We'll be seeing some time jumps in the next few chapters as our pair journeys further north.
A month of traveling amongst the mountainous, rocky terrain of The Vale had left Dany surefooted, but longingly thinking of wide-open places where their view of the horizon did not get blocked by a peak every time they tried to scan ahead. Jon said that the inhabitants of the Vale claimed it was the most beautiful place in all of Westeros, but Dany thought it was simply overwhelming to see dizzying, impassable peaks and deep, unreachable valleys along every footpath.
Having agreed that it was best to stay away from the main thoroughfares and most people, Jon and Dany had painstakingly picked their way through the mountains, around the castles and settlements of Valemen, mostly finding more caves to stay in along their travels for it was dangerous to sleep outside in the winter weather. Some caves had evidence of being inhabited by the nomadic mountain clans, but they had luckily not run into any of these less-than-friendly inhabitants.
Unable to avoid people entirely, however, they sometimes met other travelers across the Vale who were avoiding the roads for one reason or another. None offered up much about themselves, but Dany enjoyed the strange camaraderie that all seemed to feel for one another, regarding those they met as equals in the journeys they were on. Though guarded, they eagerly swapped news over a fire and often traded possessions with the merchants and travelers.
While the news swapped was mostly idle gossip, they had learned that siege had been laid to King's Landing by the Northern and Dornish forces (no word on the few remaining Dothraki or Unsullied), though neither side had moved to engage the other past that. Though many travelers in the past couple of weeks spoke of the siege, none knew who led it.
"But it ain't that Dragon Queen or that North King," their current companion said obliviously.
He tore into a bit of lean mountain rabbit that Jon had caught earlier. It was far past midday, but they tended to eat whenever they came upon a traveler instead of waiting until they had found shelter for the night. Contentedness, in travelers as in armies, was generally found over full bellies.
Both Jon and Dany feigned surprise at his remark, raising their eyebrows in sync, though Dany kept her eyes on her food.
"Yeh didn' 'ear 'bout that?" the traveler asked them.
"'Fraid not," Jon answered placidly in his thickest Northern brogue, "We've been traveling rough for some time."
"Mmph." The man agreed as he surveyed their appearance: a bit worse for the wear though they did bathe in the last cave they stayed in. And he's one to judge, Dany thought harshly. Their new acquaintance was particularly grubby and Dany was surprised that he didn't leave brown footprints in the snow as he walked.
He took another mouthful of rabbit and, chewing loudly, continued. "Well," he said portentously between chews, "Seems they've both gone an' disappeared. Right away from that dragon island! 'Eard their people was lookin' for 'em, but seems that they just up an' vanished in the middle o' the night - same night in fact. Lots sayin' they was kidnapped or summat like that, but no one ain't seen hide nor hair of 'em, even with all them soldiers out lookin'. An' no one claimed ter have done it either! My guess is they just ran off, don' want ter be found. 'S what I woulda done in that shithole. 'S why we're out here, eh? So we don' have ter deal wi' that."
The traveler had finished his rabbit by the end of his speech and belched loudly, patting his rather large stomach with a grubby hand. Dany waited for a cloud dust to flounce off of his clothes, but none came and he stood up to stretch his stout limbs.
"I thank you for the food," he said to Jon and Dany, "But I best be moving on. There's a cave 'bout an hour that way that I've used once before. Not many folk know it. Might be good fer yeh."
With a dip of his head to both of them, he lumbered off, singing to himself.
"Well," Jon said once the traveler's singing was out of earshot, "At least we have one vote of confidence."
Dany rolled her eyes at him as she stood up, wrapping the two rabbit skins from their meal into a bundle and placing them in the satchel Soraya had given her, planning to sew them together with some of the other skins they had collected.
The satchel had come in abundantly useful, as if Soraya had the gift of forethought. Aside from clean cloths and two pieces of flint for fire starting, the satchel had also contained two pungent pouches of spices, a crude needle and thread, a dozen pieces of multicolored cave quartz, and a bottle containing what Dany later figured out was brown dye. She had taken to wearing the single purple piece of quartz as a necklace, feeling closer to her friend from Crackclaw Point with it on.
Using the first spice (nutmeg), Jon had traded three merchants for warmer clothes, a cloak and gloves for Dany, and some more durable food for when foraging became difficult. Even in small quantities, nutmeg was extremely valuable in Westeros, and the merchants practically gave Jon their whole cache before snatching up a share of nutmeg and whisking off to Wickenden, where Jon said you could find terrifically spiced candles in the markets.
He kept the pouch for the spices, however, and Dany currently had it tied around her waist holding a small mountain clan knife she had found left in a cave and several bits of carved wood.
Though her hand had healed nicely after being cared for by Soraya, it occasionally ached and had taken to protesting after gripping something for too long. Jon said she was lucky her hand still worked, though, for he had seen men with one less hand or foot because it had been lost to the cold. As such, Dany had resolved herself to learn to use her left hand more and, in that resolve, was learning to make small wooden figurines from Jon, practicing carving with her left hand. She had finished one figurine - a bear - but it looked more like an angry potato with some semblance of a scowling snout (though Jon assured her it was a good first attempt, especially with a non-dominant hand).
"At least we know we're still not recognizable," Dany said as they began walking in the direction the traveler had pointed to the cave.
"Aye," Jon replied, "I think averting your eyes seems to do the trick."
Dany nodded, knowing both of them were remembering a close encounter they'd had with two traveling merchants a week before. While Jon looked like an average Northman, only truly recognizable to those who knew him, Dany was more blatant due to the widespread rumors about the last Targaryen that had persisted since before she even crossed the Narrow Sea. Though she had dyed her distinctive Valyrian silver hair to brown with Soraya's dye and did not speak in front of other people for she had not yet mastered hiding her highborn accent, the merchants commented several times on how exotic Dany's violet eyes were and she and Jon had hastened to leave them behind quickly, in the end trading nothing.
"Should be only a week or so more until we get to the crossing to The Three Sisters," Jon told her, breaking Dany out of her thoughts as he returned to talking of his favorite subject: geography. He also liked topography and demonstrated himself to be quite the cave spotter when they were on the lookout for shelter, but he could talk about geography for eons longer.
"We passed between Stonesong and Heart's Home already, so we'll just continue on straight north and then we'll find passage over to the islands. Though I still think we should stay well east of Oldcastle and White Harbor. Not sure if there are any other ports…"
Smiling, Dany led the way as Jon continued to talk of his plans. It's like having a thinking map, she mused, and one that continues to write itself. Jon often turned to talking of geography to pass the time as they walked. He loved to ask her to describe places in Essos over and over again, face marveling with wonder when as she described red deserts and sun-warmed plains as far as they eye could see.
"You should have been a bard," he once told her after she had described her travels in Qarth to him, "I could listen to your stories forever." The compliment had left Dany flushed with pride.
Jon was still continuing. "And after we pass by Long Lake, we'll just have to make our -"
"Jon," Dany said, interrupting his verbal mapping, "Do you think that's the cave?"
"Hmm?" He looked to where Dany was pointing. It was a small crack in the face of the rock, looking to be no more than a crack, but Dany had enough experience with caves at this point to make an educated guess that it was bigger on the inside.
Jon jogged forward towards the crack with a "wait here!" thrown behind his shoulder at Dany. He slipped into the crack and emerged only a few minutes later.
"Good eye," he said, beckoning her forward towards the cave entrance, "That old traveler was right. It's quite roomy if you don't give up with the narrow entrance, and I'd say you found it just in time." He glanced at the clouds over top the mountains in front of them, which were beginning to look dark and threatening.
Dany nodded and approached the entrance, turning sideways to begin sliding into the narrow fissure.
Drogon wasn't fast enough to fly away from the clawing hands of the Dead. They were like a swarm of locusts that never stopped, and had begun climb Drogon to reach Dany on his back.
"Traitor!" the Dead chanted at her, "Traitor! Traitor!"
Drogon's wings suddenly spread, and he took off from the plain in a shower of wights who had lost their grip. They were flying to freedom when a whistling sound pierced the sky and a Scorpion bolt flew through her beloved child's neck. With a chilling shriek, he plummeted to the ground, followed by Dany.
"Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!"
A glint of the silver of a blade in sunlight flashed in front of Dany's eyes and the voice of a friend now dead echoed in her ears with the final battlecry of, "Dracarys!" as woman and dragon hurtled towards the overrun plain and Death's grasp.
"Dany?"
"NO!" she screamed, bolting to sit upright and opening her eyes to a cave chamber bathed in soft firelight. Her breathing was labored and shallow and she felt sticky and cold in sweat. A hand reached out and touched her arm and she jumped, surprised that her ghost itself did not depart from her body.
"Hey," Jon said quietly, keeping his hand on arm, "It's just me. You're okay. It was just a nightmare."
Dany looked down at him and allowed herself to be pulled back to laying down against Jon's chest. Still shaken, she held a handful of his shirt's fabric, willing herself to be anchored to the room and away from the nightmare as her breathing began to slow down. Jon rubbed her back in slow circles.
"I broke my elbow when I was six," he said, starting up the familiar game they played every time nightmares plagued their sleep.
"Were you training?" Dany asked.
Jon shook his head and gave a short chuckle. "Nah," he told her, "Robb and I were pretending to be chickens and I squatted to lay an egg and fell over."
At that, they both laughed and Dany found herself flooding with calm as the nightmare's grip on her mind loosened.
"Your turn," Jon murmured.
"Hmm...okay. When I was little, I was convinced that Targaryens actually became dragons when they got older, that they didn't just ride them. I was so excited to become a dragon, I got a headstart on flight training, climbed out my bedroom window, and launched myself off the lemon tree, planning to make a graceful touchdown into the garden."
"Then what happened?"
"Let's just say there's a reason several of my toes aren't straight," she said as they laughed more. Dany smiled, remembering how Ser Darry had laughed at the explanation she gave him as she was getting fixed up in the kitchen that day. Her smile continued, relishing in learning a new anecdote about Jon.
Despite having thought they knew each other well, Jon and Dany had quickly realized in the past month that they had barely ever shared information past politics and war. And yet here they were now, talking of their childhoods and laughing together, free from the horrors that had surrounded them. Just together in a quiet cave.
She lifted up slightly to look at Jon, memories of the nightmare dissipating away as she gazed at his face, creased with soft smile lines from their laughter. It was the face of a man who she now felt was no longer an ally, but someone she was close to - someone she loved. Loved without obligation or political need. Loved simply because she did. I do love him, Dany thought, though she had not dared to voice her sentiments aloud. Not out of shame, but out of wanting to let things form naturally like the caves they had come across on their travels. Perhaps not over thousands of years, though.
As if sensing her change in thoughts, Jon's hand slowed at rubbing her back and she felt the pressure of it increase while she watched as his throat bobbed up and down in a hard swallow.
It was instinctual, like a raven traveling to its mark with a message, for Dany to lean forward towards Jon's face. Reciprocating, Jon lifted up and closed the distance between them.
Until next time.