A/N: Longclaw: Hey all. Sorry it took so long, but we're getting to some awesome stuff.

Great News! I have published two new stories: Dragonshield and Bet of Dragons. Be sure to check it out :D

BRuh4: Hiya there, it's been a hot minute since the last update. Apologies, we've been busy. I know things have been sort of wilder than normal for me recently.

But here we are with this next one. Hope you like it.

Enjoy.

Chapter 46: Worse Plans

Within the low light of the Black Cells, only banished by the orange-red flame of the torch for a few feet in each direction, Jon watched as his last statement was finally registered by Arya. "Excuse me?" his sister asked, half in disbelief and half thinking he was only japing her.

He cleared his throat, knowing he'd be pelted for it but not backing down. "I can't leave, Arya. Go without me."

There was another pause before she hit him in his chest. Rations may have been barely adequate and his cell giving the inability to do any standing exercise but Jon hadn't rotted here enough for his muscles to atrophy. He stayed upright, which only drew more abuse. "I am not fucking leaving you in here, brother!" she hissed. "Sansa told me about Theon. What he became. Did Stannis do that to you?!"

"What? No… of course not."

"Then why the fuck do you want to stay in this hellhole?"

"Maybe he's plannin' somethin', little girl."

"Shut it!" Gendry barked at the Hound from where he waited… essentially between Sandor's cell and Jaime's.

The latter chuckled. "You got the Baratheon look, boy. What are you, one of Robert's bastards?" Gendry slammed his fist against Jaime's door, which drew out more chuckles. "I'll take that as a yes. Apparently, Cersei didn't get them all." The grief over her was still a pit in his soul, but imagining her rage from the afterlife was perversely amusing. "Anyway, Lady Stark."

"I'm no Lady, so shut up before I kill you, Lannister."

"Arya…" Jon chided, only to get a withering glare from his sister.

"You don't talk." She pointed her dagger at him. "You're coming with me or I'll knock you unconscious and drag you out."

Jaime snorted. "You don't look like you could drag a sack of flour."

She gestured to Gendry. "He'll do it."

"No doubt he would," Sandor mused. "The boy's practically eye-fuckin' her every five seconds." If he wasn't so surly all the time, one would think he was enjoying this. Gendry flushed red and slammed his fist against Sandor's cell again, only drawing a laugh from the imprisoned warrior.

"Ugh, this is getting annoying," Jaime remarked. "Little Wolf, he's trying to tell you he has a fucking plan." An impressed snort. "Ned Stark's son is finally playing the damn game before he gets himself killed."

Arya blinked, confused. "What is he talking about?"

"Arya, I think we need to go soon," Gendry observed.

"The guard shifts are an hour-long. It's only been what, fifteen minutes? Hold your damn horses." Arya was never one to take risks, but this was too important and better do it here where no one else was likely to disturb them. "What game? What's going on?"

Jon shook his head. "Not important, but what I'm planning should give peace… which we'll need to take on the real threat."

"You're not making sense Jon…"

A sudden tenseness silenced everyone. "Someone's coming!" Gendry hissed, ducking into an empty cell. Arya acted on instinct, pushing Jon back into his cell and hiding in a dark alcove, hands clutched to her dagger. If the guards came early…

She shot out, grabbing an old man and pushing him back against the walls. Gendry was out with a sword to deal with… "Ser Davos?" Arya said, finally recognizing the man.

Groaning, Davos rubbed the back of his head before staring at his attackers. "Gendry? Lady Arya?"

"Davos?" Jon ducked out of his cell, finding his trusted friend being menaced by his sister and her… man?

"Well…" Davos stumbled. "What's going... here?"

Arya took a half step towards Davos with her hand firmly grasped around Needle. But Jon grabbed her arm. "Arya, no. He's fine."

"Fine? How?" she said. "He's seen us."

"It doesn't matter," Jon told her. "He's a loyal friend."

Davos raised his fist, showing off a set of jangling keys. "I did also come to free you."

A bitter laugh came from Jon. "You've always been too honorable for your own good, Ser Davos."

"Look who's fucking talking," grumbled Sandor. "Can you open the fucking door? I'd like to stretch my legs."

"Who said I'm getting you out, dog?" Arya shot back.

"You're taking him, and Jaime Lannister too."

Before Arya, slack-jawed again, could berate Jon, Jaime spoke up. "Stark, forget about me. I'm not worth your time."

"I think there's still things for you to do, Lannister." Dany would definitely like a word with him. "Davos, what's going on up there? Why are you here?"

The old man sighed. "Long story." He placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Don't ask me to betray Stannis, but I have a duty to you too. And to young Shireen." Their eyes met. "I came to set you free because you don't belong in a cage. I'm not sure what Stannis plans are for you. But I don't think it's anything good."

"Which is why we need to leave, now," Arya pointed out. Glad someone thought like her.

"Stannis won't kill me. He still thinks he needs me. I think he wants me back on his side," Jon said.

"But you're not. He's going mad."

Davos shrugged, "I wouldn't say that. He just has a lot of power now. He's not sure what to do with it yet. Also, Daenerys Targaryen breathing down his neck isn't helping his paranoia."

"Regardless, staying here truly is mad. Please, Jon, come back home with me. I've come for you and I won't leave without you," Arya said, pleading. "Don't make me take you unconscious."

Jon sighed, stepping forward he took Arya's hands in his. "Listen to me, I have a plan. If I go back to Winterfell that solves nothing. I have to stay where I can do some good."

"You're not making any sense."

"Just let me explain," Jon huffed. "You will take Sandor and Jaime with you. I will stay here. Davos will sound the alarm. If I stay whilst you all escape it might prove my loyalty to Stannis. It won't be real but it will be to him. I think all he wants is me by his side again. If I dangle that in front of his face he'll take it like a starving dog." Everything he said was on the fly, just jumbled together but sometimes a person had to roll with the punches as they came.

He'd seen worse plans.

"I think you're forgetting your insubordination against him," Arya said. "He'll kill you."

"Stannis knows what he had with Jon. He beat me. He faces a greater threat with Daenerys. He won't pass up a chance for his ace in the hole again," Jaime mentioned. Arya glared at him but didn't say anything.

"Ser Jaime is right," Jon agreed. "If Stannis can have me back he'll jump at the opportunity. He may not trust me now. But if I choose staying in the cells when the option of escape stares me in the face, he'll have to think twice about it."

"What if you're wrong?"

"It's a gamble. Like every plan is."

Arya shook out of Jon's grasp and walked over to Gendry who just shrugged. "What if he just uses you as a hostage?" She asked.

"I've been a hostage before. I'm prepared to talk myself out of it."

"Since when are you good with words?" Arya turned around with a scoff. "That's never been you."

"I've changed a lot since then. I'll figure it out, Arya. I'll be fine. I can handle Stannis."

"So, what's supposed to happen then? If he just doesn't kill you for some reason?"

"Well, ideally he'll send me to inform on Daenerys." Everyone but Jaime gasped. "What? It's logical."

"You just spent time explaining how you think he'll want you by his side. Now you're saying you think he might send you away?" Arya shook her head, crossing her arms. "Your plan is sounding worse and worse by the minute. I'll make sure you don't hit your head when Gendry clobbers you."

"Arya, I'm solid on this. Besides, you think that I'd just let myself be knocked unconscious?"

"The plan is worth the risk," Jaime said. "If Stannis trusts him he either gets to stay here and dismantle him from the inside. While sending information out about what's happening. Or, if he gets sent to Daenerys he can report back incorrect information to Stannis to fool him. Either way helps everyone against our common enemy."

"Jaime is right, again."

"Why in Seven Hells would he send you to Daenerys?"

"Well, I think he believes she has unrequited love for me. So much so I could return and be trusted by her. He'd want me to feed him information so he could plan accordingly," Jon surmised.

"Even I think it could work," Sandor half-laughed.

"Yeah, perhaps," Gendry said, shrugging.

"Neither of you are helping," Arya scowled.

"Arya, I'm sorry," Jon said, walking over to her again. "But this is happening." Before she could respond he moved over to Davos. "Go sound the alarm, but give it a quarter-hour or so before you do."

"Are you sure about this, Jon?" Davos asked. "This is surely wilder than any other battle plan of yours."

Jon put a hand on his shoulder, "I am, Ser Davos." At the reassurance, Davos murmured his assent and raced off.

When he was gone, Arya tugged on Jon's hand. "Come on."

"Arya, I told you. I can't go with you."

"Any reason you have for not coming with me is horseshit. I came to get you. You are coming with me. I can't leave you here," Arya said, not backing down. "You think you'll be able to play the damn Stag? Stannis will kill you. Burn you at the stake just like he did Cersei."

"That won't happen," Jon waved it off.

"How do you know?"

Jaime answered from behind them, "Because Jon is the son that Stannis always wanted. He won't throw that away."

Arya glanced back to him with a scowl, "Did I ask you? You're lucky to be even breathing right now."

"You're as feisty as your mother, perhaps more so," Jaime pointed out, shuddering.

The She-Wolf made a move toward the Lannister, "I'm sorry, did you want to go see your sister and the rest of your lowlife family now?" Sandor chuckled, shaking his head.

"That's enough, Arya," Jon told her. "Let it go."

"Let it go? After all he's done? After all his family has done to us?"

"I've paid for it… All of it. Everything I've done. Has been paid back to me tenfold. I have nothing left," Jaime said.

"Oh, no. You haven't. Not yet."

Frustrated, Jon grabbed hold of Arya. "Hey, I said let it go. I have a plan or… something like a plan."

She sighed, "What does that mean?"

"I will stay," Jon began. "You will take Sandor and Jaime away. Somewhere else."

"You cannot expect me to travel with a Lannister, Jon."

"I do, and you will."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is this about the Dragon Queen?" Jon was silent, meaning she hit a good point. "If you wanted to save your life from Stannis and go back home all you'd need to do is beg his forgiveness and bend the knee… if what you say of him is true that is." She wasn't sure, but Arya could see Jon was. So if he's playing a game it's for her…

"I'm doing this because I have to, Arry. There's no other way we can live in peace. Only if Daenerys wins this war."

Her eyes widened. "What the fuck happened between you and the Dragon Queen to make you so loyal to her all of a sudden? Seven hells, she's the one who attacked our armies."

"Aye, she did."

"You didn't answer my question. Why?"

"Arry!" Gendry hissed, gesturing for her to come. "Guard shift soon!"

Watching Arya torn, Jon made the answer. "Because I need her light in my life. She makes the darkness not so bad." It would have to do for now - he knew Arya deserved something not so complex, but they didn't have the time to dither. "Go, Arya. Just get, don't worry about me."

"I'm not leaving you." It wasn't as insistent though. The reality was dawning on her.

Jon smiled at her. "Don't worry, I'll be alright. We'll see each other again." Without bidding, Arya lurched into his arms, hugging him tightly before running after Gendry, leaving him to his fate.

Alone again. Jon thought of Dany and allowed his few memories to calm him. Let the dice fly high.

Teeth clenching, Stannis fought the urge to snarl. "He bent the knee to me, Baelish, to me!"

Lord Petyr Baelish tried his best to look affronted, and hoped it paid off. "Lord Hightower will pay for his treachery, but his actions are understandable. You did not vanquish him in open battle but the Dragon Queen did - and what whispers I know indicate that hostages have been taken. Lord Hightower's brothers reside in Sunspear and his youngest sister is Daenerys Targaryen's personal hostage on Dragonstone."

"Damn it! Damn it to the seven hells!" he slammed his fist on the table. "Cersei is dead, the Kingdoms lay before my feet, and the Iron Throne is mine and yet I still haven't achieved victory." Night had fallen once the King's War Council was concluded, and the news was… middling on all fronts. The Hightowers refused all requests for troops and indicated that - while on defensive footing - their loyalties were now with the Dragon Queen. The North wasn't responding, while most other realms had already contributed what they could.

It was, frankly, a mess. The naval strength he had all those years before were dashed, the Dragon Queen controlling the waves. He couldn't reclaim Dragonstone, nor could he go after the Targaryen beachhead at Duskendale without earning the wroth of the dragons.

"I need something, Baelish… I need something to give me a victory."

"Your Grace, I may have an idea. Or at least something to consider."

"Well, spit it out."

"If we can be certain that Jon Stark hasn't been totally corrupted by the Dragon Queen, but… She also has a deep affection for him just as her late brother had for Lyanna Stark." The irony of it all was not lost on Littlefinger, who knew more of that than he had any right to. "I think there is a plan that could work."

"I see," Stannis said, stroking his chin. "I think I understand."

"If Jon could be placed there, with her. If she trusts him completely, perhaps blinded by her love for him. Yet he is still loyal to you."

"Tear her up from the inside…" Stannis whispered, eyes widening.

"Whilst feeding us important information about her whereabouts."

The idea began to stew in Stannis' mind, the Stag King stroking his beard. It was… quite devious and beyond what he considered to be proper and honorable conduct of warfare. Yet Ned Stark died because he wouldn't be as devious as my cunt goodsister. The Dragon Queen wasn't one to be trifled with, and it seemed to Stannis that even as the Iron Throne rested beneath him that he was at his most vulnerable.

All his victories would mean nothing under the flames of Daenerys Targaryen's three dragons. "I'm inclined to agree with you, Baelish, but would Stark agree to it?"

"You don't trust him?"

"I wish to beyond all other desires, but after what happened… I cannot be sure."

"Someone as he has every reason to despise House Targaryen. Even if Daenerys Targaryen suffers from the same weakness for a Northerner as what brought Rhaegar to his knees, he will never fall for her," Baelish lied. He knew not what Jon Stark truly felt, nor did he care. "While the Sand Snake gives you leverage over Dorne you have no options but defensive ones in the war against the Dragon Queen. Only through subterfuge can you obtain victory… as you did over your brother Renly."

The King stiffened. "Watch what you speak of, Lord Hand."

"I do not know much, but I do know that Brienne of Tarth didn't kill him. She was like his shadow." Watching Stannis' face pale and fists clenched, he smiled softly. "None of this is condemnation, your Grace. You have my respect for doing what needs to be done. And this needs to be done if you are to assume uncontested rule over the Seven Kingdoms."

Before Stannis could respond, the sound of shouts drew their attention. What in seven hells… Randomly, a guardsman came through the door without knocking. Stannis and Littlefinger both jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall. The guard walked over, red in the face. "What in seven hells are you doing?" Stannis asked, aghast.

"Your Grace, I'm sorry to report there's been an infiltration. There's been a prison break."

"What!?" Stannis yelped, standing up so fast his chair fell backward. "What happened?"

"The alarm was sounded… that's all I know…"

Growling, Stannis grabbed his sword from where it rested and hobbled past the useless guard. His leg throbbed, but the Stag King clenched his teeth and willed away the pain. "Seal the gates!" he bellowed to no one in particular. "Lockdown the entire city!"

A sleepy night - one brought into effect in the lull following the great events of the battle and sack that scorched the city - was transformed all around the King. It was as if a beehive had been shaken, guards dashing to and fro. Servants were locked in their quarters, soldiers watching over them as tensions were high. Commanders barked orders from Lords and knights, who in turn listened to the bellows of the King himself.

No news was forthcoming in this chaos, other than the break that happened in the Black Cells and Davos was the one who sounded the alarm with the household guard. Stannis could only assume the worst…

Lannister diehards seeking the Kingslayer.

Northmen wanting Jon.

The Dragon Queen cleaning up loose ends…

Perhaps the middle of the three he could stomach, defiance and treason though it was. Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he spotted someone who could give him answers. "Davos!"

Seated alongside the chief jailer - watched over by a Kingsguard and other guardsmen - Davos stood and bowed. "Your Grace." His limbs were shaking.

"Enough of that," Stannis grunted. "Give this man some wine." A gourd was proffered and Davos greedily took it. "What happened?"

"Arya Stark… she and someone else somehow snuck into the Black Cells. I stumbled on them while they were doing the deed and they overpowered me."

"I'll have their heads for this!" Stannis seethed. "Did you see them enter?"

Taking a swig of wine to steady his nerves - an action that didn't look at all out of place to his great relief - Davos shook his head. "No, I merely happened upon it. Wouldn't have noticed that the Kingslayer or Hound disappeared."

"I find that hard to believe," Littlefinger mused, crossing his arms. If he could rid Davos as incompetent once and for all, his position would be easier.

But the lead jailer came to his defense. "Such is the nature of the Black Cells, your Grace. Many go in and just fall apart. Dead to the world."

Stannis glared at him. "So you're saying you don't check on them?"

"No… no… your Grace," the man started sputtering, but Davos saved him.

"That's not the point. The point is that Jon told me of the escape."

There was a silence, wide pairs of eyes finding Davos. "Jon Stark told you?"

"Aye, his sister came to rescue him and take him North but he refused…"

"And she took the Hound and Jaime Lannister while letting her brother rot in the cells?" Littlefinger snorted. "I find that hard to believe." That Jon Stark might stay was less fantastical… perhaps this could be used to his advantage…

Davos shook his head. "The Lannisters have hurt the Starks more than any other family save perhaps his Grace's. He might be marked for death in the North and I don't begrudge her for taking him."

"Nor do I," Stannis interjected, "But it's still treason." He rubbed his leg, feeling it twinge. "Jon really sounded the alarm?"

"Aye, your Grace."

He thought for a moment. "Double the guard at the walls and secure the castle. Once that is done and the sun rises, I will want to speak with him again."

It happened every night - well, most nights - since they first joined. Trudging from the great hall or from her solar, eyes haggard and head throbbing from a hard day trying to keep the disparate factions of the North together as winter hit, Sansa would insist on him escorting her. Brienne guarded her during the day, but he at night and in the morning walk from her chambers to the private dining hall.

Brienne knew… or she had to have had a clue, Sansa figured.

While her younger self would've been horrified to be spotted or figured out, so concerned she was over such trite things as court gossip, the woman that emerged in the darkness as the Lady of Winterfell had no such qualms. It was stupid to her. In a life of pain, one sought the little lights of pleasure where one could.

That being said, outside her chambers, they were perfectly formal and put together. She wore her thick woolen dresses in her house colors. He liked his leather armor and sword clipped to his belt. Goofy and unskilled as he was when they first met, Sansa's surreptitious glances at Ser Podrick during the day revealed a powerful warrior. He grew more skilled by the day, and such brought him confidence.

She liked his confidence. Unlike Joffrey or Ramsay, it was firm yet gentle. Never intruding on her.

Perhaps that was why Sansa was drawn to him. He had an air of strength that was never used to encroach on others. Jon was the same way, yet Sansa took quite a while to distinguish that from the other sort of confidence.

Not anymore.

"Here we are, my Lady," Podrick allowed, dipping his head and motioning for her to enter the now open door.

Sansa nodded to him and made her way to the door - only to turn back. Red hair framing her face, she bit her lip. An unspoken invitation.

He reached for her hand, silently asking permission.

She grew to enjoy his politeness. A smile, saying yes without words.

Podrick said nothing else, just following her inside.

It proceeded just like every night. As soon as the door closed their lips met. Unlike her past experiences, it was always Sansa that initiated, and she greatly appreciated Podrick allowing her to take the lead. She never talked about what she endured, but he seemed to understand. Never taking more than he was bid to… which slowly lowered Sansa's walls as she fought her darkness to reward him with more.

Tugging him to the bed, the arrangement always proceeded the same. They'd kiss, they'd touch - he'd warm her insides with his sweet yet passionate caresses until she yearned for more… but Podrick never pushed since she never gave him the agreement too. Sansa simply wasn't ready with the thoughts of Ramsay's brutality and Joffrey's cruelty still harming her.

But she was no defenseless maiden. She was a direwolf, the woman that ran Jon's Kingdom while he was away. Sansa Stark was stronger than this, and in finally finding a good man she was determined to put the pain behind her.

A week of steeling herself was about to come to fruition. "Bed me, Pod," she whispered as he kissed her neck.

Stripped of his leather cuirass, he wore but a tunic and trousers. Podrick looked in her eyes, shocked. "Are you sure, my Lady?"

Sansa cupped his cheek. "Please."

"I don't want to hurt you…"

"Go slow, but I want it, Pod." Her hands began to loosen the ties of her dress. "Please?"

Reclaiming her lips, the slow caresses grew more ardent. Flesh exposed on both participants, Sansa for the first time in her life allowing her body to be bare to a man. She trembled out of nervousness, yet soon found such nerves misplaced.

It was warm. It was gentle. It was… Feeling his strokes and kisses as a welcome guest rather than a hated invader, sensations she had never before experienced made Sansa fall undone. Losing herself in pleasure long denied to her.

Drawn away from the scene, their eyes returned to their normal grey hue - dull and listless, but still recognizably human. Such was valued by them, for such remaining features of he who had once been Brandon Stark were needed. Unfortunate, but needed at least for now.

Amusement danced in their mind. A more lecherous greenseer would've kept watching the scene. Allowing their thoughts to wander pruriently and their base desires aroused. They thought such things trite and stupid. No, the feeling approximating happiness - more like satisfaction really - was due to the simple fact that what he subtly engineered was coming to pass.

The sister of Brandon Stark had found a man to care for her, finally after so many years. They'd seen the abuse she suffered and made catalog of it. Sansa was hardened, but even such a person sought out love and she now had it. Now her guard would be down, and her suspicions of them distracted.

Crushing that joy of the Stark girl would wait till the usefulness of the distraction wore out. Though… perhaps they could be of more use to me…

Something to ponder for the future as their eyes rolled back in their head, losing themselves in the vast continuum of what was and what will be.

"Jon Stark has reached King's Landing."

From where she sat before the Painted Table, eyes hard and staring at the various markers as if she expected them to start moving on their own accord to do battle with each other, Daenerys Targaryen's gaze shot up. Her attention fully directed to her Master of Whisperers. "He has?"

"Are you sure of this, Lord Varys?" Missandei asked, feeling of some dread building. Slowly, she inched herself closer to the Queen, ready to give support if the whispers were as bad as she expected.

"As sure as I can be, Lady Missandei," Varys replied, his hands clasped together. "He arrived in the capitol just as Cersei Lannister was being executed. Burned at the stake."

Eyes flickered to Tyrion, who was stone-faced. "Many would think it… fitting," he finally stated, voice ashen. "Perhaps I as well, since she wished me dead since I was born…"

"My birds say she did not die from the flames, but from a thrown blade."

Tyrion blinked. "What do you mean?"

"What does this have to do with J… Lord Stark?" Dany asked.

Varys took a breath. "His younger sister, Arya, allegedly tossed a blade at Cersei and stabbed her in the heart before the flames could take her life."

A new voice spoke from across the Painted Table. "Damn shame, if you ask me. Shoulda let her burn." A 'gift' from Lord Baelor Hightower along with his promised hostages, Lord Garlan Tyrell of Highgarden was the new Warden of the South by Daenerys' decree. He controlled little, for it was not certain how reliable the banners of the Honeywine Lords would be under the command of someone who didn't control his own keep, but his status and competence in military matters brought him a place on the Queen's council. "After what she did to Margaery, Loras, and father, I was looking forward to her facing the dragon's flames."

"Moot as of now, Lord Garlan," Barristan grunted, a tired sigh leaving his lips. "Knowing Stannis, I doubt he took that well. What happened to Lady Arya?"

"As far as my birds can tell me, nothing more was seen of her… but Jon Stark was imprisoned by decree of Stannis after he drew a sword on him in the Throne Room not hours later."

Already on edge as the words dragged on, finally hearing of Jon's fate made Dany's heart clench. Her face went white as she fell back into her seat - the only one of the council afforded the right to be seated during their sessions. She closed her eyes. He protected his sister… gods, Jon, why didn't you just take her and come here? Daenerys wished he was around to ask him, but… "Do you know what Stannis is to do with him?"

"The punishment for high treason… well…" Varys trailed off.

"Stannis has shown his preferred sentence," Tyrion finished the thought. "Burning at the stake."

Suddenly, Daenerys slammed her fist on the table - making the markers shake. Missy was by her side almost immediately, a hand on her shoulder, while the rest merely waited. "How soon can we advance against Stannis' forces?" Her voice was hard - draconic. The strongest fire smoldering inside her.

While concerns abounded at her anger clouding her objective judgment, from a purely military sense a campaign was logical at the moment. Stannis had just taken the capitol - or more accurately a pile of ashes and ruins. His army would be exhausted and disorganized, while the only forces of the Queen's that had suffered were the Dornish. Precisely the forces that would not be participating in any campaign.

"After capturing the keeps north of the capital, none of our forces have been molested, your Grace," Barristan noted. "Cersei kept her armies within King's Landing while only skirmishes between patrols and scouts were documented against Stannis. Ours are at full strength."

"Depending on whether Stannis and my uncle Euron have made a pact or not," spoke Theon Greyjoy - he was usually silent and non-participatory in the discussions unless called. "We either match him in terms of naval strength or greatly outnumber the Stag."

"That may be so," Tyrion spoke, "But I wouldn't advise going straight at the capitol."

"Why not?" Dany's eyes narrowed. "You warned me against launching firestorms in the city, but Cersei and Stannis have already done so. There exists no concern anymore."

Clearing his throat, Barristan interjected. "I agree with Tyrion, your Grace. Stannis has the manpower and space to simply barricade himself among the ruins and wear you down. Dothraki screamers are not adept at urban fighting and the Unsullied cannot use their skills in close quarters." They had seen that first hand in Meereen. "We need to force him to come out and face us on the open field, and I'm afraid that's more a political solution rather than one to be solved by force of arms."

Blinking, Dany thought for a moment. "He has nearly all the Kingdoms behind him in some manner besides Dorne, correct?"

"Aye, your Grace."

"If he is to be threatened significantly enough to be desperate for battle, then we need to reconstitute a strong enough alliance among the other Westerosi Lords." It rankled her, but for now, Daenerys would play the wheel until she could acquire the power and position to break it. "We have Dorne and enough of the Reach to threaten and invade the south of Stannis' domain. Any chance at rallying any Stormlords to oppose Stannis?"

Varys shook his head. "They are a loyal bunch, your Grace. You'd find more success in swaying the Riverlords and those of the Vale. The latter was brought into Stannis' orbit by one Petyr Baelish."

"Your old sparring partner in the verbal arts," Tyrion chuckled. "Aye, some likely see him as a usurper, so there's an ability to root out at least some willing to see you as the lesser evil to get rid of him."

Dany nodded. "Send out the feelers." Her eyes flickered back to Tyrion. "How about the Westerlands? They're under the rule of your aunt, no?"

Tyrion gulped. "I would assume so, your Grace. But if you're thinking that you could sway them to your side it would be difficult."

"How so? Stannis has caused them far more pain than I ever could."

"Aye, but their armies are essentially hostages within Stannis' camp. They will not allow them to be massacred if they declare for you, not after all they have lost. You'll need to show them the strength of arms to be able to protect them."

Easier said than done. Daenerys saved the most important for last. "And the North?"

"Impossible." The word was spoken by Barristan, Tyrion, and Varys.

"Explain."

Eying each other, the three advisors wished Jon Stark was still here. He out of all of them could put to words what they all thought - it was… complex. A thorny issue. Eventually, after a tense silence, Theon spoke up from his experiences as a ward of the Starks. "Your Grace, there's a phrase used in the North, namely 'the North…'"

"Yes, yes, I know. The North Remembers." Jon had told her of it, and she didn't wish to be patronized like a child learning his lessons.

"Right… to them, you are not just the Mad King's daughter. There may have been wiggle room there, but now you are the one that killed Jon."

"He… he isn't dead." No thanks to you. Daario may have buried the knife in his heart, but Dany knew it was her responsibility in the light of day.

Theon shook his head. "Without absolute proof, they will not believe you. Stannis told them first, most likely, and therefore you are the incarnate of evil in their eyes." He looked at each of the other councilors before returning to Daenerys. "The North is the last bastion of the Old Ways, of the First Men. The only one to hold out against the Andal invaders. Except, that only brought to them both pride and a deep mistrust of others. Roose Bolton killed his King, my once-brother Robb." He closed his eyes, the memory of his betrayal of Robb still fresh. "But the North still accepted him because he was of them, a northerner. You will not be afforded the same luxury, so it is pointless to seek their alliance unless it is Jon that you treat with and send North."

Dany thought of it. "What if I send you?"

"Your Grace?"

"You are Sansa Stark's brother, effectively. If I send you, would she trust you when you tell her that Jon Stark is alive?"

"She might, but the others likely won't."

"I don't care. Do what you need to. My Essosi captains can handle whatever fleet Stannis sends at us."

This time, Varys could give good news. "Your Grace, I was waiting for the right moment to tell you of this, but we can ultimately put to bed any issue with control of the sea lanes."

Her eyebrow rose. "Go on."

"The Tigers of Volantis have been defeated by the Elephant party. Lead Triarch Jaenyra Vhassar and I have been in correspondence and she wishes to forge an alliance with you… with her, she brings the Three Daughters and the Magistrates of Pentos."

"Volantis was among the coalition of slavers that sought to rip Meereen away from our Queen," Missandei said with a scowl.

"That was Malaquo Maegyr and the Tiger party, which was defeated for their role in the disaster there. Vhassar is more willing to compromise with the new order of things. In exchange for ships and armies to your cause, all she asks are trade rights and a twenty-year pause before you demand the emancipation of their slaves."

In any other time, Daenerys would have reacted with fury - demanding no compromise to the issue after Tyrion's attempts had resulted in a quick stab in the back. But… "Bring their representatives to me and I will support an alliance close to the terms you've spelled out." Eyes watched her with varying degrees of surprise. "Ten years, not twenty."

"I shall inform them," Varys replied.

Nodding, Dany raised her hand and waved them out. "Leave me." As per experience, all filed out aside from Missandei, whose arms opened just as Daenerys fell into her embrace. "He rots in the Black Cells," she said, voice trembling with a suppressed grief and terror.

Missandei rubbed her back soothingly. "I know, I know."

Even before her oldest friend she held back. Daenerys couldn't help it, but knew if she let go she'd be lost. "I should've made him stay."

"He needed this, your Grace."

"He needed to be alive. He needed to be safe. He needed to be… with me." It was selfish, Daenerys knew, but what use was selflessness if all it led to was his death. His burning at the stake. "That stupid… pigheaded…" She said no more, merely standing still.

Hours later, the last rays of sunlight poking over the western horizon, the Dragon Queen made her way across the grass of the rolling plains of her island domain. The dragons stretched out before her, Viserion leaping from the cliffs on his evening fishing, Rhaegal morose and quiet as he lay curled up upon the grass, and Drogon - her own mount - merely watching her with his amber gaze. "Hello, boys," she said in High Valyrian, the musical tone of her accent coaxing a gentle growl from him.

He let her rub the scales of his snout, purring softly. The dragons were monsters to all others, but to her, they were the most wonderful of beasts. Intelligent and ever devoted to their riders.

"Jon Stark is in danger and there's nothing I can do." With them, she could say anything.

As if knowing what she needed, Drogon lowered his wing. Wordlessly she climbed onto his back, letting the warm scales below warm her comfortingly.

"Sovegon." At the command, he roared, pushing off the cliffs and flapping hard. Higher he went, drawing Dany into the night sky underneath the wide gulf of stars.

This was her domain. This was her realm. And in this, Dany found the only scrap of peace she could feel since parting with Jon.

A/N: BRuh4: Arya goes along with Jon's plan, if you can call it that. Jaime and Sandor go free. Jon is left to deal with Stannis, whom he believes he can handle. Some Pod and Sansa stuff for fans of that. Yeah but Bran is a total creep. Wheels are turning.

We have some stuff coming up we're excited about. It just might take a while for it to be released. Just the way things are currently for the two of us. But who knows? Maybe things will change and we'll be on weekly updates like at the beginning of this story. Haha... Don't get your hopes up.

Anyways, see you again down the road.

Longclaw: We get some update on what Dany is doing. Safe to say she's worried for Jon to the extreme. But our main man is plotting just how to get back to her... Littlefinger has his own agenda as well.

Until next time!