Chapter 22

Daenerys

The first thing she felt was the cold air on her skin when it was normally warm. She blinked, and opened her eyes, squinting against the light that came in from the balcony. Jon's side of the bed was empty but there were traces that he had slept in it in the creases of the sheets. She shifted and looked about the empty chambers. Then she sat up, no longer light headed as she had felt the night before. At that thought, she looked down, her hand coming up to touch her abdomen. She smiled, feeling an indescribable happiness, one she had felt years ago but had been marred by fear of the impending war.

As she basked in the joy she felt at the thought of their child growing in her, she realised it was a feeling she rarely felt without Jon by her side. But in a way, even now, a part of Jon was with her, in her. How and when she had come to need him so, she did not know. Daenerys knew it was always dangerous to let herself feel like this for another but she could not bring herself to regret this or even try to stop it. Something so beautiful can't be wrong. Can it?

There was a knock and Daenerys gave her leave to enter. She smiled, eagerly, expecting to see her husband but instead, Missandei entered.

"Good morning, your Grace," Missandei bowed.

Her smile faltered just slightly, turning to that of amusement at herself; at how giddy she was at the thought of seeing Jon. She felt more a young naïve princess than a Queen. She shook her head at herself.

"Good morning, Missandei," she replied, trying to contain her grin.

But her confidante had already noticed her exceedingly good mood and was approaching her with a curious smile of her own. Missandei helped her out of bed then, "are you feeling better, your Grace?"

Daenerys nodded and looked meaningfully at her. Missandei paused, glancing down to her hand on her abdomen before her eyes widened. Daenerys nodded in confirmation to her silent question and they hugged.

"Congratulations, your Grace," Missandei said softly. Then Missandei drew a bath for her at her request, the steam rising from the water just as she knew Daenerys preferred. She appreciated Missandei's efforts in preparing such baths. The water could easily scald her if Missandei was not careful. Daenerys sighed as her body, which she did not realised was tensed, relaxed in the hot water.

"Do you know where the King went?" Daenerys asked, her eyes closed as Missandei ran a soft towel over her back.

"I saw him in the gardens with the Starks,"

Daenerys smiled, knowing just how much Jon had missed his family. The capital was truly different from Winterfell, "I'm glad," she replied.

"The King has also told me to inform your Grace that there would be a horse racing event for the tourney today but he would attend with the Hand and your Grace need not trouble yourself. He advised that you rest this day," Missandei said. Daenerys felt a twinge of annoyance at the liberty Jon took but then she recalled the soft look in his eyes as he gazed at her the night before and the last of the fire of her annoyance sizzled away. She smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

Once she had completed her bath, Missandei reached for a new nightdress but Daenerys shook her head, "something presentable but comfortable,"

Missandei frowned, "you should be resting, your Grace,"

Daenerys sighed, "I am well, my friend. Don't worry yourself," she assured and held Missandei's gaze for a moment before the girl relented and fetched a white dress for her. It was light and comfortable, just as Daenerys had wanted. She slipped it on and allowed Missandei to braid her hair just so it would not fall into her face. Daenerys no longer felt the need or want to have all her hair braided.

Then she stood and left the chambers. Outside the door, Qhono and Kovarro were standing guard. They nodded to her as she emerged and followed closely on her heel.

"Did you see the Prince this morning?" Daenerys turned to Missandei, who was walking by her side.

Missandei shook her head, "no but at this hour, the Prince normally has his lessons in the training yard,"

"Riding?" Daenerys asked, noticing Aggo's absence.

Missandei nodded, "yes and sword fighting,"

"Again?" Daenerys mused.

"The Prince insists to have those lessons every day. He enjoys them very much," Missandei said, "his language lessons with this one and history lessons with Maester Samwell, not so much," Daenerys chuckled, shaking her head. As a child, she always harboured a mischievous streak but she loved the books and going outside equally. She could only guess Jaehaerys got his love for sparring and training in the yards from Jon. She smiled, mentally noting to talk with Jon about his childhood more frequently; she enjoyed those stories of Winterfell that he told her.

As they approached the yard, Daenerys could hear the familiar clashing of swords and she could smell the musk of sweat and horses. The yard was crowded but it was no long before she spotted the Prince. She smiled as she saw her son, dressed in light leather armour and his hair pulled back, not unlike how Jon used to wear his hair when she had first saw him at Dragonstone, and even now. He really looked like his father in that moment and Daenerys felt her heart warm at that thought.

Daenerys raised her brows when she noticed he was not wielding a wooden sword but a steel sword.

"Your Grace," a knight nearby saw her and sank to his knees. Then the others saw and they stopped and sank to their knees, greeting her. Jaehaerys turned, seeing all the knights on their knees. Horror and fear crossed his face. But when he saw her, the fear was gone, chased away with a wide grin.

"Mother!" he dropped his sword and ran to her. She smiled, gesturing for the knights to rise. Jaehaerys stopped in front of her and bowed in greeting, "Mother," Daenerys crouched and open her arms to him. He shook his head adamantly, "no. I don't want to ruin your dress," he pointed out and Daenerys smiled, amused to see that his leather armour was caked with mud and dirt.

She gently brushed his hair back from his face, "what are you doing?"

"Training! With Arya!" he exclaimed.

"Your Grace," she looked up to see Arya coming up behind Jaehaerys, a sword held behind her back as she bowed.

Daenerys looked at her reproachfully, "you know there is no need for that, Arya," Arya smiled, nodding. Then she turned to her son, reaching for him, "why did you look scared when you saw the knights kneel?"

Jaehaerys swiftly ducked under her hand and ran to hide behind Arya. Daenerys gaped, surprised. He had never refused her touch before. Arya only laughed, "he thought it was Jon," she explained.

Daenerys raised a brow, peering at Jaehaerys who was not looking at her.

Arya continued, "Jon does not allow him to use steel swords. Only wooden ones,"

"Real sword are dangerous," Daenerys admitted, eyeing Jaehaerys in amusement. He seemed to be preparing himself for a tongue lashing, his head bowed so low she could not see his little cherubic face. He stiffened visibly when he heard her.

"They are blunted, your Grace," Arya said, grabbing the sword she held with her bare hand and handing it to her, hilt first. Daenerys took it and touched the tip with her palm. It was indeed blunt.

"Then I don't see why the Prince cannot practice with swords," Daenerys replied and instantly, Jaehaerys perked up and his eyes lit up.

"Really, Mother?" he ran from behind Arya to stand before her.

She crouched so she could look at him levelled, "yes, really. But I understand why your father would not approve. Swords are still swords and can be dangerous. So you have to promise me, you will be careful," she handed him the sword.

Jaehaerys nodded solemnly as he took the sword but his eyes were bright with joy. Then Daenerys turned to Arya.

"May I speak with you, sister?"

Arya blinked, "of course," she then turned to Jaehaerys, "go for your horse riding lessons, little white wolf, I'll be with you in a while,"

Jaehaerys nodded, grinning, "Aggo ezzolat anna ovvethat hrazef (Aggo will teach me to shoot with a bow on a horse)!"

He turned and ran to the stables. Arya looked confused, not understanding a word but Daenerys raised her brows in worry.

"Aggo is going to teach me to shoot today! From horseback!" Jaehaerys shouted over his shoulder at Arya, seeming to remember Arya did not understand.

Daenerys turned to Qhono beside her, "Khalakka sekke imesh ezolat ovvethat hrazef (the prince is too young to learn to shoot from horseback)," beside her, Arya was watching her speak curiously.

"Khaleesi, Khalakka vos sekke imesh (the Prince is not too young)," Qhono replied, "Rakh ezolat dothralat hatif ifat ma ezolat ovvethat tor (boys learn to ride horses before they could walk and they learn shoot from horseback by 4)"

Daenerys frowned, "Khalakka vos vezhak (The Prince is not a horse lord),"

Qhono shook his head, "Vo, vosma Khalakka vitisherat vezhak. Me azho, (no, but the Prince has been raised to be a horse lord. He has a gift)," he looked to a distance and she followed his gaze to see Jaehaerys reaching the stables where Aggo held the reins of his pony. She watched as Jaehaerys mounted the pony smoothly and urged it into a sprint before turning it around back to the stables. The animal was completely obedient, "Khalakka ivezholat ma hajolat ei asshekh (the Prince grows fierce and strong everyday)," she watched Aggo show Jaehaerys how to wield the bow and how to nock the arrow, "Khalakka haj lajak (the Prince will be a strong warrior),"

She watched Jaehaerys take the bow from Aggo and as he studied the bow in his hand, he urged the horse to walk and stand in front of the target.

Arya turned to her then, "Jaehaerys is very good on a horse," she commented.

Daenerys nodded, "Aggo has been training with him. You don't disapprove," she observed, referring to the fact that Jaehaerys was learning to shoot, and from horseback, at such a young age. It was apparent the Westerosi did not start these things so young. This was the Dothraki way.

"Neither do you," Arya smiled.

Daenerys chuckled, "I worry," she sighed as she admitted, "but no, I don't disapprove. The Dothraki boy learn to ride young," they both knew it would serve Jaehaerys well in the future, even if there would be bumps and bruises now.

"Let's just keep this from Jon for a while," Arya's smile widened. Her eyes twinkling in amusement, "he can be ridiculously protective over Jaehaerys,"

"Did he really chide Jaehaerys for training with blunt training swords?" Daenerys asked.

Arya laughed, "Jaehaerys said it was the first time Jon had properly shouted at him. Poor little white wolf did not even dare to touch the sword just now when I offered it to him,"

"He did in the end," Daenerys pointed out.

Arya nodded, rolling her eyes, "only after I told him I would protect him from Jon, assuring him Needle would not lose to Longclaw," she glanced at the sword at her hip then she looked at her, "but-" she hesitated. And Daenerys waited, "could you keep that from Jon? That Jaehaerys trained with real swords today, with me,"

Daenerys laughed, "Arya, lying to his Grace is a punishable offence," she teased.

Arya grinned, "and the law gets a little complicated when one Monarch commits that offence against the other," Daenerys looked at her incredulously but she was unable to keep her smile off her face.

Daenerys thoroughly enjoyed Arya. In a way, Arya reminded her of herself; a youthful mischief that always lurked beneath the surface, the urge to fight at the frontlines than stay behind as the damsel, the lack of know how to or care for lady-like mannerisms or skills. But in a way, Daenerys felt she has changed. Daenerys now looked at what other ladies did curiously and longingly; how they would curtsy prettily to their Lords, how they could sew their own dresses and sew something for their Lord husband and beautiful children. She had felt a strange urge to want to do those things, for Jon. She remembered Sansa's surprise when she had asked Sansa to teach her to curtsy; she was surprised the Queen wanted or even needed to learn. But Sansa had taught her patiently and the look on Jon's face at the feast as she curtsied to him would forever be kept in her mind, close to her heart.

"I'll keep it in mind to bring that matter up to the Master of Law," Daenerys said and Arya laughed. Daenerys glanced sideways to her before she decided to ask, "I saw you with Lord Baratheon at the feast," Daenerys had not missed that she was not the only one of the two of them who had a sudden interest in being a lady.

Arya turned to her, genuinely confused before realisation dawned upon her and she chuckled, "Gendry you mean," Daenerys nodded, "Lord Baratheon… I don't think it ever occurred to me to call him that," a twinkle of mischief shone in her eyes.

"Arya, if I were to betrothed you to Gendry, would you like that?" Daenerys asked.

Arya choked, "what?" she turned to her.

"I mean no offense. You are free to make your own choices and to refuse me," Daenerys said, "but I can tell you're very fond of him,"

An uncharacteristic blush seemed to find its way to her face then and Daenerys noticed, not for the first time, that Arya had grown into a beautiful young lady; especially now with her cheeks blushing prettily. She did not reply.

"I could make it happen, Arya, as Queen. You are at the right age to wed," Daenerys smiled, "as is Gendry. The Lord of Storm's End would not refuse,"

Arya paused, her eyes not meeting Daenerys', "I thought he would talk to me…about us…at the feast, when he asked me to dance, but he did not," she said quietly, almost disappointed.

"Have the two of you ever spoken of marriage?" Daenerys asked.

Arya looked up then, shaking her head, "the contents of the letters we exchanged are nothing of importance. He would share with me how difficult it was to be Lord of Storm's End and I would tell him how easy I had it at Winterfell," she smiled forlornly.

"So you have never spoken of your feelings for each other?"

Arya's cheeks began to colour again and she shook her head.

"I would assume you have not consummated your love as well,"

Arya choked and her face turned red, "Daenerys!"

Daenerys laughed, "I was only jesting, sister," she smiled, "well, not about your feelings. Why have you not told Gendry how you feel?" she asked.

Arya sighed, "I did tell him I miss him and I wanted to see him. In the letters," her shoulders drooped, "and he only said we would meet at the tourney," her eyes looked sad and helpless as she looked at Daenerys, "I don't think he likes me, honestly. I am just a little brother to him,"

Daenerys raised a brow. She had seen the face of the Lord of Storm's End at the feast as he gazed upon the lady he danced with. There was no denying it; Daenerys saw it in Jon's eyes as well, every time he looked at her and her at him, "that is not what I saw," Daenerys commented airily, glancing amusedly as Arya straightened at her words. But Daenerys did not say more.

"Tell me," Arya looked at her, her eyes hopeful as she beseeched.

Daenerys smiled, "if I were to propose the betrothal, he would not refuse," she repeated simply, "and not because his Queen ordered it,"

"Really?" Arya's brows knitted.

Daenerys nodded and a small smile curved over Arya's lips then.

"It is good to have you back, sister," Arya said suddenly, a grin on her face. Daenerys felt her middle warm as Arya addressed her as such; a member of the pack. Daenerys opened her arm to her and Arya stepped closer to her side, not a hint of hesitation, and hugged her firmly, "you are so warm," Arya said and then teased, "no wonder Jon could not keep away. He spent his life in the North but never really learn to like the cold,"

Daenerys laughed.

"Your Grace!"

Daenerys turned at the cry of alarm to see a knight stumbling back into her. At her side, she glimpsed her bloodriders begin to step forward and she instinctively brought her hand up to her belly protectively. Then suddenly, she felt a gloved hand close around her arm, yanking her to the side. She stumbled but was caught by the same person who had pulled her away.

The stumbling armoured knight crashed to the ground where Daenerys had stood, his sword flying out of his hand.

"You shouldn't stand in the middle of the training yard," a voice muttered.

She turned and looked up into the face of Jaime Lannister. She lowered her hands from his chest and stepped back. His arm around her loosened and he let her. Behind her, the knight scrambled to his knees, begging her forgiveness. Daenerys gestured for him to rise, "it was an accident, Ser. Be more careful," she said and he bowed twice before he left.

She turned to Jaime Lannister. He looked better than the last time she saw him; when he had been dragged before her from his cell. He was wearing a leather brown tunic, a dagger and a sword on each hip. His eyes were fixed on her, sad. Without a word, she turned.

"Daenerys," he croaked.

She paused, turning to look at him in disbelief, "I do not remember giving you leave to address me as such, Lord Lannister,"

His brows rose, as if in pain, and he swallowed, "forgive me, your Grace," he bowed and Daenerys knew he was not asking forgiveness for how he addressed her, "forgive me," he looked at her, pleading with her.

"You swore to obey me and you did not," she said to him.

"I know I was being impulsive," Jaime said quietly, his eyes downcast, "I was always impulsive… the things I do for love," he mumbled the last part.

She blinked as she heard, just barely, "you forget yourself, Lord Lannister," she said sharply.

"Jaime," he said, and when his eyes met hers, she almost flinched at the pained look in them, as if he had been physically hurt, "you call me Jaime," Daenerys turned away then but he spoke again, "let me stay to protect you at least,"

"You are no longer of my Queensguard," she told him, not turning to look at him. When he did not say anymore, she walked out of the training yards.

Beside her, Arya fell in step, "what happened with Jaime Lannister?" she asked

Daenerys glanced sideways at her, "he commanded the Unsullied in my name without my consent,"

Arya frowned, "what for?"

"To fight the Dothraki," Daenerys replied.

"You and Jon fought the Dothraki, on the dragons," Arya stated.

"He did not approve," Daenerys slowed and stopped, turning to Arya, "so he went ahead to do as he liked,"

"What's going to happen to him now?"

"I was going to burn him alive," she said and Arya visibly blanched, "but Tyrion and Jon felt he would be more useful at Casterly Rock, commanding the Lannister army,"

"He was trying to help you, wasn't he?" Arya asked.

"It doesn't make what he did right,"

Jon

Jon was hunched over the scrolls left on the table by Tyrion. He had been at this since he had left the horse racing competition, after he sat through the first 2 rounds in the morning. As he was scrawling his name at the bottom of a scroll to allow for the passing of a new law that the small council had discussed, he heard a knock. He put down his quill then, rolling up the scroll, "enter," he heard the door open and heard approaching footsteps.

He looked up, expecting to see Tyrion turn the corner. But it wasn't.

"Gendry," Jon blinked, surprised to see him.

Gendry Baratheon approached. He looked the same apart from the yellow doublet he wore, stag's antlers embroidered on the doublet and on his chest, a black stag. His black hair was cropped short. As he approached and bowed, Jon gestured for him to rise, "your Grace,"

"Apologies Gendry, I have not spoken with you since you have arrived," Jon stood and came around the table, "and it's still Jon,"

"There's no need for apologies," Gendry smiled as Jon came around and clasped his shoulders.

"How have you been?" Jon asked, looking into his piercing blue eyes.

"Being a Lord is not as easy as it looks," Gendry replied, "I can only imagine how it must be for you, to rule over all the Kingdoms while I am struggling with just one,"

Jon smiled, "it gets easier when you get used to it," he patted his shoulder, "you merely needed to adjust, to be a Lord. Everyone looked to you," Gendry nodded and Jon paused, "you came to me, is there something I can help you with?"

Gendry ducked his head, shifting uncomfortably.

"Speak your mind, Gendry,"

Then he straightened, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked at him. But through his façade, Jon could see that he was nervous; his blue eyes darting even as he struggled to keep them focussed, "Your Grace, I-" Gendry paused and Jon held his tongue to correct him this time, not wanting to rattle the poor lad's nerves anymore, "I would like to ask you for the hand of Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell in marriage,"

Jon stared, stunned.

Gendry looked down then, "I know this is sudden and I am not sure who I should be asking since-" he hesitated, "but you are the King and her brother, who she loves and respects."

As Jon got over his initial shock, he cleared his throat, "Gendry… this is indeed quite sudden," he paused, "but I'm afraid I'm not in a position to give you my sister's hand in marriage. I am not her father and even if I was, she is old enough to make that decision herself,"

Gendry nodded then, his eyes lowering.

Jon said, "but," Gendry looked up, "if you love Arya, you have my blessing to court her," Jon smiled.

Gendry blinked, "court her?" he seemed confused, "how-?"

Now it was Jon's turn to shift uncomfortably, "I suppose I have heard from Sansa and Jeyne back in Winterfell that gifts should be given during courtship,"

Gendry frowned, "what kind of gifts?"

Jon grimaced, "Gendry, I would never presume to know much of courtship. I doubt I am in the best position to advise you on such matters,"

Gendry seemed to panic then, looking about the room before he stared at Jon, "well, how did you court the Queen?" Gendry asked desperately.

"I…didn't," Jon replied simply and Gendry cracked an amused smile, "we were at war, there was no time for that," Jon said defensively.

"There was time for love," Gendry pointed out, "there always seem to be..." his voice trailed off.

Jon paused and pondered, "Daenerys… is not like the other ladies," well, she was never a lady. She is a Queen. How do you court a Queen?

"And Arya is not like any other ladies either," Gendry pointed out, "not that I know a lot of ladies before her but I think you are in the perfect position to advise me,"

Jon sighed and sat down in his chair behind the desk, "well, what do you want to know?"

"How did you tell the Queen how you felt?" Gendry asked, taking a seat opposite him.

Jon massaged his temples, "I didn't, Gendry," Gendry frowned, confused, "she knew. She saw. And she felt the same way and we-" Jon paused, "we're different from how you and Arya can be. We were in the middle of a war and now you're not. It's a better way, a happier one. You can court her, like how a Lord should court a Lady. And if Arya feels the same way, you will have my blessing,"

Gendry pondered then and nodded, "how do you know if a lady is fond of you?"

Jon furrowed his brows and he almost laughed as he realised he was being consulted about courtship and ladies, "I don't know, Gendry. Daenerys just… told me. She is forward in that way,"

"That would make things so much simpler," Gendry muttered and Jon laughed.

"I can't advise you as a man but I can tell you this, as her brother, Arya would appreciate it if you are honest with her," Jon said.

Gendry's eyes widened, "so I just come out and tell her how I feel?"

"Like what you said, Arya is not like any other ladies,"

With that, Gendry nodded and left, still pondering. Jon chuckled to himself then, shaking his head. Now that he thought of it, Daenerys was truly unlike any lady Jon knew from Winterfell. She did not need to be courted. She knew what she wanted and when she wanted it. She had wanted him.

Sometimes Jon thought if that was who she is or merely because she had not been brought up in Westeros and has not received a formal education that a lady would. He smiled as he wondered if Daenerys would abhor learning etiquette, as Arya did, or would she have been like Sansa, dreaming of princes, had her life not been so wrought with hardship.

Then he heard a soft knock and he smiled. Daenerys.

He heard the door open and Jon set aside the scrolls, rising from his chair to meet her, unable to keep the smile from his face. He heard someone enter, a flutter of fabric and heard footsteps approaching. Jon rounded his table and stood before the table, his hands tingling with the anticipation of holding her again. Then a figure turned the corner and he froze. Arianne Martell stood before him.

She was naked.

He felt his breath caught. She was a voluptuous woman, her breasts large but her waist small. Her legs were shapely as she approached him, her wide hips swaying gracefully.

"What are you doing?" he asked, tensed.

"I seek an audience, my King," she replied simply, stopping a distance from him.

"Get out," he growled, keeping his eyes on hers.

"Are you sure?" she only sauntered closer.

"I told you, I will only have one Queen and I already am married to her. I will never marry you," he seethed.

She stood before him, her dark nipples brushing against his leather jerkin, "who is saying anything about marriage now?" he made to step back but he was already pressed against the table, "take me here, now, my King," she insistently leaned closer.

Jon glowered at her, "I would only ever want the Queen," he felt his groin begin to stiffen and he felt his stomach turn in disgust.

Her eyes narrowed and then she smirked, "she's free to join us," her breasts were now fully pressed against his chest. Jon's hands curled into fists by his side but he stilled his hand. He knew his honour forbid that he would ever strike or even raise a hand to a woman but at her words, he thought he could. Then she continued, "you are fool, my King, staying faithful to the Queen. Do you think a woman like her has not had a thousand men before you and does not have a thousand men in her bed even now? As long as it pleases her, with one word from her, her own Queensguard would fuck her however she likes. He is already in love with her,"

Jon froze. Jaime Lannister.

I do not love him. And I could not marry him when I loved another, when I wanted another so much. He could still hear her say to him.

Jon replied Arianne then, strangely calm, "she could for she is beautiful. But she doesn't," he seethed, "why do you dishonour yourself, Lady Martell?"

"Honour?" she laughed, "we are made to love and to make love, and that is all that should be important," she craned her neck, her lips coming closer to his and Jon leaned back, "I want my King now. I don't have to be your Queen. Take me as a paramour and we will discuss the allegiance in a different light,"

Jon froze, staring at her incredulously. She was truly offering Dorne, in exchange for her own personal pleasure. He had not notice her hand on his abdomen before with her breasts pressed up against his chest like that. But he jumped when her hand closed firmly around his groin, which was already straining against his breeches.

Immediately, he shoved her away, hard. She stumbled back into the chair heavily, momentarily shocked.

Then a smirk crossed her features, her eyes fixed on his groin, "oh my foolish King, you want me,"

Jon felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed effortfully, glaring at her. When he was confident he could talk without throwing up, he growled, "you are mad," he turned from her, taking a deep breath.

"Mad with lust for you, my King," she smirked.

Jon turned to her, "Get. Out." His voice low and quiet; dangerous. His hand closed almost instinctively around the pommel of the dagger at his hip, the dagger Daenerys had bought for him. At that moment, one of the rare few in his life, he contemplated murder. Fear flittered across her face as she looked into his eyes.

He watched as she stood from the chair slowly, "you will come to regret this. You are a fool, Aegon Targaryen," she told him calmly. Then she bent to pick up her clothing and she disappeared around the corner. He released the breath he did not realise he was holding when he heard the door open and then close.

Jon buried his face in his hands as he sank into his chair, feeling shame settle deep in his stomach.

Daenerys

Arya had left her to go back to the training yard, she had apparently promised Jaehaerys she would train with him for the day.

Daenerys walked to Maegor's Holdfast. She had heard the King has returned from the horse racing event this morning. As she rose the steps, she wondered if Jon would be in their chambers, looking for her. Then a queer feeling that she could not explain came to her and she knew he would not go to their chambers. He had wanted her to rest so he would expect her to be there and not bother her. At that thought, she turned to walk towards the royal chancery where she had learned that Jon had always worked in. At her heels, her two Dothraki bloodriders kept close.

She was going to tell him about what Arya had told her and of Daenerys' intention to propose a betrothal between Arya and Gendry. At the thought of how he might react, probably completely surprised, she smiled. At the thought of the smile he always had so readily for her, and if Tyrion's words were to be believed, only her, she quickened her pace.

Then her smile faded as she came upon the chancery only to see not just the Kingsguards outside but two Dornish men as well. She frowned. Worry filled her as she recalled the warning from her bloodriders about Arianne Martell, a poisonous viper. She approached the chancery. The Kingsguards bowed to her and the Dornish men nodded to her. She gestured for her bloodriders to stay outside and she opened the door to the chancery.

The large table with two rows of chairs, where the monarch could call for a meeting, was empty. She was about to turn into the office, where she knew the desk of the King was when she saw it. A yellow garb on the floor, Dornish garb.

She felt the blood drain her from her body and the air in the room suddenly felt too cold. Quietly, she stepped forward, closer to the abandoned garb and closer to the corner where if she turned, she would see into the King's office.

She froze as she heard a laugh; a woman's laugh, "we are made to love and to make love, and that is all that should be important. I want my King now. I don't have to be your Queen. Take me as a paramour and we will discuss the allegiance in a different light,"

Daenerys letting out a shaky breath, she knew she should confront it, she should walk into the office and see the truth for herself. She felt her clasped hands tightened. She willed her anger to fuel her, to make her brave, as she always did in battle but this time, there was no rage in her; none for her to summon. She only felt fear and it was suffocating her.

Jon would never.

At that thought, she made to take a purposeful step forward.

"Oh my foolish King, you want me," she moaned, the voice thick, sultry. A statement.

In that moment, for all Daenerys Targaryen was, had been and had accomplished, she turned tail and fled from the room.

A coward.