. She stopped inside it, looking up at the curious faces of armoured men looking down from their posts. Jon stopped behind her, getting down from his great black mount and walking till he stood beside Dany. She gulped, taking her eyes away from the curious faces above and staring at what must have been a stable boy passing by them, guiding Jon's black beast away as huge dark eyes peered at her beneath a simple cap. He scurried away when their eyes met, startled.

Sadness stirred from its hiding corner in her heart again, bringing with it all the worries she had briefly buried beneath childish joy. A gentle hand on her arm made Dany turn back to Jon. Despite his ice-cold features, his hold was gentle as he nudged her forward. He guided her into a beautiful courtyard. The main doors of the castle were huge, right in front of the gatehouse with small stairs connecting it to the courtyard and there were open passageways leading into the four towers surrounding it. The stone under her boot was solid and whiter as the ones that made the walls of her home.

Her eyes were glued onto the closed doors of the castle's main entrance, hypnotized by its colourful red paint, with its black doorway and the white of the walls, and the two stories of great windows. The sun shone onto the glass, and a distant bell rang as their doors opened. A fat boy surged from the depths of the castle, stopping to stare at her with huge eyes. She ignored him, entering the halls of her new home. She could hear him whispering furiously to Jon, but she did not bother to try and discern his words.

Two staircases lead up to the second floor, curving softly. The ceiling was high, detailed with various patterns and symbols. Was it in gold? Paint? Silver? Her mind was too full to truly know. She looked at the floor. It was marble, shining and polished and warm.

"Go up," came from behind her, making her snap back to reality. She did not bother to look back, moving her eyes unto one of the staircases and to the balcony above. There were lamps along the walls, turned off for the moment but when she approached she saw the same little switch as in the one Jon had in Winterfell. Breathing out a laugh, she ran upstairs, hand sliding on the handrail as the other held her skirt.

Up and up and up she went, breathless as she stopped at the top. She took a moment to take a turn, looking from the ceiling to the windows to the walls to the floor and the corridors on both sides. She looked down from the balcony, watching as people filtered in with curious eyes roaming around. Jon was already walking up the stairs. She turned back, eyes falling onto another great door of warm wood with two guards waiting at each side. They were dressed in Targaryen colours.

Her mind spun too fast, her thoughts turbulent and impossible to understand. Everything was a mess, everything was colours and sensations and images, abstract and shattered. Her whole being was being reconstructed again as she stood in front of those doors, Jon at her side nodding to the guards to open them to reveal what must've been the Great Hall. In a trance, Dany stepped into the room, light falling over her through the glass roof, laying patterned shadows over her skin and painting the warm hall with gold and silver. She could see the faint dust floating in the air in its rays. The marble floors were patterned, full of white and beige as the walls and windows were white and gold and red. On the other side of it, on a dais, there were two simply carved wooden thrones. They were indistinguishable, equal in all ways with black and silver detailing.

Dany went up the few steps slowly, not believing for a moment that she was there. Everything surrounding her was real, not a dream or a reverie brought by longing. Her fantasy lay bare and true before her eyes, and still, she could not believe it. It felt too perfect, too sacred. Finally, she stopped before one of the high chairs, desiring to touch it but incapable of doing so.

She feared if her skin laid upon it, everything would dissipate.

Jon took his time in reaching her, and he took hold of her hand again. Behind them, steps could be heard and gasps echoed in the previously empty hall.

"Every castle must have its sovereign's throne," he started, quiet just for her to hear it as he laid their hands on the arm of the left one. "From the lowest household to the King himself, a throne is always present in the house of a Lord." The wood was warm under her fingers, incredibly smooth and too detailed for it to be anything but real. "Your cousin made sure to have two done for us." Her breath hitched and she turned her eyes to his solemn face.

He turned towards the people entering the Great Hall, and Dany followed him. Jon rose his arm, and she dropped her hand dauntingly over his fist. He turned his hand and took hold of her hand as propriety obliged, turning to the various faces that were looking up at them with various ranges of emotions. She followed his eyes, gazing down at the wary glares of Baratheon loyalists, the hopeful gazes of the Targaryen supporters, fearing the greedy needy eyes that looked at them and, finally, to the warm looks that came from those who loved her, admired her.

It was in their eyes that Dany found security and confidence to raise her chin high and set her posture straight. Sunlight streamed through the great ceiling above her, and she could see the sky, and her castle's towers, and the great mountains that guarded them. Her heart was beating fast and her blood flowed through her veins, hot and burning with life that threatened to burst out. She drew breath, she brimmed with energy and youth, her mind was clear. Reality sunk its claws into her, painful and magnificent as life was, and Dany knew.

She wasn't alone. I am not alone.

Jon stood strong beside her, her friends supported her, her allies were ready to follow her. Dany was not alone. Not everything was alright, and maybe it wouldn't ever be, but she was not alone, and she could move on, she could make things better.

"Welcome!" Jon said, unflinching and not shy at all. She felt as if he had waited a long time for this moment. So did I. "I welcome you into our home, the Crown Castle, and our lands. Queenscrown welcomes you, as do I." He looked at her by the corner of his eyes, face unmoving. "And mine own lady wife."

Everything grew sharper, the faces in front of her bared names and meaning she could not ignore. She stood before enemies. No longer a child seeking protection behind her guardian. No. Daenerys looked down at Lord Stannis this time, distant and sitting on a chair of a power of her own. He wouldn't protect her forever.

Jon nudged her as Ramsay stepped forward, calling their names to the crowd as if they didn't know it. He sat on his chair and she did the same, keeping her head high and her face as regal as she'd pictured her lady mother's. Ramsay called for Lord Stannis as their regent, and Dany met his gaze and held it until he moved to stand beside her, putting one hand on her shoulder, his eyes intent.

She smirked at him as Jon looked at them with a curious expression.

"Shall we begin?"

•••

A/N: :)

BioHazard82, RHatch89, thank you! Guest, it's way shorter yeah. And maybe a bit too rushed, tbh. Guest, I'm glad you guys are enjoying it despite the awful (and inexistent, let's be honest) update schedule. Hitman, now it's not. :) Bella-swan11, well, Myranda won't kill Jon then, at least not for that.

I know you are high on the feelings right now, probably. Hopefully? But, anyway, hear me out. There's already a post about Queenscrown's looks and map for you in my Tumblr. No, the heating one is not there, maybe I'll make it, maybe not.

Let's address this chapter per scene, shall we? Dany is not pregnennent, pragnat, or pregnant. People around her ARE aware she is too young, but she isn't. The main characters are not always right, and this is the main theme of the chapter, I'd guess. Dany thinks she is grown and mature enough for life, but she doesn't notice that she still has much to learn, the same as Jon.

The shadowcat's death was a turning point for her, and it made her realise that yes, she was wrong about Mel, and not everything was as good and fine as she believed. She saw the real word at that moment, she saw reality as clear and cruel and not as black and white as she believed. It hurt her, destroyed her brutally.

Jon's harsh actions in his chapter were not without consequences, and his insistence in not listen to those around him and not speaking for them to understand him shows clearly and is the result of their first conflict. And as true teenagers, they did not deal with either of their problems correctly, attacking and butting in in the other's matters because they think they know they are in right.

About Cat, well, lay your bets and tell me how bad you think that will end. :) A clue: a lot of fire. And blood. But in all seriousness, that scene is probably my favourite one. It was so much fun writing and re-writing it so it would be just the way I wanted.

The last scene was very descriptive, but I tried to make it quick and at least pleasant. By now, my post regarding Queenscrown's construction is already out. Here's the link:

post/177838670584/queenscrowns-construction

Excited to know your thoughts, see ya!

~Mari