A/N: Another chapter, just because you are all amazing readers! I hope I was able to keep everyone most canon! I apologize if characters seemed OC!
Chapter 11: Without Any Gods
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Dany lay in her chambers; her hand caressed her stomach distractedly. She felt her heart plunge to her feet, the blood in her veins running cold. The Targaryen heir turned, burying her face in her arms. She blocked everything out, Jon's promise for vengeance, and his voice in her head reminded her that she needed to rest. What had she really expected? Her mercy for their lives would only be repaid on the attempted murder of her children. Sinking into her billowy sheets, she willed away the rest of the memories that had led her to her current predicament and sighed. This complete upheaval in her emotions, the feeling that she'd made the wrong choices all along began to weigh heavily on her. She would not become a vague shadow of a queen who would forever remain, in Westeros' mind, the shiny example of perfection. She would rule as Daenerys Targaryen, fire and blood, the last dragon.
The whispers of Margaery Stark brought Dany out of her musings. Violet eyes fluttered open to look into a pair of soft browns. The face before her smiled kindly, "Ah, you're awake. Good, I was beginning to worry. I thought I may need to call one of the royal physicians."
Shuffling into a sitting position, Dany retorted coldly, "Yes, after the last one tried to kill my children."
Margaery looked taken aback, before her gaze darkened, "The Lannisters'." She concluded quietly.
"They seem to only stop after they are dead." Her tone wasn't angry or bitter, it was matter-of-fact. She seemed distant, in a dreamlike state, staring ahead with a faraway gaze.
"Have faith in Jon, he will do what is right." Margaery's words caused her heart to speed up with dizzying speeds at the mention of her husband, her kind and merciful husband. She masked her surprise quickly enough and willed her heart to slow.
Ruthlessly, Dany destroyed the tiny flicker of hope that kindled in her that Jon could kill in cold blood. Refused to meet Margaery's gentle stare, she lifted her face to the sky, eyes closed and breathed deeply. No, Jon was not cruel like her. He was kind, noble, a Stark, he was her sanity, and he was everything she couldn't be.
Dany looked at Margaery, her eyes branding her flesh, cutting into her soul like a sharp knife. "Jon is not a monster, he be merciful when most are unable to be. He is not me." She averted her gaze, feeling naked under the new Lady of Winterfell's ever knowing eyes. "I don't want him to ever be like me, numb to taking a life." She mumbled, knowing Margaery would hear her despite her low tone.
"I understand," Margaery whispered, she took her queen's hand and squeezed it gently. "You are no monster, Dany."
Dany offered her a small smile, "Thank you." It was hard to swallow the lump that rose in her throat as she forced her gaze back to her swelling stomach. Suddenly, she wished she was sixteen again, with the wonder and excitement, even the fear that she had experienced the first time she arrived in Winterfell, a thought of true freedom away from her brother, from Khal Drogo, from her mad father's legacy. She had been sadly mistaken. She sighed and dared a glance at her companion, smiling fondly as the beautiful brunette stared at her own forming belly, rubbing it tenderly. "How far along are you?"
Margaery looked up in surprise before smiling softly, "Two months the physician believes."
"Our children will grow up together," Dany spoke happily.
"Yes," Margaery laughed in delight. "I never thought the blood of the north would flow in my children's veins. I could not be happier. Robb, he is everything and more then I could have prayed for in a husband."
"He's not Joffrey," Dany concluded and Margaery nodded grimly. Dany squeezed her hand. "You deserve to be happy."
"Thank you, Dany." Margaery glanced at the queen's stomach sympathetically. "I'm sure they will be fine."
Dany sighed, stroking her stomach. "I can only pray to the Old Gods that they take mercy upon my children."
"If I may ask, where did you and Jon marry?" Margaery hoped to change the subject.
Dany blinked in surprise, smiling gently as if overcome by a fond memory. "It was a year ago, in Winterfell, in the Godswood before the heart tree. We pledged our love for one another and consummated our marriage. For a night, we forgot the war."
Margaery smiled, "Can you imagine ever loving another?"
"Never," The dragon queen smiled. "In life, death, or another lifetime, he will forever be my only love."
Jon sat upon his throne, Ghost nobly at his side. Robb, Ned, Varys, Tyrion, Missandei, Grey Worm, and Ser Barristan sat closely by, as did three other direwolves. Before him now stood Tywin Lannister, Petyr Baelish, and the royal physician, surrounded by the Unsullied officers under Grey Worm's command.
Jon brushed his hand across his lips for a moment, contemplatively, "Do you know why you have been summoned?"
Tywin was the first to speak, "No, I'm afraid I was not informed when I was unceremoniously dragged from my home."
Petyr smirked mockingly, "I am at a loss as well, I'm afraid. Do you require our assistance? I'm sure running a country as large as Westeros is no easy task for a young boy."
Jon smirked coldly, "And I suppose it was your splendid assistance that aided that monster of a king to rule so effortlessly?"
Petyr's smile dissolved quickly, eyes narrowed. "Yes, well, assistance can only be given to ears that are willing to listen." His hands fisted behind his back.
"Of course," Jon agreed scathingly. His hand rested on Longclaw's hilt as he cast a sideways glance at Tyrion. "The Lord of Casterly Rock, Tyrion Lannister will now inform you of the crimes you have been charged with." Tywin glared at him, he had purposely called his dwarf son of the title Daenerys had striped him off to irk him.
Tyrion came forward, a scroll of parchment in his hand. He bowed to Jon, "As you wish, your Grace." His icy glare blazed over all three men. "You have been charged with treason to harm the royal family."
"That's absurd!" Tywin bellowed, shaking his head at such a heinous thought.
"As mad as the thought is, what proof do you have to spout such claims?" Petyr raised a brow challengingly to the King of Westeros.
Jon smiled calmly in return, "The man who stands beside you." He nodded to the physician. "This is your only chance to speak or you too will share their sentencing." The physician cowered under his cold stare, despite Jon's smile. His control was slipping and his grip on Longclaw tightened, Ghost sensed his master's growing incense, his lips curled back in his own growing exasperation. He knew the command that lingered to be spoken rested on his master's tongue, which furthered to fuel his frustration. Jon settled a hand on his direwolf's head, patting his beast in soothing strokes. His voice was frighteningly kind as he spoke to the physician, "You are trying my patience."
"O-of course," The doctor stuttered, bowing as he stepped forward.
Tyrion was the first to speak, "Are the claims true, these two men paid you to spy on the queen during her travel to Astapor and to report back to them?" The quivering man nodded. "Is it also true you were paid to poison the queen to kill her children and herself included?"
The man cried out, collapsing to his knees, "Yes! Yes, it's all true! I beg your forgiveness, my king! I was unable to carry out their requests; I could not bring myself to harm innocent lives!"
"Shut up you blubbering idiot!" Tywin snapped furiously, "How dare you blame me for such a crime!"
Jon silenced him with a warning glare, "Speak out of turn again and I will rip your tongue out myself."
"You insolent little child, you dare to speak to me in such a manner?" Tywin thundered, his eyes so furious, a ring of white around the pupil was noticeable in his rage.
"What makes you think you can speak so freely to your king, my son?" Eddard shouted furiously.
"Enough!" Tyrion interrupted. He turned back to the sobbing physician. "If you did not poison the queen, why was she so ill?"
"I was unable to poison her, but Lord Baelish made me give her a medicine that would make her weak! I did not know it would cause her body to be unable to hold nutrients! I swear!" He explained quickly.
Jon's eyes seemed to narrow into fine slits mirroring that of his wolf as he stared down the man begging for his life. "You thought by giving her such a medicine you wouldn't harm her, or her children? My children? You thought my children wouldn't starve without nutrients? Your queen could survive without nourishment especially while pregnant? You thought prolonging her suffering was more merciful?" Suddenly, realization dawned on the trembling man and he stiffened.
"I-I did not know!" He stumbled over his words as Jon searched his eyes for any deception. He found it.
"Of course you knew," Jon spoke quietly, his eyes beginning to bleed anger. "You are a doctor, you would know, and yet you continued to give them to her, for months. Any longer and she would have died along with my children."
"I-I'm sorry, so sorry, your Grace!" The man kneeled on his knees, shaking like the final leaf of summer on a tree being torn from its root by a harsh winter wind. "I beg your forgiveness!"
After the man's sudden burst of emotion, everything seemed to stop. The silence was deafening, but it was broken with softest of whispers escaping Jon's lips, "Ghost." And the sound of flesh meeting flesh when Ghost lunged at the man's neck, lips curled back in a snarl, red eyes burning for the taste of blood. The man's body fell backwards from the force of the blow as the direwolf tore into his neck far too quickly for the man to even scream. Ghost stood bristled over the doctor's dead body, his lips open in a silent cry, the whites of his eyes visible in the contorted face. The direwolf's muzzle was stained crimson. He eyed down the two men who stood fearfully a few feet away. Jon paused, taking in their shocked expressions as he spoke, his voice hollow, empty, and devoid of any feelings it usually carried. "Will you speak truthfully now, or do either of you requires another demonstration of what happens to those who commit treason under my rule?"
Petyr was the first to speak, "My king, I had no hand in this horrid scheme, I promise you!"
"You scoundrel!" Tywin hissed.
Jon leaned back in his throne, and he felt a hand press against his shoulder. He looked up to meet his father's brown gaze that was mirrored in his own. They looked upon him with sympathy and he cursed silently. He didn't want or need pity. "Since neither of you can seem to agree on who gave the order on my wife and children's life, you will both share an equal punishment."
"How will you punish us, boy?" Tywin smirked. "A few years in the dungeons?"
Jon chuckled, "No, it will be trial by combat." Tywin's once amused look turned hateful as he glared upon the young king. He raised a brow, "Do you fear you will be defeated by a boy?"
"Of course not," Tywin snapped coldly.
"Jon, you cannot be serious!" Ned whispered to his son, eyes concerned.
"I am," Jon spoke solemnly. "I will win."
"Jon, allow me to help you!" Robb came to his side, his hand resting upon Ice.
"Thank you, Robb. But this is my battle." Jon murmured as he stood, fingers woven around Longclaw. "Those are my children and wife they attempt to murder. This is one battle I won't allow anyone else to fight."
Tywin chuckled, low, threatening, menacing, as he removed his own sword from its hilt. He glanced at Petyr, who suddenly appeared pale. He shoved his shoulder, "Don't look so worried. He's just a boy who's allowed the power of a king seep into his head."
Jon strode down the steps until he stood toe to toe with the former Lord of Casterly Rock. His gaze was frigid, his tone even colder. "You could have prevented all this."
Tywin smiled cruelly, "Could I have? Yes. Should I have? Possibly. Did I? Not at all."
Deep-rooted resentment for this man rose in him, Jon removed Longclaw from its sheath. "I have no allegiance for murders. You, your family, your lives are meaningless to me as the dust under my feet." Anger carried him forward, and anger had a voice. Fury, panic, and a flash of fear combined in the former lord, threatened to strip away the remnants of his composure.
Tywin laughed, "I almost liked you Jon Snow, and sadly you must die today." He then whipped the sword towards the Stark king.
Jon leapt back to avoid the sword slicing the air, it rounded in a wide arc before Tywin twisted it to aim another swift blow, but Jon raised Longclaw to block it. He eyed the gray-haired man. "I never thought a Lannister would resort to such dirty tricks."
Tywin smirked, "Whatever it takes to win, I'm sure you know that well, don't you bastard?" He taunted with a deep chuckle. He dove forward with his sword raised to intercept Jon's own blow. "You're not too bad."
"Sadly, I cannot say the same in return," Jon murmured as he twisted Longclaw, Tywin's eyes widened. He careened off course and stumbled, end over end, Longclaw embedding itself into the raw flesh of his left thigh. Petyr grabbed his discarded sword and lunged at Jon, but he was swifter. Jon dove to the side, rolling to his feet, and drew Longclaw to rest at his side, the once shining steel now cloaked in glistening red. Petyr sprang up again, yelling as he rushed forward, Jon blocked his attack. It was his second attack, when Petyr removed a hidden dagger and sliced it through the leather and into muscle of Jon's shoulder, tearing downwards until it left a gruesome gash. He smashed Longclaw's hilt into Petyr's face until he stumbled back with a strangled cry.
Jon yanked the dragger from his flesh until it fell to the ground with heavy thud. Tywin launched himself at Jon; he was a moment too late as Jon caught Tywin's shoulder and tossed him back. The old Lannister slammed into a pillar, and fell to his hands and knees as he fought back a wince, forcing back the nausea at the sudden pain that shot through his leg.
As Jon closed in on the wounded lion, Little Finger used the dagger to sheath to lock around his neck. Thinking quickly as blurriness began to cloud his vision, Jon swung his head back until it connected with a sickening impact with Petyr's nose, and with an earth-shattering screech Little Finger covered his face and back away as blood trickled from his nose and the edge of his mouth. Jon caught his head with a hand and raised his knee to connect painfully with his gut, Petyr crumbled and smacked against the ground.
Jon advanced on Petyr's momentary weakness to heave Longclaw over his shoulder. Petyr shrieked in pain and rage as the blade struck his bowels and tore open the skin with a revolting gurgle. A fine spray of blood spurted out from the butchered bowels and onto Jon's face. Blood flowed from the opening like a newly made river, quick and free.
"You'll pay for this!" Petyr spluttered, choking on his own blood.
"I'll kill you!" Tywin raged as he shot forward on with his last ounce of strength, he swung furiously with his sword as Jon managed to sidestep his first assault, but his second managed to nick him in the chest. Blood oozed from the new wound, streaming down his leather chemise. Jon slashed at the lion's wounded thigh, Tywin screeched in pain, crumbling in a puddle of red liquid. The old lion's eyes flashed fury as he brought his glower up to meet Jon's brown stare, it flickered with pity. That furthered Tywin's anger. Now unable to bear weight on his injured leg, he staggered to his feet. "I will not die seeing your pity!" He stumbled towards him, swinging his sword across Jon's cheek as Longclaw whipped through the air and burrowed through Tywin's chest plate. Crimson droplets that looked like jewels trickled down Longclaw and rained down to the ground like tears of blood. Tywin's eyes pulsed brown to black with the final beat of his heart. With a sickening, sucking noise, Jon jerked Longclaw free, staring at the hollow eyes of Tywin Lannister as his body fell to the ground.
Tyrion came to his side as Jon cast him a saddened expression, "I'm sorry, Tyrion."
"Don't be," Tyrion murmured thoughtfully as he gazed down his father. "He was no father of mine. He deserved to die without any family and without any Gods."
Ned came to his son's side, "Come; let's get you stitched up." Jon nodded mutely.
"Tyrion, please arrange for their bodies to be disposed of and mess to be cleaned up." Jon spoke his last order as he sheathed his Valyrian sword and followed his father and brother. He paused to turn to Missandei, "I'm sorry you had to see that, but please return to your chambers, and tell Grey Worm for him and his men to go and rest."
"Yes, my king," Missandei bowed.
"Call me, Jon."
She smiled faintly, "As you wish, Jon."
After another royal physician had him stitched up under the watchful eye of his father, he excused himself to return to his chambers. As he opened the door, he saw Dany lying there on the bed, her violet gaze resting upon his weary one. She rose from her spot, patting the open space next to her. Resting Longclaw on the chair, he gratefully sat down beside her. Leaning up, she cupped his cheek with a delicate hand.
"Talk to me," She whispered pleadingly. "Are you alright?" She took in the sight of the sliver on his cheek, his heavily bandaged torso. "Say something." Her voice was soft, but firm as she moved closer to him, drawing his face to rest on her breast.
"Are you alright? Are they?" He murmured against soft silk of her gown against her supple flesh. She easily heard the worry in his drained voice.
"We're all fine," She put his concerns to rest, for a moment anyways.
"They're dead." Jon spoke bluntly.
"I know," Dany's hushed voice was soothing to his ears. "I heard their screams." He was willing to pretend it never happened.
"Do not let the darkness that comes with death consume you," She begged, there was a knowing in her violet eyes, and obvious concern for him. She whispered more composedly, "I know the numbness that can come with taking someone's life. I never want you to feel that way, Jon. When you do, you have truly lost a part of yourself."
"Dany," Jon protested, he drew away from her touch and glared at her. She sensed the change and retracted her hand as if it burned too greatly. He saw the sadness swelling in her eyes, his gaze immediately gentled. "I'm sorry, but I don't ever want to hear you talk in such a manner. You are fire, Dany. You are light in the darkness, warmth in the cold, passionate and strong. There is nothing lost in you."
Dany leaned up on her knees, brushing away stray curls as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Her warmth flowed into him, chasing the pain away. "Taking a life is never easy. It hurts. I know it hurts, even if it someone who deserves it." Her tone was bitter for a moment with a thought of the Lannisters she had killed, but it was gone as quickly. Taking his hands in hers, she continued softly. "I know there is nothing I can do to make it stop hurting, but don't allow this hurt to destroy your light. People need you, I need you, more then you will ever realize."
Jon drew her to him, lying on the bed and burying his face into her neck. "Thank you, Dany." He whispered tiredly. She stroked his hair, her lips sweet against his temple.
"Sleep now," Dany coaxed to him gently, and he did so.
End of Chapter!
I hope you all enjoyed and please, please review!
A/N: First and foremost, thank you to those amazing readers who continue to review every chapter! I love you so dearly for doing so! Second, any questions, pm or leave in a review and I will try to answer them in a pm or in future chapters! Thank you all again! For those who may not understand, killing someone is never easy, enemy or not, at least I think so. Basically, the beginning was Dany's way of saying she hopes Jon does not become numb to taking a life as she is becoming. Because it makes you almost inhuman if you can do so, which is why Jon is so weary and almost in a way broken after the battle. Hope that makes sense! Also, Missandei was only there because Jon cannot speak Valyrian to communicate with Grey Worm, and the other officers. And Jon gets injured because if he didn't it would seem unrealistic, even he can't be that good that quickly!