Night set in unnoticed by the occupants of the small house in the clearing. Their visitors had left after supper, Embar had been fed and settled for the night, and Rose nodded off the sleep soon after. For the first time, she stayed up all day without taking a nap and it had been an exhausting experience.
But something changed over the course of the day and Rose, having not gone to sleep, was able to witness it when her mother and Nerell came back from visiting the dragons.
Speech.
As soon as Willa asked how the walk to see the dragons had gone, Nerell was unable to stop talking. It had been a fairly short visit, and yet he went on for the rest of the day about dragons. What they looked like, how they flew, how big they were, how you needed to build trust with them, how one felt when you stroked over its nose with your hand.
It rubbed off on Enda as well, and she listened to her brother with rapt attention, making remarks of "wow!" and "you're really lucky" at the appropriate times to fuel Nerell's ongoing monologue. The crowning moment came when Dany, after making the two promise not to tell anyone else about what they were about to see, showed them the dragon egg from the mantle.
"It's Drogon and Saphira's third egg," she explained, showing it to all three children, "But it didn't hatch with the other two. I've been trying to hatch it ever since, but so far it's only been glowing."
Both Nerell and Enda carefully pressed their palms to it, although neither showed any sign that they could feel the presence of life the way Dany knew she could. Rose was less interested than Nerell and Enda, but pointed to the egg to mimic the older children and very much enjoyed the attention when they began to try and teach her the word "egg" (so far, the toddler could say "eh!" at very loud volumes) up until Willa announced that it was getting late and the children should say their goodbyes. She looked happier than she had since the day on the beach, much more at ease as she heard sentences instead of single words from her two charges.
"Unless you want us to stay until Jon gets home?" Willa checked with Dany.
Dany shook her head. Like Rose, she too was exhausted from the day. The buoyant elation from the time spent with Nerell and Enda had turned to heavy lead and she wanted nothing more than to lie down.
Therefore, after putting Rose to bed and seeing Willa and the children out, Dany changed into her nightshirt and fell asleep nearly as soon as she laid down on the bed. She barely had time to consider how late it was becoming and that Jon was still not home before she drifted off into a dreamless slumber as the sky outside darkened.
She was drawn out of her sleep not an hour later. Or perhaps it was seven. The passage of time had quit existing, just like her thoughts. At first, the only sign she was awake was the sudden knowledge that she had hiked up her shirt getting comfortable. She was on her back. The furs tickled her bare skin. Then she felt a warm, calloused hand trail carelessly between the furs and her skin, over her stomach.
Then, a kick.
Stronger than what she had felt earlier in the day and the day before. The hand paused, pressing gently so as not to harm the bruises but still be firm. She heard Jon's quiet, "Hm," as he resumed feeling along the swell of their child. It stirred the wisps of hair by her ear, making her skin tingle with the realization of how close he was.
Dany kept her eyes closed, relishing in the feel of his hand over her, comforting and secure. She could have laid there, silent, for hours as Jon mapped over her in search of a sign that the baby was inside her.
Another kick.
He stopped his hand again, this time with a small jolt. How long has he been trying to feel this? Dany wondered, both amused and endeared. He sighed, a tone of dissatisfaction coating the long breath, and began to continue along.
"You weren't imagining it," Dany murmured, opening her eyes and turning to look at his face only a breath away.
Jon gave one note of a chuckle, catching her gaze and pausing his hand again. "How long have you been awake?"
"Only for the last two kicks. That feels nice."
He started up again, beginning to roam more deliberately for Dany's benefit rather than his own satisfaction. "When did you get in?" Dany asked, eyes closing again as she relaxed into the rhythm of Jon's hand once more.
"Maybe a couple hours ago," Jon replied, "Caught some hares and I prepared them for some dried meat. Came to bed after, thought I felt the baby when I kissed you goodnight and I've been here ever since." He drew his arm around her waist and tugged her closer against his body before languidly rounding over her stomach again. "I forgot how much I missed this."
"Hmm," Dany said, smiling, "Has it been active in there?"
"I think I've felt a few," Jon told her, "But I could've imagined it. Although you said you felt them too. With Rose I didn't really try to feel her kicking before they were obvious. But this time I really want to feel her!"
"Her?"
"Dany, it's another girl. I know it already."
"How could you possibly know that already?"
Jon would have been regarding her very seriously if his eyes hadn't been glimmering with mirth in the dim light of the fire. "Because I just know it," he said jovially, "Every time I've ever imagined our whole future family, there's always been three girls. And that's what's going to happen."
"Because your imagination says that's what happens, it will happen?" Dany repeated sarcastically.
Turning up his chin dramatically, Jon said, "You can make fun of it all you want, but when you get pregnant again and we have a third daughter, we'll see who's laughing."
"What if we don't have a second daughter?"
Jon brought his chin back down so that he could narrow his gray eyes at his wife.
Shaking her head, Dany snorted a laugh. "Fine, mahrazhkem, I'll make you a wager. Choose what you want if we have three daughters. But, if this baby is a boy - or the next one - you have to tell Tormund and Willa the story about hunter in the Vale who thought you were a direwolf."
Jon groaned.
"It's a wager," Dany chastised, "You can't complain."
"All right, fair. But if I'm right, no matter how far away that is, you have to tell them the story about when you first learned what a tree well was."
It was Dany's turn to narrow her eyes, knowing immediately what he meant, and Jon let out a barking chuckle. "It barely reached your ankles."
"I was upside down!"
"And it reached your ankles," he snorted.
"Shut up and rub the baby, Jon," Dany mock-snapped, trying to avoid smirking with him.
Jon did as he was told, still grinning as he started caressing over her again. "I love you, my Southern girl," he teased.
"And I love you, my rare black direwolf."
"Have you decided on what you're going to say during this meeting?"
Dany shrugged in response to Jon's question. They were walking along the path to Shadowedge, Ghost pulling Rose in her sled just ahead of Dany and Jon. Rose was alternating between shouting "Goats!" (she had renamed Ghost once again) and "Whee!" as they went.
"A bit," she replied, "I'd like to hear from everyone else first."
Jon didn't respond, and Dany expected that her comment had shut down any conversation he'd had in mind.
Truthfully, she had a fairly extensive plan in her mind for how to handle the Essosi returning to their shores. But, being extensive, it was very ambitious and she feared that as much as Tormund had referred to her as a member of this clan and village, her plan would feel out of touch to everyone else.
It was strange to think tactically again. To be thrust back into the role of a leader. To know that people were expecting her to help them move forward against an opposing force.
But, she told herself, it was different this time.
This time she wasn't conquering or destroying, but maintaining and keeping free. And Daenerys Targaryen would have never suggested the plan that Dany had come up with.
She had decided not to ask Jon, nor anyone else, for help initially. Not out of disdain or feeling that they weren't up to the task, but purely to prove to herself that she could still do this. Now, once she explained her ideas to everyone else, she was relying on their help. This was, as she had said to Tormund, a decision for the whole clan. And perhaps for the whole of the North as well.
These thoughts did little to calm Dany's nerves, which had been quivering on edge since she woke up. What if I can't do this anymore?
What if I never really had?
What if Daenerys Targaryen would have never suggested this plan because it really wasn't a good one? Because her advisors wouldn't have agreed, her enemies would have laughed, and the world she had been trying to build would have turned to ash.
It still did, or would have...in the end.
Most of the villagers were already gathered around the central fire when the little family showed up from the western woods. Scanning the crowd quickly, Dany noticed that none of the younger children were present, not even Nerell and Enda.
"Rather grim," Jon remarked so that only Dany could hear as they approached.
"It's the first death since Winterfell," Dany replied, equally as quiet, "And it was Dorand." She choked on the last word.
She heard Jon grunt in agreement. A few of the villagers nodded as they joined the group, Jon lifting Rose out of the sled and into his arms. The rest, though they looked over, remained apprehensive and stony-faced. Their eyes seemed hard with blame. Shaking off the intrusive thought, Dany looked over to Tormund, catching his eye and motioning for him to start. Tormund organized the meeting. It was fitting for him to speak first.
"Hmph," he cleared his throat, pausing for the crowd to settle. "I know that this was supposed to be a good occasion for us to get together. The elk hunt was successful and we would have shared that bounty with everyone and celebrated our new clansmen and women," he said, gesturing to the three villagers who had come of age this year, "But instead we're here because while we hunted, our village was attacked. Some of us older folk remember the slaver attacks before the dead began to rise. And now it's happened once more.
"We all know what happened to Dorand. And we all know that we owe it to him that none of our children were taken, that we still have a healer who's been able to mend these wounds. But we also know that we owe it to others that everyone was saved."
Tormund looked around, pausing to allow his speech to sink in. Dany could tell that the dragons were not new news to any of the people of Shadowedge, but she could also see that the information did not sit kindly with everyone. Several people looked distinctly uncomfortable. Willa's mouth was a thin line of disapproval as she scanned around the faces that looked down at their feet, off into the distance, or frowned at their hands. They mistrust dragons as much as other Westerosi. Dany couldn't help but, again, feel that she was to blame. Had they ever seen the docile side of Drogon, or any other dragon? The most experience her people had with dragons was the glimpses of them as a sign of her power or as a weapon against (or for) the Night King. Something to fear. Of which to be wary.
"We think," Tormund explained, glancing at Dany again, "That the slavers will come back. Others too. Not because they were unable to make off with anything. But because they know what lives in our woods and they-"
"Let 'em have 'em," interjected Inniq, a hotheaded man about Dany's age who was best known for the disfiguring scars down his face from wrestling a shadowcat trying to make off with the fowl he snared. He won. "If the foreign cunts wanna come back, let 'em have the dragons. Gets 'em off our backs and they can go catch people som'ere else."
Most people still were frowning, but a few seemed to agree with Inniq's suggestion. They were nodding their heads in his direction, looking thoughtful.
"That's ridiculous," Birger countered, "Taking dragons is no better than taking our children! And they have their own as well. You'd let them break up another family?"
"These dragons saved our children," a woman added above the hum of agreements and dissents from other people, "they are the guests of Shadowedge and have done us a service."
"They're not human, Kolla. Last I heard, guest right isn't for dragons."
Dany's voice escaped before she had time to think about how to begin speaking. "It doesn't matter if they're guests or not. They can't be taken away from here," she said, "And what makes you think they'll leave us alone just because we don't impede their poaching?"
Murmurs of agreement rose again.
She fixed Inniq with a fierce glare, which he returned, amber eyes intense enough that she felt Jon go to take a step forward beside her. Close enough to make a subtle movement, Dany gripped his hand, holding him in place behind her.
"And who's to say that they minute they come ashore, you wouldn't turn on us?" Inniq spat harshly.
Suddenly, Dany was intensely reminded of every time someone expected less of her during her quest to become Queen. Viserys thought she was weak. The Dothraki refused to become her khalasar. Xaro tried to charm her to hide his intentions. The Yunkish did the same. Kraznys insulted her in her own mother tongue, thinking she was a foreign whore. Even Ser Barristan and Jorah doubted her decisions.
And when she got to Westeros, she was treated as a foreigner. Used like a pawn in someone else's war, thanklessly sacrificing everything she had worked for and then realizing it no longer meant anything. Then leaving everything behind to come to the only place she had ever called home with the only person she truly loved. She had never stayed in one place for so long, and she never planned to leave.
And this is where her decisions had left her? With the implication that she was more closely connected to these monsters than her own people? Is that how people thought of her now? Seven Hells, Dorand had died for her! And Inniq thought she would turn on them?
Anger seethed inside her. At Inniq, at the slavers, at herself.
I'm not running.
"You're right," Dany replied gently, a well practiced smile playing across her lips, "I don't want to fight them."
Inniq smirked.
"I want to end them." Her voice changed, gentleness gone and darkness seeping in, "Their conquest. Their purpose. Their reason for living. I want them out of my home. Away from my family. My dragons. And my people. And like it or not, you're one of those people."
Dany spread her arms, gesturing around to the houses, people, snow, and fire. "And this," she said, "is my home. You accepted me as one of you when no one else would. When there was nowhere left in the world for me to turn to. You taught me how to live here and how to thrive here. I'm not leaving you. Nor are the ice dragons. They were here long before me - long before any of us, if the legends are right - living and thriving. They're a part of our home. We have to protect them. And ourselves. We have to keep our home safe."
"How?" Willa called out in prompt. She winked at Dany encouragingly.
Nodding, Dany took a breath, readying herself to explain this plan. "I said that you all taught me, a woman from the South - the very South - how to live here," she said in practiced storyteller introduction, "Well, what would have happened if I hadn't had a teacher?"