AN: Happy Easter and welcome back to the main timeline of the plot! In this chapter, you'll get to see a conversation that I yearned for but was ultimately denied - that between Daenerys and Stannis. How would these two have gotten along? What would they have had to say about all the things that had happened in the past? Would they have been able to find common ground? This is what I wondered, and this chapter is one possible answer to it. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

A Parlay in the Snow

"Your men, how far away are they?"

Stannis' voice sounded strong and unwavering despite the terrible predicament he found himself in. The cold, the pain, the anguish at hearing his daughter's cries, all would have been enough to make a grown man falter, but he would not give in. It was his tent, after all, and not even her famed beauty did anything to make him stray.

"Not far," the dragonqueen assured him, taking the seat he was offering. "You will have no cause to regret your hospitality. Shall we have the bread and salt, then?"

She pointed towards the food she had brought, and with a stern face he accepted. The ate in silence for a moment or two, Stannis unwilling to let it show just how much his stomach had yearned for such indulgence.

"Why have you come here?" he then asked.

"The same reason as you, I presume."

Stannis put down the bread, his eyes searching her perfectly young face for traces of deceit.

"The War of Winter," he said in a serious tone.

Daenerys nodded. "The true war lies to the North, your red priestess was right about that. You have spoken to those who saw the true enemy, you know better than most that nothing else matters. If we lose this war, Winterfell will soon be forgotten. The Iron Throne will be forgotten, not even a distant memory… because there will be no one left to remember."

He rose to his feet and turned around, for he did not wish to let her look at his face as he spoke.

"While I must agree with each of your words, I find it hard to imagine a foreign queen would risk her life and army just to come to my aid."

He heard her snicker quietly, but didn't turn around to see her smile. There was something unnerving about her smile.

"Then perhaps you mistake the situation. I am no foreigner, Stannis Baratheon, for I was born on the very island you have called your home these past years. Nor have I come to aid you," she said in a playful tone. "I come for all of Westeros, or none of it. For if we do not stand united, we will die all on our own. I had thought that you of all would understand."

It sounded compelling, but Stannis knew things were never as they seemed. And if something seemed so sweet and pure and tempting, it had to be anything but. He would not be swayed easily, as any other man probably would have. Not him.

"But why here? Why now?" he demanded.

"Because of you. Of your daughter. You are of my blood," Daenerys said calmly, and those last words forced him to turn around and look at her as she continued. "Much like the red woman, the future speaks to me through the flames, although unlike her, I can make sense of what I see. And what I saw was that this day, this very moment, would be the downfall of my kin."

"It seems you misread the situation." His hands went over the badly trimmed beard that had grown on his chin, much to his dismay. "My daughter understood that something had to be done, even if her frail heart was lost along the last steps. She volunteered, and she understands. There is power in the blood of kings."

She looked up at him, her lilac eyes displaying the strangest mix of emotions he had seen in a very long time.

"I will not argue with you on that. Blood is power, it is true… which is why I came. I cannot let you walk down that path, Stannis of the House Baratheon. You are kin to me, and I have so little kinsmen left in this world."

"Few," he muttered under his breath.

She pretended she had not heard, but in truth, Daenerys rejoiced to see the true Stannis had not frozen to death yet. Perhaps there was still a chance, and if there was, she would grab it right now.

"Allow me to be plain, then: had I not come, you would have burned your daughter to death. The future of House Baratheon given over to the flames, and all for naught. Yes, you would have made it to Winterfell, but your shivering army is no match for walls and well-fed Northmen. You would not have won, even with that sacrifice. If you went down that path, you would be dead in less than a fortnight, lying under a tree in the snows outside Winterfell, with a sword to your gut – and you would even embrace that death as mercy."

Stannis sneered at her words, but said nothing. He found no words to say to such ridiculous claims. Preposterous! Or were they? Were her words truly that implausible?

"How convenient then that just now, the Dragon Queen from Meereen comes to set me on the right path," he thought out loud, hoping to provoke her into dropping her mask.

Instead, she simply raised an eyebrow. "Ah, Meereen. I had wondered why you so naturally greeted me as Queen, but now I understand. You were referring to Dragon's Bay."

"You are no queen of any other land," he firmly insisted.

There came her smile again, that soft, strange, dangerous smile. "Just as you are no king?"

"I am," he began, but was cut short when she abruptly rose from her chair.

"King, you would say? Why? Not by right of birth, certainly, for you were nowhere near the succession the day you were born, nor would your parents have ever claimed such a thing. They knew their place, did they not? Are you king by right of conquest, then, as your usurping brother claimed he was? But then again, you have never managed to conquer the throne, nor anything else, truly, have you? Or are you king above me because you are a man? I think not, for your brother certainly was, and I heard his cock brought the realm more trouble than even his drinking habits, and they accounted for quite a lot of problems, I hear. Are you king by popular acclaim, perhaps, as it was done in the Great Council of Old King Jaehaerys' reign? But no, no such gathering has ever taken place again, and it is plain to see that most lords of Westeros have chosen to back someone else's claim. Or perhaps you lay claim to the Iron Throne by right of blood, because of that Targaryen ancestor you have? But is it dragon's blood that runs through your veins, I wonder? Can you command a dragon?"

Stannis stood still as her words became ever more enraged, and he could not help but feel a little awe at the apparent anger he had induced in her. A reaction at least, and one that was just as revealing as he had hoped. But also a reaction that got him thinking, and understanding.

"Your entrance proves that you can," he stated dryly. "And you come here expecting me to kneel in front of you for that reason alone. Because of that dragon of yours."

"No," she said, and her eyes darkened. "I expect you to give up your claims and follow me because there is no other way. Do not be tempted to assume that I seek my throne out of vanity. If I could return my crown and duties and be given back the family I have lost, if I could have the peaceful and innocent life that was snatched from me before I was even born, I would take it. My mother deserved none of the pain she was put through, and even my brothers could have been saved, of that I am sure. Would that we had been given a chance at a different life! You might not believe it, but I speak the truth. I would leave all of this behind if I could. But I cannot. We both know what happens if I leave."

She pointed towards the tent's entrance.

"If I go through there, if I get on my dragon and leave Westeros to its own affairs, doom will come upon the world. The Others are creatures without mercy or remorse, they cannot be bargained with, and they cannot be stopped save with fire and magic. My dragons are fire made flesh, my blood is singing with magic, and only with fire and blood will any of us have any chance of survival. That is why I must be queen. It can only be me," Daenerys said empathically. She seemed ready to pull her sword and attack the enemy, but then, suddenly, her face calmed down again. "But I cannot do it alone."

He frowned at her. What was she up to now?

"I have heard stories about you, Stannis Baratheon, as you have undoubtedly heard stories about me. Many of those must have been exaggerated or unflattering, as surely those about you were as well. Mayhaps it is also curiosity that drove me here, then. You are one of the very few relatives I have left, and I have heard so much yet know so little. But what I know is that you are a man worth meeting. Stannis Baratheon! You fought for your brother against mine, held out loyally with a growling belly when your family home was besieged. You had a wailing little brother to care for, not even fully grown yourself, yet you persevered. And how were you rewarded? You were denied your birth right and sentenced to sulk on a rock of sulphur and ash, trying to control bannermen who still yearned for their former overlords."

"For your family," he agreed.

"Yes. A true Targaryen will always flourish on Dragonstone, but you are not, and never have been. You are a Baratheon of Storm's End, and that is where you belong. Your brother was a fool not to see it."

Now Stannis supressed a snicker, albeit a small one. "Had you heard more about me, dragonqueen, you would have known that flattery and pretty glances have never fooled me. Do not speak ill of my brother and hope to gain my trust."

She laughed shortly and shook her head. "Oh no, that is far from my intention, forgive me. I speak ill of your brother because I can. Or is he here to stop me? No. Because he was a mean creature controlled only by lust, who destroyed my family because he could not bear a woman refusing his advances. He took everything from us despite our kinship. And once he had everything, how did he put it to use? He all but ruined these beautiful lands with his misconduct, he bankrupted the crown, let people live in a cesspit of disease and starvation, and he even mistreated his hateful bitch of a wife so much that she cuckolded him with her own brother and had him killed in the end. This death plunged the entire continent into even more turmoil, making it ripe for the plucking to the Others. I see no reason not to speak ill of such a man."

He opened his mouth to disagree, but on second thought found no point where she had been mistaken. Instead, he decided to move forward with the conversation.

"I am not my brother."

"And neither am I," Daenerys insisted. "Our great and mighty brothers, famed and fabled! They fought on the banks of the Trident, and both of them died there. My brother did in truth, but yours did in spirit. What was left of him was no more than a shell, whoring and drinking to dull the pain. Our brothers, so famous, so great, but also so very dead. Yet, their ghosts have haunted us for all our lives. Let us not repeat their mistakes. From the day the Iron Throne was forged, Targaryen and Baratheon have stood side by side, as things should be. Our brothers wronged each other, wronged us and many more… but we are not them. Let this be the end of enmity."

"Peace. A welcome thought," Stannis sighed. "And all you ask in return is my crown."

"A crown you never truly wanted, did you? The day you picked it up, you did so because there was no one else left. Not Cersei's bastards, not your foolish brother Renly, not Robb Stark or Balon Greyjoy… none of them were fit to rule. None of them cared for anything else but themselves. The realm needs leaders, not petty children who consider it their plaything. You understood that, they didn't. Your wife thinks it was her words that made you take the mantle of kingship, the red woman believes it was her prophecy, and perhaps you have begun to believe it yourself… for a while. But look me in the eye, man of my blood, and tell me I am as wrong as them if I say the true reason for you picking up that crown was another. It was duty."

To that, he could not answer. Her lilac eyes shone brightly as she stared at him, and it seemed to Stannis they were looking right at his soul, if such a thing even existed. At the very least, they saw truer than anyone had in a long time… perhaps ever. And that strange sensation rendered him utterly speechless.

"So no, I do not ask for your crown. I merely hope you understand your duty now as well as you did then. I trust in your judgement, Stannis Baratheon, because I am no tyrant, and I have no need of sycophants. Join me of your own free will or leave it be. I have told you of the path you will walk down if you continue towards Winterfell. None of that is my doing. It is all yours. As is the choice."

He watched in exasperation as she turned to leave the tent.

"Come with me as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands to change these lands for the better or die under a tree as King of the Seven Kingdoms. It is a fair choice. Few people these days have received one such."

Then she stepped out into the freezing air, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She had said what she had meant to say for a long time. And if she truly was to be no tyrant, she had to put faith in him now. He was not the first, and he would not be the last to be offered a choice. It was all she could do.

Daenerys looked around the camp, looked into many blank faces, including the one of Stannis' wife staring back at her. She sat by a brazier and seemed lost in thought. Most likely, she was torn between anger that her sacred ritual had been interrupted and anger at herself for having allowed her daughter to be burned. Yet, the Mother of Dragons couldn't care less about such petty, self-absorbed thoughts. Instead, she gave into her own musings, thinking ahead to what would come next, and all the great steps she still had to take to ensure the world had a chance at survival.

Much to her delight, it was Stannis' voice that pulled her from these thoughts as he appeared in the doorway next to her.

"What do you plan on doing?" he asked plainly.

"Restore your men's health with bread and fruit and dry meat. Then we will march back to Castle Black. You are in no state to attack Winterfell, and I have urgent business with the Night's Watch. Once that issue is resolved, and you are back to strength, we will continue as planned. We will free the North and then head on to give Cersei Lannister her long-deserved comeuppance. And then, if there are any gods, by any chance we will still have enough time to prepare the kingdoms for the true war that will come," she explained without hesitation. "That is the way things must go. There is no other."

Stannis made no sound to that, but simply allowed his gaze to wander through his ranks much like hers did.

"Once your men arrive with supplies, I will know you true, and I will accede to your plan. But if you wish to be a queen in Westeros, you must prove that you are deserving of a crown," he said calmly. "Take Winterfell, rid the North of the Bolton stain, and forge a true alliance fit to tear the Lannisters from their high hill, and you shall have the crown you ask for."

She did not turn her face to him, but smiled from the corner of her eyes.

"I did not ask you for a crown, cousin Stannis. I ask for your help, your counsel, your support… your loyalty. As Orys was to Aegon, as things ought to be."

"That I cannot promise. But you have given me bread and salt. It would appear you have my trust for now, Your Grace." He did not smile at her either, but his voice sounded more at ease than it had in a very long time. "Now, your men, when can we expect them?"

"A day or two, at most."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "It beggars belief to think a Dothraki horde would make it through unknown, frosty land with such precision."

"Then you have not heard all there is about me," she replied grinning. "I am not only a khaleesi, and my army consists of more than just Dothraki riders. I have hardened, stern, unwavering men following me, of the kind that you would quite like, I assume. And I have a man to lead them here who is quite familiar with ships and Westeros itself. I have no doubt whatsoever that we will see him here before the sun has set twice."

Stannis raised an eyebrow, for her words reminded him of Ser Davos. "A trustworthy man, then? They are hard to come by."

"That much is true, and it seems I need to apologize to you in advance. It is quite likely you will recognize the man, for you were well acquainted in the past… and to some, it might appear as if I stole his allegiance from you."

That surprised even him. Who could she possibly be speaking of?

AN: Aaaand we're done for today. Hope you'll stick around to see the next flashback chapter, giving you some hints as to whom Daenerys is talking about here. Any guesses? Next chapter will be there on Wednesday!