Apologies for the late update. Getting back on track is a bit slow but we're close. Writing is getting faster and I'm excited to get up to speed with the story because it's gonna get crazy soon. On another note, thanks to the constructive criticism on chapter 30, I did realize that this chapter was missing a few essentials so I thank you and ashleyfanfic again for helping get through them as well as my beta Elphaba818.
Edit 4/8/21: Someone made a valid point I'd like to share and apologize for in regards to me telling people on Chapter 30 to wait and see. -
"Wait till chapter 32" implying this to be a red herring is okay in your book?
He wanted to quit when he realized the story was not what he signed up for and with your commentary strung him along for another two chapters full well knowing that the one thing he intended to quit over wouldn't be touched.
And now that he expressed his anger over you tricking him into doing that have the insolence to berate him for that.
I did not see things like this as but once it was said I did not approve of it. For that, I am sorry to those I led onto sticking around longer than you wanted.
Jon
He didn't find any sleep in the hours after he left Daenerys. His every thought was plagued with her face, her sighs, her smell, the feel of her beneath his fingers. She was haunting him. Nor did thoughts of her leave him when the sunlight peered through the window and the doves began to sing from the olive trees outside.
His mind was plagued with the two paths laid before him, each other tearing the other asunder. Jon knew that to pick one would destroy the other. After so long he finally had the name of the slaver he was searching for. Foran Grotus, the captain of the Silver Scorpion and commodore of the Silver Chain Company fleet of five ships, his heart was weighed down with what he should do. To choose Dany would forgo his attempts to seek the vengeance Baelgor couldn't seize for Shienna and Althor. The slaver wasn't someone who should keep living, either. Knowing what he did, a slaver revered by others, someone who could catch anyone for the right price, and with one trip to Slaver's Bay he could end years of searching. But the echo of Dany's sighs and the taste of her kiss had loosened the hold revenge had taken. It drifted farther away the more he allowed himself to think of her, to let his heart swell with the love and devotion he felt. What's more, after their evening together dancing and making love to her beneath the Weirwood, he knew that she was in his blood as much as revenge had ever been. But it brought peace and torment. Now, he could only want her.
He turned to his side, eyeing the empty space next to him he wished Daenerys was there to fill. It wasn't just loneliness he felt without her, there was a void inside him, a place of nothing where she should be.
Jon sighed as he wondered if maybe she felt the same as he did right now? Was she as empty without him as he was without her?
The price they would pay to take her away from this was too high. They both knew that. But there was another option. Viserys had offered a place in his service. He could go with them, with her. It was another way to be with her at the cost of avenging Baelgor's family. Couldn't there be a way to have both? He knew that he would have to bide his time and wait, but in his experience, time had never been kind. Things tended to fester the longer they lingered.
Sitting up in the bed, he held his palm aloft, igniting a small black flame hovering above the center, and seeing it was a small comfort. It was there. Still at his fingertips. It lingered for a few seconds before the sting of the heat made him wince back and lose the fire. What was he if not for his magic?
His mind flickered back to Dany and he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to bite back the longing for her that was settling in his heart. She was within the holdfast, but so far from him, too. He closed his eyes and again there were the two paths. Down one was uncertainty, vengeance, and possible answers. He could go to the astronomy ruins after Yunkai and get the tome. But without anyone to guide him, he would have to take his chances in the village again with the warlock that made him uneasy. The other path was Daenerys, her mad brother, and a Dothraki Horde.
Two choices, both of them tugged at not only his mind by his heart and his loyalty. He felt as if he had no control to even look in either direction. He was stuck and it hurt unlike any pain he'd ever endured. To seek vengeance and answers or be with the one he loved, watch her be with another.
He feared for her. What would happen to her once she was married to this Khal? Would she even be safe with him? Would she be able to trust anyone she was with as they had all been party to a marriage they knew she did not want? His father was gone and all he had was his desire for revenge and the love he felt for Daenerys. He couldn't leave her to face the world alone. He couldn't leave her alone.
Jon plopped back, head landing on his feather pillow and a small bubble of laughter escaped him. 'Love really does make you do strange things.' He was certain. His place was with Daenerys. He could be there for her. A light. He would find a way and the time to hunt down the slaver and exact vengeance, but he would do them at her side.
Accustomed to long periods without rest, he shook off the grogginess that came with a lack of sleep, dressed quickly but also neatly. The sun was just filtering into the room, which chose his path for him. Instead of the door, checking to see if he was being watched through the halls, he went out the window.
He assumed that many would be busy with the wedding festivities. From the little he'd overheard the day before, the wedding would take place south of the city, along the sea cliffs. Illyrio's pets would be too busy loading wagons and carts in front of the manse to worry about someone creeping from a window in the back. He had to make it to Dany. He wanted to tell her before this wedding. He wanted to let her know that his place was at her side in whatever form that took.
He was relieved to see that the guards were scarce, as well. This made creeping through the manse much easier. He didn't know why they were gone, perhaps called to leave for the wedding at a moment's notice, but he was thankful for it all the same.
He counted the windows and smiled when he found hers, checking to make sure the coast was truly clear before he climbed up and peeked inside. The room was silent, and he pulled himself in quietly, hoping that her guard outside didn't hear him.
The moment he landed on his feet, he looked up to lay eyes on a sight that took the very breath from him. She wore a white linen gown held by straps over her shoulders. A set of silver rings wrapped around the flesh of her upper arms as two white sashes hung down to the floor. And around her neck sat a silver band in the form of a dragon. He was trying to remember how to breathe. As it was, he could hardly find words to tell her how beautiful she looked.
"Jon?" Daenerys gasped at his appearance in her room and rushed to close some of the space between them. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"
"I… you look so…" He took a deep breath as his eyes swept over her again. He couldn't finish the sentence, at a loss for words. His eyes met hers again and she slowly smiled. "You're a dream," he whispered.
She clasped her hands together in front of her and tilted her head ever so slightly. "You look as if you didn't get much sleep."
He shook his head to break his starstruck daze. "I didn't sleep at all. I couldn't. I had so much to think about, so much to decide." He strode over to her, kneeling by her side and taking her hand. "Listen, I've changed my mind," he rushed out.
"Jon you said-"
"I know I can't take you away, but I can come with you," he interrupted. "Your brother has offered me a place in his service and I'll accept. I can stay, Dany."
For a moment, he saw the same hope reflected on her face that he felt within his heart. They could do this. Together, they could weather it all. But then her face fell and her eyes fell to her hands. "Jon," she started, took a deep breath, and shook her head. "You should leave for Yunkai."
He swallowed the boulder sized lump that had formed in his throat. His mind raced through her words. What did she mean? Why would she tell him to leave when what they both wanted was for him to stay. His heart was cracking beneath his chest, and only she had the means to repair it. But he had to know for sure. He needed her to explain. "What?"
"You weren't the only one lying awake with much to think about." She still hadn't looked at him again. Instead, her eyes stared at her hands, twirling the ring around her finger. "I'm to be married to Drogo today, and tonight I'll be taken by him. And every night after until I give him sons," she hissed.
Of all the things he had considered, not once had he thought about the eventuality of her being pregnant with the Khal's child. His blood ran cold and his heart ached. He longed to kill the man to keep him from ever touching her. "Daenerys-" he started, wanting to tell her that he would be there for her, because it's what they both wanted, but she interrupted him, cutting off what he would declare.
"Maybe there would be nights when he is gone. Those stolen moments would be ours. But the nights when he is there, and I have to be with him while you are just a short walk away... my heart could not take that. I know what you said. That my heart is strong. But every strength has it's limit, and that's mine. I can't do that to either of us.
His head fell. If anyone were to walk in, they would see what could be a devoted bowing of fealty to royalty. But they both knew the truth. This was heartbreak. Reality crushing the both beneath it's unyielding boot. "I will stay with you," he whispered. "If you-"
She brushed her hand across her face and he realized she was wiping away tears. "Don't. It's a hope I dare not let grow. It would eventually destroy us, Jon. Knowing what our places are and how close we could be to having everything we wanted," she shook her head. "One of us would break. We'd either stop caring about the consequences of spurning the Dothraki or we'd break because of the other and I don't want either of those things, and neither do you."
He took in her words. Put himself in the position they'd be in should he go with her. Could he tolerate standing by as another man bedded her, impregnated her? Knowing that another man was holding her, touching her, a part of her the way he had been? But to leave her would mean letting her face that alone. "I don't want you to be alone."
She shook her head. "I won't be. I have my guards, my... brother," she said the last part so softly that they both knew she didn't mean it. "I hate it, Jon. I wish for something else, but this is what has to be."
He pressed his brow to the back of her hands, holding them within his own. "I'm sorry."
A single finger lifted his chin to look into her eyes. There was a small smile on her beautiful lips, the face he loved, that was now burned into his brain. "You will always be my love, Jon. Noone, not Drogo, or Viserys, or even the gods themselves can change that or take you away from me." A tear slid down her cheek and he reached up to wipe it away. A small sob escaped her as she lowered her head. "Is it too much to hope that you won't allow anyone to take me from your heart?"
He released a shaky breath, trying to keep a hold of his emotions. "I... promise. I'm yours. Always. And you'll be mine."
They gave each other a much needed bliss of silence to accept things as they are. Both of them had tightened their fingers ever so slightly. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss in her palm, then turned it over to place a kiss on the back. "Yours, Princess," he whispered.
Heart filled with disappointment, regret, and also anger, Jon left at her behest. On the return, he didn't sneak around as he did before. His feelings made him not care if he was spotted anymore but what was the point with no guards to keep watch.
Back inside his room through the window, Jon felt the greatest urge to grab whatever was closest and break it to smithereens. But he already gave the Magister enough reasons to get closer and closer to an arrest and execution. 'Save it for Yunkai,' he told himself.
Jon left for his room and informed one of the Unsullied standing guard outside about his intended departure so as to receive his effects back as promised. One told him to meet at the front of the manse with the other and he did just that.
Outside at the front of the manse, past all the people getting the wedding entourage ready, he waited patiently and was greeted not by the Unsullied guard but Dillion himself with his swords.
"You're off then?" The knight asked.
"Not yet. I have a wedding gift for Daenerys. After that, we're gone." Jon took his swords and looped the frog of his second sword onto his new belt and found himself more comfortable with them at his sides again.
Dillion breathed easy as did Jon. "Where will you be heading? Maybe our paths will collide again."
"Yunkai. After that… I have some learning I need to do."
"Maybe. The world's a big place, Morghon, and you find the rarest of treasures in it. I don't know if it's by choice or chance, but I hope it leads you to good fortune where you go."
Jon gave Dillion a small nod. "Thank you." nothing more was said between them and Jon left to find his brother.
The streets were far quieter than last night, many fighting headaches from too much wine and not enough sleep. A few beggars were gathered in a corner of an alley comparing trinkets they had among themselves, bethem lost or stolen.
Jon found the tavern and the place was serving breakfast to many. He spotted Beskha and Vedros eating eggs.
Beskha spotted him. "Aha, and now we receive the conquering hero. Here to find a meal befitting thee?"
Jon pulled up a stool. "Not hungry."
"Well there's a surprise." Beskha said with a mouthful of egg. "I had a good hour with that pair of cowtits last night and I'm starving. How long did you last for your first time?" Vedros' head perked up.
Jon felt himself tingle in cheeks and ears with heat, though it was a mix of embarrassment and anger.
"Look at that," Vedros chuckled, "Redder than a Lannister's cloak."
"Shut up. I'm not telling what happened between me and Dany."
Beskha held in a laugh. "If it was that bad then by all means, keep it to yourself. My money's on five minutes."
"Nah, I 'd say seven." Vedros countered as he resumed eating.
"Would you both shut up?" Jon sighed when a serving wench presented him with a plate of eggs he didn't order. He took a fork and cut off a piece. "I'm not in the mood."
Beskha paused eating her eggs. "Did you not go through with it? Or did she say no?"
"We had our first time, but… it was amazing. I don't think I'll feel like that ever again if I had anyone else."
"And now she's getting married to a big hulk of Dothraki muscle," Beskha continued as she now had what looked like sympathy for him. "Look, if you're that strung up about it, just go with them."
Before Jon could tell them he tried, Vedros slammed his fist down with finger pointing at Beskha. "No," he roughly mumbled through the food in his mouth. "We've spent too long and done too much to walk away."
"Don't worry about it." Jon told them. It's probably best that he didn't tell them he tried. "And the answer is three."
"Hm?" Beskha looked puzzled. "Three what?"
"Three hours, I think."
Vedros choked on his egg and coughed it up while Beskha was legitimately impressed. "Well then, you have gained my respect. Might have to try you for myself one day."
Both Jon and Vedros stopped and looked at her. "I thought you liked women," Vedros said.
Beskha just kept eating. "I like women because they can last as long as they want and don't have a pecker that falls soft after one pitiful round. But if you can find me a man with your endurance," she pointed her fork to Jon, "then I'll have a go at him."
Jon almost dropped his fork to bury his face in his hands but did his best not to. 'Maybe I should have stayed in bed.'
"So when's the wedding?" Beskha asked.
"Noon," Jon told them. "Our ship doesn't leave until nightfall, so we have time."
Vedros shook his head. "You're dragging things out too much, Morghon. When we leave for Yunkai, she'll be leaving for Vaes Dothrak, married to a Khal who I don't think will want to share her, especially with those who've robbed his Khalasar before… he might recognize us."
"He won't. He'd recognize Baelgor for certain, but not us."
"It's a bad idea."
"Well I don't care." Jon banged his fork on the table. "I'm going. If you don't want to come, then just stay here and wait for me."
"Woah now," Vedros raised a hand up, "if Drogo does recognize you by some fluke then you're fucked without your magic at full strength. At least with me around, we got a chance to bullshit our way out. And maybe we can bribe him with Beskha."
Beskha slowly turned her head to him with daggers in her eyes.
"What?" Vedros shrugged. "You said find you a man that's got the blessing of decent sex duration. Won't know Drogo's unless you try it."
With her eggs finished, Beskha set her fork on her plate and pushed them both to the side. "Someday, I'm going to punch you in the head and I'm not going to tell you when."
"... didn't you already tell me that once?"
"Yes I did."
"Right, well, thanks for the reminder then."
"Reminder? You're taking on a debt with me." Beskha covered the cost of breakfast and as they walked out the door she slugged her fist at Vedros' head.
"Ow! Dammit woman!" Vedros pressed a hand to where she hit.
"One down, one to go." She smirked.
Retrieving their horses and leaving the city, they rode out to the cliff sides to join in the 'celebration'.
Jon had to stop and look at the mass before him. He'd never seen an army as big or powerful as the Khalasar of Khal Drogo. There were great bonfires lit with half naked women dancing wildly and some of them being taken by men out in the open as was their custom.
There wasn't a specific place to leave the horses at, so they merely found a lone spot and hoped that no thief would take them or that they would wander off.
It wasn't hard to find where to go. A collection of nobles and other rich guests were gathered in one spot away from the Dothraki party. They were all offering gifts to the bride and groom. It looks like they missed the gifts from the Khal's Bloodriders.
People were still arriving after them, so while Beskha and Vedros went off to mingle in the festivities, Jon snuck into the line of gift bearers. He had a perfect view of Dany. She wasn't as scantily clothed as yesterday and neither was she 'prettied' up too much, she looked gorgeous.
Next to her was Drogo, leaning in as he sat with such a hard expression on his face as his eyes would go from the gifts given to his army's celebrations. A large man wearing a clean white robe and black steepled hat came forward to the bride and groom, presenting a silver bowl filled with finely polished gemstones of great variety. He bowed his respects to Drogo and Dany before stepping aside and finding a few of Drogo's men to converse with.
It was after that gift that Daenerys spotted Jon and they locked eyes. Jon did his best to not let slip any hint of affection that might cause some trouble. But he gave the subtlest of smiles for her and she returned it before looking forward to the next gift bearer.
Jon looked to Viserys Targaryen and saw how bored he was. There was clear impatience in him and he looked annoyed with every rebuke the Magister next to him said.
The attention was interrupted when a commotion between two Dothraki escalated over the right to hump a bare breasted woman. Finally the Khal showed some emotion with a smirk as arakhs were drawn and steel sang over the beating drums.
Jon couldn't help but judge how poorly these men fought. He could have killed them both in five- no, four moves.
The fight was quick and won when the throat of the challenger was slit clean open. Before the loser hit the ground dead, his braid was painfully cut. Many cheered and another woman joined the victor and his prize. This display brought half a grimace to Daenerys but utter amusement to Viserys.
It was his turn now to present his respects and his gift. Truthfully, there was a part of him that thought he shouldn't, but it was outweighed by the desire to leave something Dany could remember him by and protect her.
Jon stepped forward, earning many skeptical looks from the Dothraki. He ignored the eyes on him except for Daenerys as he undid his sword belt. Some became confused but not her. He removed the belt holding Blackfyre and the scabbard and knelt down to her, holding his sword out. The belt she gifted to him last night carried his other sword. He wouldn't dare part with it. He lowered his head down to them.
"Blackfyre is House Targaryen's. It should be in the hands of one you deem worthy to protect you." When he lifted his eyes, he saw the look in hers. He saw that if she could, she would choose him.
"Finally, you do something sensible." Viserys said as he arose with a gleeful grin.
Jon pulled Blackfyre back. "I didn't say I was giving it to you, your grace. I'm giving it to her. It's her decision who should wield it."
"Your grace," Illyrio said, "it is very disrespectful to seize a bridal gift. The only penance is a swift death."
Viserys looked annoyed. "Well go on, Dany. Don't keep me waiting."
Jon held the sword out to her again. Daenerys leaned forward and slowly put the scabbard in her hands.
"You're stronger than you know," Jon whispered just enough that only she could hear.
Daenerys lifted the sword from him and straightened her posture. "Thank you." She looked in Viserys' direction. "Ser Dillion." Viserys Targaryen's pleasant smile dropped. "I choose you to carry my family's sword."
Dillion didn't give a second glance to Viserys as he came forward and gracefully took Blackfyre from her. "I will wield it with great honor, princess. Until the time comes our King is ready to wield it in victory and conquest."
Jon arose and took his leave from the bride and groom's presence. When he returned to Vedros and Beskha, he felt a hand clasp on his shoulder. He didn't turn around, he didn't need to to know it was Dillion.
"When your business is done, find us. We need good men like you."
Jon shook his head. "If you knew what my business was, you wouldn't call me a good man." If Dillion came with them to witness what they were going to do, his words would be eaten and vomited out in utter disgust. The time in the world of pleasantries and calm living was over. It was time to return to the real world he had lived in for half his life. "You're more worthy of that sword than me. But listen, I never told her something I should have." He turned around to face Dillion. "If you ever come across those that worship the Lord of Light, any priests or other zealots, keep them away from her. The only thing they want is to burn her alive for ritual all in their Lord's name. Valyrian blood is more precious to them than anything. Promise me that."
Dillion was taken back when he heard this. "What makes you so sure?"
"It's what they do. They murdered my father's wife and son for a vision, they've wanted to do the same to me. Dillion, swear it."
The Knight of Silversight nodded. "I swear it."
He kept on walking, slipping from Dillion's hand and returning to where he belonged.
It hurt him to part with his sword, especially since it was Valyrian Steel. A sword never fit better in his hands, except for maybe Fang. He kept the memory of the time Baelgor let him wield it with Blackfyre tucked away as one of the precious few he treasured.
There was also the worry that now that the Targaryens had their sword back, would their conquest rally more of the Houses of Westeros to them? The Blackfyre Rebellion all relied on the simple notion of which stupid fool had the shiny sharp steel. Swords don't make Kings.
What set Jon at ease was that at least as things are, Dillion had the sword, a warrior worthy of it and Dany would be protected with it. For him, that was enough.
The scene he returned to was brutal and one that he couldn't help but smile at. One of Dothraki, drunk from too much of their reeking brew was trying to cop a fondle of Beskha. He earned a hard punch into his teeth, and then another, and another, and another, until the poor fool had no teeth left.
Beskha popped her knuckles and blew the dirt off when she finished. "You sure you should have done that?" She asked Jon. "You'll never have a better sword again."
"Probably not." Jon agreed. "But I wanted to do it." Although, if the day ever came that he could take his fight to Volantis, he might be able to get Fang back, one day.
Beskha just shook her head with a roll of her eyes too, but Vedros was frozen in place, looking back at the guests presenting their gifts. Seven Hells, he was getting paler than a man of the Watch.
Jon looked back and saw two men presenting themselves to House Targaryen. He could have sworn he recognized them both, one more than the other. Was that... Lord Jorah Mormont presenting a handful of books to Daenerys?
"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island." the Bear Knight introduced to her. Seven hells, it was Lord Jorah. Time had not been good to him. Jon remembered him as a gruff Northerner like the rest but now he was the living definition of the word.
Next to Ser Jorah was another man Jon thought he recognized but not enough as he did the former. He shared Ser Jorah's rough complexion but his hair was longer and dark brown. He could pass for a Stark if he wanted to. "And I am Gregor Forrester of Ironrath."
'Forrester…' Jon thought, 'Lord Gregor Forrester. Oh shit.'
"Lord Forrester!" Vedros stepped out into the open and many eyes including his father's turned to him. "The fuck you doing here?"
"Gods be good… Asher? Is that you?" Lord Forrester rushed down to meet Vedros . "I thought I I'd never-"
Vedros slammed a hard fist across his father's face sending him to the ground. Many of the Dothraki laughed and watched. If things went the wrong way then the wedding would be getting its third death.
Lord Forrester propped himself on his elbow and spat blood into the dirt. "Asher, wait-" He held a hand up in pleading that his son stop. Vedros grumbled and offered his hand to help his father up.
'Don't do it,' Jon thought to tell Lord Forrester.
Lord Forrester looked relieved and accepted his son's assistance only to be pulled halfway up and be punched by Vedros' free fist, causing another uproar of amusement from the Dothraki.
Ser Jorah marched over with a hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Jorah, no!" Lord Forester stopped him. "This is my son. The one I've been looking for."
Vedros spat on his father's boot. "I see now. My leaving embarrassed you more than I already did so now you're gonna pluck me by the ear and drag me off to the Wall, is that it?"
"Asher, no. That's not why I'm here." Lord Forrester got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his tunic.
"My name's not Asher anymore and I don't care why you're here." Vedros growled. "You're dead to me. Now do the only smart thing you'll ever do in your life and fuck off back to Ironrath."
Vedros turned his heel and walked away, disappointing many of the Dothraki.
Lord Forrester followed after his son but Jon stepped between them, stopping Lord Forrester with a firm hand on the chest. "Don't," he told the Northern Lord, "just let him be for now."
"And who do you think you are to deny me an audience with my son?"
"His brother for eight years," he couldn't let two Northmen know who he was. Word would definitely get back to Winterfell and then it would be him in Vedros' boots and Ned Stark in Lord Forrester's. "My name's Morghon."
"I've sired eight children from my loins and you are not one of them. Do not presume to call yourself his brother."
Jon paused and starred off as he thought. 'Eight? Rodrick, Asher, Mira, Talia, Ethan, Ryon…' did he forget two or did Vedros forget to mention them? Or maybe the other two were bastards. Regardless or the count, Jon looked back at Lord Gregor. "When one is cast away from home, you have to find family elsewhere." Jon released his hand. "If you're here before nightfall, you might still find us in the city at the Drunken Pixie. He'll be calmed down by then. Well… calm enough he won't punch you as hard."
"And I deserve it." Lord Gregor massaged his jaw and spat out more blood to the side. "I think he loosened a tooth."
Jon looked to Ser Jorah. "And what brings the Lord of Bear Island into the service of House Targaryen?" Jon asked.
"Former Lord," Ser Jorah corrected, "ever since Ned Stark declared my head forfeit to the sword I've had no place in the North."
That was certainly a shock to hear. "Must have done something awfully terrible for Ned Stark to sentence you to death."
Ser Jorah narrowed his eyes at him. "The only thing I'm guilty of is doing what I had to avoid ruin."
Jon nodded. "That is the life we all lead, is it not? One day we are safe in our castles and the next we are in a forsaken land with nothing but our will to live."
"Aye, that much is true." Ser Jorah cocked his head. "Have we met before? I feel I recognize you yet I know I've never met a man of your name before."
"Once, a long time ago in another life you could say. You gave me dreams of being a knight but then they died. I suppose the Knight of the Snowborn will be another bastard's title." He regretted his little quip as soon as he said it.
"What?" Ser Jorah looked completely lost at that. Of course he wouldn't remember. Who has time to recall a bastard?
"Nothing. Just something you called me once. Good day to you both." Jon looked back to Daenerys. He saw that she was holding something, a stone of a set gifted by the Magister. They must have been valuable because she looked at them just like she did at Blackfyre when he gave it to her.
The drums and excitements all died down when Khal Drogo arose from his spot and left Daenerys alone. She slowly stood and followed after him with every pair of eyes watching her. Ser Jroah left the company of Jon and Lord Forrester to follow after her.
It was then Daenerys found the Khal that he presented his gift to her, a white mare more beautiful than any other breed in sight. She said something to Ser Jorah that Jon was too far away to hear, but she looked nervous. The Khal picked her up and set her atop her new mount.
Daenerys looked all around and many of the Dothraki parted ways for her to begin her ride. Daenerys scratched at her thigh, no doubt the pains of last night lingered. Jon felt guilty about that. Regardless, Daenerys spurred the horse and galloped around the wedding grounds with determination and one or two tears down her cheeks. The Dothraki watched and waited to see if she would do proud or fall, the real test of worthiness of being a Khal's wife.
Unexpectedly, Daenerys rode straight to one of the bonfires and her mare leapt over the flames perfectly, like a dragon in flight. When Daenerys landed she yelled out, the pain must have been great to bear, but that yell transformed into a powerful roar that brought forth a victorious cheer from the Dothraki.
Jon noticed, maybe the only one, that the core flames of the bonfire Dany leapt over flashed bright red for only a second before turning back. He let go of his breath he didn't realize he was holding. She would be alright. She will be strong.
Viserys walked over to where she was when the Khal mounted his mighty stallion. He whispered something to her, some stupid remark that upset her.
Daenerys then looked to Jon but subtly. He tried to do the only thing he could and smiled for her, hoping that she could hear his intent to let her know she would be alright. She looked away and rode off with the Khal. It was time for the consummation.
He burned inside watching her ride away. If he had any decent sense he should go after her. But his resolve for revenge outweighed his reasoning. His need for answers to his receding magic were dire for him to know. Once they were done in Yunkai, he would find her and get her out of here.
"Come on," Jon told Vedros, "let's get a few drinks in you. We still have a day ahead of us." And he could use a few himself to help forget his broken heart.
"There's not enough drink in this entire city to stupor my anger."
Beskha patted his back. "Challenge accepted."
Vedros
He downed his fourth pint… or was it his ninth? The cups were still in front of him on the table but they kept multiplying over and over.
'Hey-ey-ey-ey…" The words echoed in his head, "Are-are-you-you-you-about-bout -t-t-to-pop-op-op?" Who was talking? Was it Beskha or Morghon? Shouldn't it be easy to tell? Jon looked prettier than most women and Beskha was handsomer than most men so maybe they were both something in the middle?
The mugs all ran away from Vedros when he leaned over the table and let the falls of House Forrester splash all over the floor. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground looking up to the ceiling and everything was leaning extremely to the right.
"Urp… more beer," He gurgled with a finger raised up for the barmaid… or was that a barstool?
Two pairs of strong arms lifted him from the ground and dragged him along.
"Oh thank you, I'd much rather be with all of it then just a little-" he was dropped into a lake and water collapsed all over him. He was drowning! He couldn't swim, he was too heavy!
"Can't swim!" He coughed up above the water's surface.
"It's just a trowel you dumb drunk!" Beskha shouted.
Vedros stopped thrashing and realized he was stuck from actually sinking down. "Well how am I supposed to drown in this? You're shit at killing, woman…" his stomach felt sick again. He turned himself over, out of the trowel and threw up into the street. Dammit all, he didn't buy all that beer just to vomit it back out.
Things stopped spinning, or they were slowing down, he couldn't tell. His throat burned and he smelled worse than he felt.
Sitting up, Vedros did his best to suppress the urge to vomit again. "Weak thing you are," he scolded himself.
"We told you to slow down." Morghon chided.
"I forgot you talk again. Tell me, did the carpets match the curtains with the princess?"
"… I'm almost not sorry about this." Morghon told him, kneeling down right next to him with a grimace no doubt from the foul smell.
"Sorry for- ah!" Morghon pressed a burning thumb on the back of Vedros' neck and the searing pain shot into his nerves. "Bastard! Every time, why must you do that every time?" He pressed his hands on the spot that was burned, rubbing the pain off if he could.
"Well it works, doesn't it?"
Vedros glared at him and hissed through clenched teeth as he rubbed where the mild burn was. "Yes, unfortunately." While such a small pain woke him from the drunken spell, his body was far behind. His arms were invisibly tied to twice his weight and if his eyes lingered closed for too long then a blink would become a fast slumber. "You sure know how to burn." He looked at Jon, puzzled that his brother dunked his hand into the water. "You're skin's still burning?"
Jon nodded. "Remember the day of Mantarys? When Baelgor's fire died down? It's happening to me."
"Oh no." Vedros had legitimate concern now. Most of their escapades relied on Jon's fire and it was their greatest weapon against the Reds whenever they were found. "Do you need the book again?"
"Aye," Jon took his hand out of the water and shook what remained out, splashing droplets across his knees. "After Yunkai, we'll get the book back. And if I can't figure it out still then perhaps a visit to that warlock might help."
"Are you sure? I had bad feelings of that place. And Baelgor never told us enough about him to give a decent sense of caution. You'd be at the warlock's whim."
"It's a risk I'll take if I can get an answer." Jon looked up behind Vedros before offering a hand to help him up finally. "So you found us in time." Jon said as he pulled Vedros to his feet and held him up.
"The direction was easy enough."
Vedros felt his fingers act on their own, curling into hard fists. He tossed his head to turn and see his father and that Mormont fellow with him. He took one step to punch his father, but without Jon's support he practically slammed himself into the dirt.
Beskha chuckled. "Got him nice and drunk for yah. He won't be able to throw so much as a light spank unless someone holds him up." Both Beskha and Jon pulled Vedros back up.
"I got my voice back for facing my troubles. Maybe you'll get something too if you face yours." Beskha and Jon had to drag him back inside. They found a different table, one not surrounded with vomit and stale beer dripping off the ends to the floor.
Still sopping wet like a towel, Vedros was slumped into a chair with a pool of water forming underneath him. Dozens of eyes stared at him but he did not look back to meet any of them. His eyes were fixed on Lord Gregor's as he sat across from him.
Jon and Beskha gave them their space as did Ser Jroah. It looks like they were going to get a drink for the Bear Knight and pay off the barkeep for the trouble they caused.
"Make it quick," Vedros said while rubbing his sore eyes, "We have a ship to catch soon."
"I heard. Where's it you're going?"
"Don't think about following me, I'll toss you overboard if you do." He replied with a lazy slam of his fist. It would take a day to get his strength back. Why did Jon get to inherit the magic from Baelgor and he got the idiotic drinking habits? "Actually that might make me feel better. Yunkai. Got some people to kill. Want to come on the boat?"
"So you're no better than thugs who murders for money now?"
"You are the last person who should be lecturing me right now. You're the one who didn't want me around. Well here I am, cast out of my home and with a new name so your precious House remains undisturbed."
"..." Without a word, Lord Gregor quickly grabbed Vedros by the hair and slammed his head down hard on the table. For this, Vedros was glad he was still somewhat drunk. It didn't hurt as much. He didn't have time to contemplate the act though, as Lord Gregor swiped his shirt at the collar and pulled him close. "You need to start listening, boy. I didn't spend four years looking for you just to listen to you whine and complain. You will hear me, son."
Vedros peeled his father's grip off of his shirt and sat back, rubbing his head where it slammed. He wasn't feeling it now but he would be tomorrow morning. "Then speak and be gone with you."
Gregor scoffed and collected himself. "It took an entire year after you disappeared that I regretted it all. When I heard of you and Gwyn I- the timing was terrible with the war just over and the dispute over the Whitehill's absence in it."
Vedros didn't try to stifle his laugh. "That, we can agree on. Fucking cowards."
"It took me too long to try and undo what I did. So I left with your mother's blessing to find you, even when she was still heavy with your brother, Ryon. I missed his birth and his first three years to find you. And then finally, one night in Volantis, I accepted that you were dead. I am one of the best hunters in the North, son, but in foreign lands with hardly a lead where to look, all of my skills were nothing. I went home, met my son, and tried to return to things."
"And yet here you are. Why did you come back?"
"Mira. She sent word from Highgarden that you've sent her letters. When we learned this, not a night went by that sleep wasn't easy. I had to try again knowing there is proof you are alive. Rodrick and your mother agreed so I left again to find you. I had a trail this time and a name, Vedros."
"And along the way you met Jorah Mormont? The fuck's he doing in Essos anyway?"
Gregor pursed his lips. "He sold poachers into slavery to pay for his wife. I met her once. She was too young and too pretty to be in the North. Now she's a concubine for some pirate I think, he doesn't like to say. I don't approve of what he did, but when you spend so long alone until you see a familiar face, honor doesn't mean much when you can have some familiar company."
"I guess there's two things we agree on." Vedros straightened himself. "Well you found me, so good for you. Go home and tell everyone the wonderful news, rule Ironrath, make love to mother, and fight with the Whitehills, the usual."
"Asher-"
"Vedros!"
"Asher," Gregor insisted, "please come home. Everyone was unsettled when we heard the news and I made a promise to bring you back."
"Ironrath's not my home anymore. I am a man with no House, a man with no family to shame."
Gregor leaned in. "Then look me in the eye and tell me you don't miss it. I will leave right now if you truly believe it."
Vedros was hesitant, avoiding even, but looked at his father's piercing gaze and tried to say the words. "I-...I don't miss-" he couldn't do it, "damn you to the Seven Hells." He looked away and slumped back. "There's no place for me in the North anymore, not while she's there and I can't be with her."
"After all these years, you still love her?"
"There hasn't been a night that's passed by that I haven't dreamed of her. I dream of home, love, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, the ironwood," His eyes squinted into a glare at his father, "but not you."
"Then don't do it for me, do it for them. Please, let them see you stand in the halls of your home once again. Meet your brother. Tell them tales of your life, eat from their table. One moon's turn is all I ask of you. After that, go where you will and I promise I shall not follow."
"... fine. But not for you, for them. After Yunkai we have some things to do, not many, just a few. Grabbing some keepsakes, visiting a friend, and then we're done."
"That's perfectly fine. I'll be heading that way myself with the horde."
Well this was certainly surprising. The House of his mother and uncle supported the Targaryens in the rebellion but Forresters didn't. What did they both say that swayed his loyalties? "You've pledged to the Targaryens?"
"I was given meat and a roof for my services. I must fulfill my oath to help escort Daenerys Targaryen to Vaes Dothrak. After that, my oath is fulfilled. Where can I meet you after?"
"I'll find you. It's not hard to locate Drogo's horde. He'll probably come south to the bay to raid, rape, pillage, and plunder. Besides, where Jon goes I go…" Oh no. He didn't let himself look at Jon to raise suspicion, he tried to play it off. "I mean Mojon...Morjhon, whatever his name is, what is wrong with me? Morghon, Seven Hells."
"You need to lay off the drink, son. Not even the Greatjon takes in that much." Gregor looked over to Jon, Beskha, and Jorah. "Does your friend have eyes for the Targaryen girl?"
"As much as I have for Gwyn. Only difference is Whitehill didn't disturb them when things got good." He chuckled but his father tensed.
"You mean he laid with her?"
"For three hours, and for his first time. He's a god among men."
"Hells, Asher!" His father hissed, "if the Khal learns of this then he will hunt you down."
"Then this time you'll have forty thousand helpers to find me. That's life for us. We make dumb decisions, face the mess they make, and just burn our way out of it, or he does at least." He pointed a thumb to Jon. "Beskha and I just watch the show and live with it as we walk over the ashes."
His father sighed and massaged his temples. "You speak so casually of such dangers. Has this truly been your life for eight years?"
"I wanted to join the Company of the Rose, but then I met him and a drunk Valyrian instead. Best accident in my entire life so far."
"A Valyrian? Do you mean the Targaryens?"
"No, I mean my father, Baelgor Aekylosh, the last of the Fire Dancers of Valyria."
"He must have been very good to you to call him a father."
"Heh, no. He was quite the prick and so was I. But we had certain respects for the other and while we only got along several times, there wasn't a day we didn't insult the other. Morghon was the mute of reason."
"Mute? What do you mean mute? Tell me what happened. I want to know all of it."
Vedros thought about it, maybe a little brush over the details would help unburden the garbage feeling in his stomach. "Maybe when we get to Ironrath. I hate repeating myself."
"So then there's nothing you're willing to tell me?"
"I've said as much as I can handle with you right now. I've promised to go home with you when we're done with our business, that's all I can do. I'm not ready to get more accustomed to you. If I weren't heavy with beer then I'd be hitting you a few more times."
"I wouldn't make it easy for you this time."
"Good. It'd be boring if you did."
"Still like your brother." Gregor laughed. There was a pregnant silence before he reached his hands behind his neck and removed the ironwood pendant he wore around his neck, a pendant all of the Forrester's wore except for Vedros. He left his pendant in Ironrath the day he ran away. "We gave Ryon yours when I returned the first time. You go by a different name, but you are still a Forrester." He offered it to Vedros. "Please."
Vedros stared at the pendant. They all unfolded into some little charm or puzzle neither he or Rodrick or Mira could figure out. The picture was an incomplete weirwood and there had to be something else to finish it. Their father told them it would be revealed when they were old enough to learn the secret it held.
Vedros unfolded his father's pendant and found the image of the weirwood worn away greater than the one he was given years ago on his fifth nameday. "What does it mean, the inside?"
"I'll tell you when we get back home, son. I was going to, years ago, but you ran away from home."
"I overheard you that night with mother. You said the family's honor could be regained if I went north. I wasn't going to join the Watch for you."
"I wasn't talking about the Wall, son."
"You weren't?" Vedros felt slightly embarrassed now. "Then what?"
"I'll tell you when we get home."
Asher reached out and took it. He hadn't had a piece of home in eight years. Holding the pendant made him feel stupidly upset and joyful at the same time. "I have a ship to catch."
"And I have a horde to ride with." His father arose from his seat. "Until I see you again, son."
"...Aye, until then."
Jon
"That was a generous gift you gave to the Targaryens," Jorah told him. "Not many find the strength in them to part with Valyrian Steel."
"And yet here we both are," Jon responded before taking a swig of his ale. The taste was stale in his mouth.
"Aye. How did you come by yours? If I heard right, you said it was Blackfyre."
"It is. I killed Myles Toyne for it three years ago. Spent a damn heavy amount of gold to get the hilt fixed. Never had a better sword. I probably never will." He got so used to having the advantages of Valyrian steel that anything but felt wrong in his right hand.
"I know how you feel, lad. No sword in my hands has ever felt familiar to my skills since leaving Longclaw behind. But that' it, isn't it? My father taught me that's it's not the steel that is the sword but-"
"The man who wields it." Jon finished. "My father taught me the same thing." It wasn't a hidden lesson, but only the greatest of warriors knew that for any weapon the strength lay in the wielder.
"He must be a good fighter."
"Was," Jon corrected, causing an apologetic frown to fall on Jorah, "he's dead. Murdered by the Reds."
"The Reds?"
"The Red Religion, Worshipers of R'hllor. Those monsters that worship the Lord of Light and burn people alive for his sake. All of them can bleed to death and I would gladly bathe in that river."
There was a tinge of disgust emanating from the Bear Knight. Had he never met someone with hatred as great as Jon's? Robert Baratheon's hate for House Targaryen was no secret and Ser Jorah feasted with the King before. "Such hate for something doesn't come lightly."
"No it doesn't. So watch yourself on the road ahead. And keep watch over Dany too. She'll need it especially."
Ser Jorah's lips swiped the rim of his horn when he looked at Jon. "Dany? I would have guessed you were somewhat close to her but not enough to address her so casually."
Idiot. He shouldn't be addressing her so casually. Jon tried to play it off with a level head. "She needed someone to listen to her and I did. In turn she helped me with my troubles. Nothing wrong with having a friend, is there?"
"If you're a friend then why aren't you coming with us? You come off as a decent swordsman, especially if you're brave enough to fight with two swords."
Jon's fingers tightened around his mug's handle and he started pressing his thumb down on it as if to break the damn thing. "I have things I must do. Questions that need answers. If I didn't have those then by damn I would go. I want to."
"Hm…" Jorah began tapping his finger on the wood of the bar. "You're more than just her friend, aren't you?" Jon turned to Jorah as the Bear Knight drank from his own ale too. "I saw the two of you last night at the festival. She bought a belt for you. I didn't realize she was the princess. I never imagined she'd be out of the manse, especially on the eve of her wedding with a young man." Jorah eyed him with something that was either a smirk or a scowl, maybe both? "Did the two if you…"
Jon looked down to his ale and drank more, not desiring to answer.
"I guess that's a yes. You're right to get as far as you can then. But fear not, I won't let out your secret. If Drogo knew this your head would be free of your shoulders and hung from the neck of his horse."
"He'd do that already if he knew I stole from him before. And you know what? That man is so high in his own glory when his braid should have been cut a long time ago. My father stopped Drogo's entire horde in their tracks by himself. How can that not be a defeat?"
"Did he? How's that done?" Jorah's words carried doubt but also a peaked interest.
Jon made sure to keep in check his liquor so as to not reveal too much. "He set a field of grass on fire so we could run. Twenty thousand riders and that Khal could do nothing."
"Well there's the reason. If your father had stood his ground then perhaps it could have been considered a defeat, but to turn and run's a great coward's act. So a draw then."
The conversation was interrupted with Lord Forrester stepping behind the two of them. It looks like his business with Vedros was concluded and there wasn't a mark on him. Quite the achievement.
"You finished?" Ser Jorah asked.
"Aye. Let's be off."
The bear Knight nodded, leaving money not just for his drink but Jon's as well. "I wish you good fortunes in your travels, young man. Maybe we'll meet again."
"I hope so. You're good company." Jon then watched as the two men of the North departed, Lord Forrester giving a second look back to Vedros.
He finished his drink and returned to Vedros with Beskha. "You alright?" Jon asked.
"Alright enough." Vedros was pulled up and slumped between his two friends. "Now let's finally get the fuck out of here."
Daenerys
Her hips and waist burned with pain from riding. Her eyes stung from the salt of tears streaking down her face when she rode with Drogo. He brought her far away from the wedding, out to a small grass covered cliff overlooking the sea. When they stopped, she couldn't get down from her Silver. Drogo had to lift her down and the moment her sandals brushed the grass she collapsed and sat.
Drogo stood over her, looking at her with steel eyes. He didn't laugh or glare, he didn't react at all at her weakness before him. It was mysterious in a way. What he did do was take her Silver and his stallion to graze the fresh green grass of their own will.
While Daenerys tried to breath through her pain, she looked far out to sea before her, to the setting sun out to the west. For one brief moment as the great ball of light dipped into the horizon, she thought she could see the silhouette of the shores of Westeros.
Home was out there. Home was waiting for her to return.
Drogo came back to her side, circling around her like a vulture as he began undoing the laces of his leather bracers and lazily dropped them to the side. He started doing the same with his belt and the golden medallions.
"Do you speak the common tongue?" Daenerys asked as she massaged her hips, anything to help ease her pain. Her hands drifted to her feet and she slowly removed her sandals, finding hesitation in every movement thinking it would somehow put things off.
"No." Drogo replied. He reached for her dress, removing the three headed dragon pin from the strap above her left breast.
"Is no the only word you know?"
"No." He began pulling the bells from his hair and untying his braid.
Daenerys found the strength to stand and rested her hands on Drogos just as he finished the last knot in his hair.
She found his hard face softened when he looked at her. His gaze was not as intimidating as before. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen."
"...Daenerys." Now he knew another word. That somehow made her feel better. Drogo raised a hand to her cheek and wiped her tears away with a large, rough thumb. "No?"
'You are the Blood of the Dragon. You have held the red fire of the heart in your hands.'
She wiped her other cheek of the tears before unclipping the straps to her dress and letting it fall, revealing her naked self to the Khal, her husband. She was still afraid of this, but she was also finding deep within herself the strength to be fearless. Her first time, her first love was with Jon. And nothing could take away the love she felt with him.
She pressed her hands to his broad copper chest, feeling the great warmth of his body and strong beating heart, pushing him down to sit on the grass. "Yes."