Something was tickling her nose. Dany scrunched it up, not yet willing to pull her arm from the leaden position of slumber to knock whatever it was away.
"Mm," she grumbled.
The tickling stopped, and she moved her head to settle more comfortably into her warm cocoon. Then it happened again, only this time she felt the finger slide down the top of her nose.
"Mm, stop," she said again, turning her head away. Muffled laughter followed and, reluctantly, Dany opened her eyes to filtered dawn light and a smiling Jon in front of her.
She pouted, glaring at the man who had awoken her. "Wha'ryou doing?" she sighed. His finger was poised to stroke her nose again.
"Good morning to you as well," he replied, "And, nothing, really. You?"
"Deciding if I made a good choice in marrying my husband," Dany replied testily, stretching. She noticed, for the first time, that Jon was not actually in the bed with her, but off to the side. "Why aren't you in bed with me?"
"I tried to make your marital decision easier and I've made breakfast for you," he said, "But...if you don't want anything…"
"No, I do," Dany said hastily, her stomach had begun shouting about its need to feed the baby as soon as Jon said the word, "But - ah - first." She leaned over from the bedside and kissed him sweetly, threading a hand through his hair as she did.
Jon responded, the hand that had been stroking her nose traveling down under the furs over Dany's naked body until it reached her center. Instinctively, her hips canted toward him as a chill shivered up her spine and she sighed into his mouth, deepening their kiss.
Then, the hand withdrew, and a whisper played across Dany's lips. "Eat. First," he rasped, chastely kissing her once more before standing up to cross over to the fire.
Lightheaded from the sudden tease, Dany rolled onto her back first and smiled to herself. Just another day of loving Jon and a night she would not soon forget. My husband. When she said it before, it sounded so natural. Until Jon had mentioned it two days ago, she had never really thought about what she called him in her head. The villagers always called him "your man" when they didn't refer to him by name, but in her head she had only ever said "Jon." Or just, "he," and knew who she was referring to since it was her own thoughts.
But the new word for him had rolled off her tongue so deliciously and she immediately committed to saying it often.
"I know porridge is nothing special," her husband was saying by the fire as Dany swung out of the bed to stand up. As soon as she stood, her stomach changed its mind, declaring war, and she swayed with the wave of nausea, desperately trying to focus on what Jon was saying instead.
"Maybe when we pick up Rose we can just steal the rest of Willa's nutmeg. That would be tasty, wouldn't - on second thought, maybe we'll eat nothing. It's all right, Dany."
Jon left the porridge on the table and came to support her, a hand on her arm and around her waist as he helped her shakily sit back down on the bed.
"Are you okay?"
She didn't respond, still trying to fight the losing war against the sensation creeping into her mouth. She could just smell the breakfast Jon had made. Warm porridge, nearly flavorless, but anything edible would smell horrible right now.
"What do you need?" Jon asked from far away. Vaguely, she heard him move, but did not dare move her position to look as her mouth began to taste metallic. Please don't.
"Dany," Jon said, now alarmingly worried, "Dany, you're turning white."
Lost.
She bent over, becoming violently sick in the basin Jon had placed at her feet. Instantly, she felt his hands holding back her hair and rubbing slow circles on her back as she retched. Gasping for air, she heaved as her stomach made threats that Dany knew were not idle.
"It's okay," he said calmly, "Just let it out, Dany. You'll be okay."
After vomiting once more, she stayed bent over and heaving for a few moments after. Tears silently streamed down her face, mixing with the sudden sheen of sweat that had appeared. She felt cold and shaky, unable to take a breath that didn't shudder. Still, Jon rubbed her back, though he had stopped speaking.
Slowly, carefully, Dany raised back to sit up and not trigger her nausea again. Feebly, she grimaced at her husband. "Sorry," she muttered through her teeth, afraid to open her mouth.
"Do you want some water?" he asked. Dany nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.
The water was soothing, though she barely took more than the few sips needed to rid her mouth of the awful taste. Feeling it slink down her throat and into her traitorous body reinvigorated her nausea and she was afraid that any more water would send her back over for another meeting with the basin. She laid her head on Jon's chest, feeling more tired than when she had woken up.
"Gods, I hate this part," Jon said as he held her close, "I hate seeing you like this and not being able to do anything but hold your hair."
"It's not your fault," she sighed, muffled from his chest.
A note of sarcastic laugh came out of his mouth. "Dany, you do realize how having a baby works, right?" he asked.
Dany looked up, raising a tired hand to graze over his cheek. "You being here is enough," she said, "Holding my hair or not. You being my husband and our childrens' father is enough."
Regarding her for a moment, Jon kissed her hairline. "You're the strongest person I know," he told her, "And I'll always be here to hold your hair. Even after the fifteenth child."
"Don't get too carried away, mahrazhkem anni."
They took the morning slowly, allowing Dany to rest until she felt well enough to place one foot in front of the others. Briefly, she actually considered asking Jon to go into Shadowedge without her, but was determined to not let nausea win. Additionally, though Dany would scarcely admit it to herself, she was scared to be alone.
When she was pregnant with Rose, they were always walking and pushing on. And always together. In her entire early pregnancy, she never left Jon's side. He made her feel safe at her weakest, at a time when she knew that she could hardly do more than walk blindly onwards. The thought that Jon would have to leave at some point, to hunt or mend a roof or something that Dany wasn't involved in, played at a dark fear in her heart.
She tried to push it away with the rest of her ill feelings as they walked the path to Shadowedge. They held hands, partially because they wanted to and partially because Dany's steps were still entirely unsteady. I may have overdone it, she thought about the energy of yesterday and how exhausted she was currently feeling. Willa's feather bed was dancing through her thoughts as they walked, and Dany had a feeling they would not be leaving Shadowedge again until she took a comfortable nap.
Village activity was low for the day. Extraordinarily low, Dany thought as they walked through town towards Willa's home. Though she waved to a few of the children out playing (hide-and-seek, it seemed like), none of their parents, nor any other villagers or people passing through were around. She could hear them, however. A group of them with raised voices right near the central firepit.
"I have a feeling we're about to walk into something unpleasant," she murmured to Jon.
"Unfortunately, I'm thinking the same thing," he replied.
In the center of Shadowedge, a ragged group of villagers, traders, and the remaining ship party from the North.
"If these kneelers want to keep using our hospitality, they better start - "
"Quiet, Moregg!" Willa snapped, "What hospitality are you calling ours?"
Moregg the trader spread his arms wide, gesturing vaguely to the village. Willa, and several other villagers, snorted. "Since when did you become part of Shadowedge?" Willa snarled to general mumbles of agreement. Dany could see, as they slid towards the outlying onlookers towards the center, that her eyes sparked with an uncharacteristic fury.
"Since when did the weaklings who hid from the Dead start becoming chiefs?" Moregg spat, looking the healer up and down with contempt.
"Mind your tongue," Dorand warned. Already imposing with his height rivaling young trees, the free folk man looked dangerous. Dany had gotten the impression from the last time she had seen Moregg that the two did not get along - nor did Moregg seem to get along with anyone else.
As she and Jon tried to reach the center of the gathering, a clearer picture of the argument started coming into view. Willa and Dorand seemed to be framing the fight, although Tyrion was close beside them looking both angry and observant, as if he was analyzing whether or not it was his place to speak.
Moregg stood alone on the other side, his greasy dark hair sticking out at angles and giving him a manic appearance. He shook a fist, pointing to the ground to punctuate his words as he spoke again and Dany could see the bit of spittle forming at his lips.
"I'll mind it once you tell this kneeling bitch to get out of my house or learn what kneeling means here!" he threatened and, for the first time, Dany saw the auburn hair of the person he was pointing to. Sansa? The woman looked far from the poised Lady of Winterfell that Dany knew. She was shaking on the ground, her face blotchy and her eyes averted from the argument taking place above her. Her hair and clothes were snowy and in disarray, as if she had been dragged several feet.
Before she could react, before anyone could react, Jon had left her side and lunged for Moregg, stopped only by Dorand restraining him. "What did you say?" he roared, surprising the others who had not noticed their arrival.
"Jon!" Dany said sharply at the same time Willa hissed, "He's not worth it."
Deciding not to insert herself into the argument, Dany instead leaned down next to Sansa, placing the softest touch on her shoulder. "Come on," she said quietly as Sansa shakily looked up at her, "Come with me. You don't need to be here anymore.
Nodding vaguely, Sansa took Dany's hand and allowed herself to be taken through the group and away from raised voices that now included Jon. Dany took Sansa only a few homes away to Willa's house and led her inside.
Her friend's home was warm and perfumed as usual, and Dany prayed that none of the smells would set off her still-present nausea. It was apparent that her attention needed to be focused on something other than sickness right now.
"Dany! Sansa! Is everything okay?" a young voice exclaimed when they entered the house. Enda sat with Rose on the floor, looking extremely apprehensive as the two women entered.
Sansa, who had not said anything yet, walked wight-like to sit down next to Enda and Rose, faintly smiling as Rose grinned at her and offered up the toy she was playing with. Sansa took the toy, making Rose giggle as she shook it from side to side and made the beads rattle. Her shaking was subsiding, though she still looked to be in shock.
"What happened, Enda?" Dany asked immediately, coming to sit as well, "Why are you here with Rose?"
The girl's eyes were wide as she began to explain. "I came to see Willa for some help and she was explaining about the herbs she was using and then we - we heard someone scream outside," she looked surreptitiously to Sansa, "And then a man's voice. Really angry. And Willa said to stay here and mind Rose and left. I've been hearing the shouting ever since."
"It was me," Sansa said quietly, not looking up from playing with Rose though her eyes stopped focusing on what was in front of her, "I screamed. At that trader who was yelling. He - he came into the house I was in and dragged me out. He said it was his, but I'd been staying there. He...he said..."
Trailing off, Sansa shook her head and focused again on Rose and their game. Dany could imagine what someone like Moregg had said to her, given what she had heard outside. I would have screamed too. "Enda," she suggested, "Why don't you go check on the other children and make sure they're all accounted for?"
If there was any protest or worry, Enda did not show it. She nodded once, looking at Sansa wide-eyed once more, before getting up and leaving Willa's house.
"I made a complete fool of myself," Sansa said once Willa's door had closed again.
"You didn't - "
"Yes, I did! What type of leader will my people view me as if a man barging into the place I'm staying turns me into a screaming mess?" Sansa agonized, "They've already watched me fail at keeping my people safe, be left here because nobody believed I could cross from here to Winterfell after the storm. And now they've seen me weak and cowering, unable to even speak."
Her blue eyes flicked bitterly towards the door before returning to look at the silver-haired woman who could not help but feel mildly responsible for Sansa's current demeanour, given her declarations of failure. Therefore, Dany's surprise was instantly etched across her face at Sansa's next question. "How did you do it?" Sansa blurted out, "I - I know you said you wouldn't help me, but how did you go from nothing to what you are? You ended slavery in Slavers' Bay, you united the Dothraki, became the Queen of Mereen. You would have never reacted like I did back there - the first time I ever saw you show even a hint of being anything but unwavering was two days ago! I don't think anyone in their right mind would say I'm unwavering."
"Is that why you haven't taken the title of Queen yet?" Dany asked.
Sansa nodded. "Arya says it's a terrible idea. That I'm already in the role so I should have the title since Bran won't take it and Jon, well, you know what we thought. But you saw me back there. You know why we had to come here. How can I call myself a Queen when I make these mistakes? When I'm unable to defend my people or myself? I was ready to turn to someone that I drove away for help because I couldn't succeed."
"Sansa," Dany said gently, "You can't deny yourself or your people leadership because you feel you've made mistakes or because a piece of scum like Moregg threatened you. There has only been once in my life that someone ever threatened me like Moregg did to you, and it was my brother. And I hit him with a belt. I don't know if I would have reacted any different from you if someone like Moregg came into where I slept. But I do know that you should not model your future leadership after mine. My life, my time as a leader, was ruled by my family's words: Fire and Blood. Perhaps with the ideals of making a better world, but in the end, did I really?
"You don't call yourself a Queen, or even a leader, because of your achievements or your birthright. You call yourself a Queen because people want you to be one. Haven't the stories of history taught us that? Your people trust in you to help them. They viewed you as important enough not to risk in the aftermath of a storm that, frankly, very few free folk would have wanted to go out in. And they rushed to your defense when someone threatened you - nobody would have expected you to react any differently than you did. They believe you're their Queen, even if you don't believe it just yet."
"Why did you leave, then?" Sansa asked curiously, "You had people who believed that you were their Queen."
"Because I didn't want to be ruled by fire and blood," she replied, looking at Rose, "When Jon convinced me to leave...everything was thrown into such a harsh perspective. People said they believed I was their Queen because they feared me. Knew what I was capable of. And I was scared of what I had become...what I could still become if given the chance. I wanted to be loved. Jon showed me that love when I thought it was all gone, and I just couldn't turn away from it again. It wasn't worth it."
Rose glanced up at Dany with her big violet eyes, the only part of her not to favor Jon so heavily. "Ah?" she said happily when she saw her mother.
Reaching her hand over Rose's head, she gently smoothed the brown curls that Willa had undoubtedly gotten to yesterday. They were brushed and beaded with tiny braids. "Yes, I love you too, Rosie," Dany cooed briefly before continuing, "I'm better being here. Better not trying to lead people into war or into a new dynasty. I'm a better Dany than a Daenerys Targaryen.
"But you care about your people, Sansa, as much as they care about you. Even after everything between you and I, you came here for your people. And you're sitting here, asking someone whose leadership you openly contested how you can do better. Arya is right."
Before either woman could say any more, the door opened and Willa, Jon, and Tyrion trailed inside. All three still looked considerably flustered, though more settled than when Dany and Sansa had left. Immediately, Jon came over to where she and Sansa were seated on the floor.
"Are you all right?" he asked Sansa.
The redhead nodded. "Thank you, Jon," she said, "For coming in like that. It...really shook me up."
"He won't be lurking around anymore, Sansa," Willa said from beside the fire, "Said if he ever showed that ugly face in Shadowedge again, we'd pitch him off the cliff. Nobody needs filth like that around."
"You're sure you aren't hurt?" Tyrion asked.
"No," Sansa said, "Just shaken. But, I'm better now. Thanks to...to Dany."
Dany looked up, surprised at hearing her name come from Sansa's mouth. She felt Jon's hands grasp her shoulder from behind, knowing immediately that he was equally as stunned. Perhaps all the earth had not been scorched between them. The hesitant smile Sansa gave her seemed to confirm the thought, and Dany returned it.
Before she could respond, however, a steaming cup floated down in front of her face courtesy of a brown hand. "And you can be okay thanks to me," Willa said to Dany, shoving the cup into her hands, "Drink it. Because if I ever hear that you turned white again and didn't tell me the minute I walked through this door, I'll chuck you off the cliff too."
When I wrote this, my biggest question was: What happens when you look at yourself and realize that you don't think anybody believes you're good enough and neither do you? Because that's how Sansa is feeling. It would be pretty jarring to have your, for all intents and purposes, former rival say, "Yeah, you are good enough."
The red wanderer is still in Moonmaid. Good time to steal a wife, don't you think?