Notes:

Here comes Part II. This part continues right where we left off with Daenerys and Tyrion.

The "fine-tuning" turned into scene additions of almost 3,000 words. Therefore, I am splitting the chapter again as it's becoming difficult to handle. And because I am late with my update anyway. Part III should follow shortly, unless I am getting carried away again…

Big thanks to my loyal reviewers!

Daenerys walked up onto the wall that surrounded Winterfell. She liked to be up there. She liked heights in general. It wasn't nearly as high as when she was flying on Drogon, but the wall provided her with a good overview of Winterfell. Below she felt almost caged in, not being able to see far or only into the courtyard. Daenerys realized that it probably had something to do with her need to be always in control of a situation. She had never felt caged in in Meereen or on Dragonstone. The pyramid and the castle were isolated places, but they allowed her to see everything around and below her.

On purpose she walked slowly, so that Tyrion would have no problems following. Especially the steep steps were a challenge for him. But he didn't complain. They walked until they found a part that was scarcely manned with guards. If they talked quietly, nobody would be able to overhear them. The wind made that impossible. Daenerys stopped and turned around, waiting for Tyrion to speak.

"You are very observant," Tyrion said.

"You were the one observing me. Why?"

"I am your Hand. It's my job to keep an eye on my Queen."

Daenerys rolled her eyes, not convinced in the slightest. "It's too cold out here for games."

"Very well then." Tyrion moved closer to the wall, seeking protection from the wind. "I really wasn't sure if you would be as good with court intrigue and politics as you are on the battlefield. But I am not worried anymore."

She looked at him somewhat offended. "Well, I am glad you changed your mind. What did change your mind?"

Tyrion smiled at her. "You possess foresight. You are able to scheme and wait until the time is right. I always thought you were impatient. But when it matters, you are more restrained than most kings or queens I have met."

"You think me impatient? I've spent years in Essos, waiting for the right time to cross the Narrow Sea."

"That was different. You had no choice."

"I could have attacked after Joffrey was killed. I chose not to."

Tyrion wondered if Jorah had something to do with that. But in the end, her decisions were her own.

"I think we are getting off topic. What exactly do you think I am scheming?" Daenerys asked, honestly curious.

Again, Tyrion considered if it was wise to broach this subject with her. But he couldn't help himself. Even if she declined to talk about it, he at least wanted to see her reaction. "You refuse to make your most trusted advisor your Hand. At first I felt flattered. But it's not about me, is it? It's about him. It would be of advantage if Ser Jorah was your Hand now that we are trying to make you Queen of Westeros. Especially here in the North it might be helpful. I know you are neither oblivious nor indifferent to the Northerners' distrust of you. But still you refuse to make him your Hand." And then Tyrion spoke out loud what he was thinking. "You treat him like one would a husband."

Daenerys kept quiet, fixing him with her eyes, waiting to see if he would continue.

Tyrion watched her carefully, trying to read her face. But she didn't give anything away. So he went on, "At first I thought you were just indulging, that you simply don't care what other people think. But you are doing it on purpose. And he doesn't even realize what you are doing. And you don't want him to. At least not yet. Even though Jorah and I often disagree, he would probably tell you exactly the same, if you suggested to marry him. That it isn't a wise decision."

Daenerys almost laughed. These were exactly the words Jorah had used when she had gone to him the night he had returned to her.

Tyrion took the smile that had momentarily escaped her face as a sign that he was at least partially correct in his assumptions. "Jorah is comfortable on the battle field. He's comfortable as your advisor. But I somehow doubt he would be comfortable as more. He is comfortable staying in the background." Which was probably one reason why their relationship seemed to work. "I think he prefers staying in the background. I think his shameful departure from Bear Island has caused quite a bit of self-doubt and left scars. Besides, he wouldn't risk tainting your reign with his disgraceful past. And I think you are aware of all that. Which is why – very slowly, very gradually – you try to get him more accustomed to what you have in mind for him, a position by your side instead of in your shadow."

"You are reading too much into what I do and what I don't do," Daenerys said.

"You were much more discreet with Daario," Tyrion pointed out. "But then Daario was just a diversion, a pastime. You told me yourself you didn't feel anything when you left him behind in Meereen. The same cannot be said about Jorah Mormont."

"We are all going into battle. There is no guarantee any of us will make it through this alive," Daenerys said curtly. "I won't deny Jorah or myself some small comforts just for the sake of appearances."

Tyrion chose his next words carefully. "Didn't we just agree that you possess foresight? I don't think you would be so careless just for a short moment of pleasure. Besides, Jorah has spent every night in your quarters since we arrived at Winterfell."

"Are you spying on me?" Daenerys asked.

"My point is that you have plenty of time to – how did you put it – exchange some small comforts in private. There isn't really any need to do so in public as well."

"Are you spying on your Queen?" Daenerys demanded to know.

Tyrion grinned sheepishly. "No. I bluffed. I took an educated guess." And her reaction had confirmed his guess.

"Well played," Daenerys conceded. Tyrion was indeed a clever man. She had to watch her reactions more carefully. But she could allow him one small victory, especially where it didn't really matter.

"Despite being just second choice, I assume you didn't just make me your Hand on a whim."

This time Daenerys didn't fall into his trap. "I never said you were second choice."

"No, you didn't," Tyrion agreed. "But unless you can give me a better explanation why Jorah is not your Hand, I will remain convinced that I am only your second choice."

Daenerys regarded him with annoyance. She had hoped he would drop the topic, but should have known better. "It wouldn't be very seemly for a Queen to be involved with her Hand."

"But not impossible. Especially if one were discreet." Cautiously, Tyrion added, "Which you aren't."

"Careful…" she warned him.

"I am your Hand. I am here to tell you the truth. In fact, you asked me here to tell you what I think." Tyrion became more daring. If Daenerys didn't want to have this discussion with him, she could have simply dismissed him or walked away. But so far she hadn't. "If a Queen were to marry her Hand, the position of Hand of the Queen would become obsolete, wouldn't you agree? Hand and husband are two official positions that don't go very well together."

"It seems you have given this a lot of thought."

"Some." Tyrion was actually making a lot of this up as he went.

"Have you discussed it with anyone else?" Daenerys asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"No."

"With Varys?"

"Nobody," Tyrion assured her. "And I highly doubt anyone else is suspecting a thing. Some know or might suspect he's your lover. But they can't even imagine that you would make him-"

"Enough of this!"

Tyrion smiled inwardly. Finally he had gotten a reaction from her. Up to this point Daenerys had neither confirmed nor contradicted his theory. She had given him alternative reasons for her behavior, but she had never outright denied any of his assumptions. But Tyrion could tell that she was starting to lose her patience with him. It was now or never. "There's another thing they can't imagine. Even Jorah can't imagine."

Daenerys looked at him with disapproval, daring him to say the wrong thing.

Tyrion smiled at her with kindness. "That you would dare marry for love, not for power."

"I will never be sold into marriage ever again!"

"Of course not. You are-"

"And I will not marry anyone for political reasons either."

"That's what marriage is for," Tyrion pointed out carefully. That was why she had left Daario in Essos. Or at least that was why Tyrion had suggested it.

"Marriage is for furthering a house, for producing heirs. I can't."

"You were once willing to marry Hizdar in Meereen," Tyrion reminded her.

"Who says I have to marry at all?" Daenerys asked testily. "Let them wonder. It will keep them on their toes. If I pick one house over another, someone will always be offended."

"You were open to a marriage when we left Essos. And I think you at least considered marrying Jon to strengthen your alliance and get the Iron Throne. But that changed when Jorah came back. I know he's always been dear to your heart, no matter that he betrayed you. You couldn't help it. I saw it in the fighting pits." Tyrion wondered what she would have done if Jorah had died that day in the fighting pits, with her being able to stop it. "I remember when he left for the Wall. I saw you together the evening before that. Back then, I didn't see it. It looked almost innocent. Besides, we all thought you and Jon had something. I was sure you and Jon would… eventually… But you didn't love Jon. You love Jorah Mormont, don't you?"

"Yes," Daenerys said quietly, hardly audible above the wind.

Her admission took Tyrion by surprise. Not the fact that Daenerys loved Jorah, but that she admitted to it. He hadn't really expected an answer from her. Tyrion was just about to ask Daenerys outright if she intended to marry Jorah. But he had played this particular game for too long and missed his opportunity. Jorah was coming towards them. Tyrion sighed inwardly. "Your knight in shining armor is approaching. With a worried look, as usual."

Daenerys turned to face Jorah. At this very moment he was indeed her knight in shining armor. She was running out of ideas to keep Tyrion's prying questions at bay. Of course she could have simply ended their conversation, but she had a pretty good idea what Tyrion would read into that. Still looking towards Jorah, Daenerys addressed Tyrion one last time. "I will take the Iron Throne. But on my terms."

"And I am on your side," Tyrion assured her.

"Are you really?" If she chose Jorah, would Tyrion choose to back Jon instead?

"Yes."

By now, Jorah was close enough to hear them. Therefore, Daenerys had no choice but to take Tyrion's word for it.

"Here you are," Jorah said. "I've been looking all over for you."

Tyrion nodded at Jorah and the Queen and then left them.

"What were Tyrion and you doing out here in the cold?" Jorah asked.

"Talking."

He regarded her with skepticism. "There are warmer places to talk, even in Winterfell." And she hated the cold. The only reason Jorah could come up with was that they had wanted to talk without being overheard. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No."

Jorah raised an eyebrow, letting her know he wasn't convinced.

Daenerys took another step towards him, seeking his closeness. "I don't want you to go."

"Just like I don't want you to go out there on Drogon."

"But we both have to."

Jorah knew he would have to let her go into battle on Drogon, no matter how much he hated it. On the ship to White Harbor he had told Tyrion that he had to accept that she was a Targaryen, that fire was part of who she was. And now he had to accept that she was the Mother of Dragons. If there had been any chance of making her stay on the ground, in safety, Jorah would have done so. He kept telling himself that she would be safer on Drogon than elsewhere, and that Drogon would look out for her. But it did nothing to quiet the dread he felt. Not with Viserion flying around undead and the Night King just waiting to put his spear into another dragon. "Promise me you'll be careful out there on Drogon."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Of course."

"Don't engage the Night King alone. We have no idea what he's capable of."

"I'll be fine. I'll be much safer than you."

Jorah wasn't so sure.

Daenerys gently stroked his cheek. "You will be out there with them. With countless of wights. Don't do anything foolish. A few wights more or less won't matter. We want the Night King."

"I know. I attended the same battle meeting as you," Jorah reminded her, trying to lighten the mood.

She took hold of his cloak and pulled him close. "I need you. I need you to come back to me."

Of course Jorah wanted to come back to her. He was a skilled fighter and in relatively good shape. The cuts on his arm and hand didn't hinder him anymore. But Jorah had seen enough battles to know that skill often had nothing to do with survival. Skill was definitely an advantage, but it wasn't everything. He'd had so many brushes with death he had stopped counting a long time ago. As her general he was supposed to stay back, to have the overview and coordinate, not fight on the frontlines. But just like Jon, Jorah had a hard time letting others fight for him and watch them die. Jorah had fought in the midst of it for so many years. That habit was hard to break. But he never had more reason to live. Daenerys made him want to live. Jorah lowered his head until he almost touched her forehead. His right hand went behind her neck, his thumb tenderly stroking her cheek. "There is no place I'd rather be than by your side."

Daenerys' eyes went to his lips. And then Jorah kissed her, firmly pressing his lips to hers. Her hands went around his neck, pulling him even closer. She buried her fingers in his hair. She wanted to feel him as close as possible. Eventually, Jorah broke the kiss. He stared at her with unguarded passion in his eyes. Softly, Daenerys brushed her lips against his one more time. Then she buried her face against his chest, seeking protection from the cold. "We should go back inside," she said, but she didn't move.

Jorah nodded. But he didn't want to let go of her yet either. He looked around and pushed her into the shadows, against a wall. He placed his hand between her head and the rough stone surface and kissed her hard. He invaded her mouth with his tongue and pressed his body against hers. When he pulled away, Daenerys grabbed his cloak and pulled him close again. Jorah went willingly and kissed her once more, eventually moving on to her neck, where he lingered until she started to moan softly. Daenerys forgot that she was cold. For a moment she even forgot where she was. When the kiss ended, she leaned against him, breathing hard, trying to collect her thoughts.

Jorah put his arms around her and simply held her close.

"You've been in situations like this before," Daenerys said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The night before the battle. When you don't know if anyone will live through it."

"So have you."

"I always knew we would win. The odds were usually in our favor."

Jorah nodded.

"But when you were fighting for Robert, you didn't know you would win."

"No."

"What did you do the night before? How can you sleep, knowing it might be… you know…?"

"You focus on something else and try not to think about it. Getting drunk is a popular choice. Or spending it with a beautiful woman. Or both."

"You are not drunk," Daenerys observed.

"No, I'm not."

"That still leaves option two."

"It does."

Daenerys raised herself up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. No matter how much she wanted him here and now, it had to wait until later.

"We should go back inside," Jorah said.

Daenerys sighed. "We should."

Arya was watching the feast get loud and rowdy. Suddenly, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Can we talk?" Gendry asked.

"Sure."

"Not here."

They went outside and walked to the stables.

"I didn't see you at the feast," Arya remarked.

"I was finishing up some work."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Because I am not going with the rest of them."

Arya looked at him confused.

"Did you ask your brother to keep me here?" Gendry asked angrily.

"What are you talking about?"

"He said I was not to leave with the others, but to stay here, to make more weapons and to protect Winterfell. He said I was in charge of replenishments and overseeing the work on the scorpion."

"Gendry, I-"

"I am not a carpenter. And even Ser Davos is going," Gendry went on enraged. "Ser Davos himself admits that he is not much use as a fighter."

"It wasn't me. I didn't talk to Jon."

"Oh. I thought... Never mind." Gendry didn't understand why Jon wouldn't take him along. Admittedly, he wasn't the most skilled fighter, but he was strong and brave. Hadn't he proved that to Jon beyond the Wall? "Even Samwell Tarly is going," Gendry said.

"To treat the injured, not to fight. Sam does have more battle experience than Maester Wolkan." Arya had to admit to herself that she was relieved that Gendry would stay at Winterfell. But she could also understand how that would frustrate Gendry. "Jon asked me to stay here as well," she said, hoping it would make him feel better.

"Jon told me to make sure you stay safe."

Arya looked at him slightly amused.

"Yeah, I know. You can take care of yourself."

"I can," she assured him confidently. "I just wish there was more time so the Dothraki could teach me how to fight with an arakh."

Gendry laughed. "Is that all you can think about? Weapons and fighting? You really are not a typical girl."

"You like typical girls?" Arya asked.

Gendry leaned closer and brushed his thumb across her cheek. "I like you more." But then he suddenly pulled back.

"What's wrong?"

"We shouldn't." She was still innocent when it came to love.

"I've spent enough time in pleasure houses to know about… that."

Gendry looked at her shocked.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Killing people," she clarified.

"Ah." He thought about this for a moment. "That shouldn't reassure me. But strangely, it does."

Arya grinned. "Kiss me."

Gendry really wanted to kiss her. "Your brother is going to kill me, if he finds out I touched you."

"He likes you," Arya said.

"Not nearly as much as his beloved little sister. And I don't think Jon has forgiven me for forgetting to mention that I had met you when he thought you were dead."

"I'll protect you." Arya grinned. "Besides, you should be more worried about what I will do to you, if you don't-"

Gendry closed the distance between them and kissed her. He tried to keep the kiss light, but Arya had other plans. He took her face in his hands and pulled slightly away from her. "Easy."

Arya looked at him uncertain, and a little bit hurt.

"What did your fighting teacher call the fighting style of Braavos?"

"Water dancing," Arya replied confused.

"Right. Elegant, fluid motions, deliberate and careful execution, no brute force, correct?"

Arya nodded.

"Just like kissing."

Arya smiled. Those were instructions she could work with. This time when Gendry kissed her, she followed his lead and kept the pressure against his lips much lighter. When he opened his mouth to her, the dueling of their tongues came almost naturally and she wondered why they hadn't done this before.