Hello again with another chapter - sooner this time! Thank you so much to:

DarylDixon'sLover

Jana

Kate

TheAttemptedWriter

Lillian81

Irakli Chargazia

tonywarrior

Perseus Apollyon

MiaMia

MayaFaya

Your reviews inspired me to write this quickly and get it out for you as soon as possible! I'm sorry if this chapter is a little shorter than others, but that's mainly because a lot of stuff happens in the next chapter so I decided to make this a more...multi-varied chapter. This is something a lot of people have requested for a long time and now we can finally get into it, so I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Sansa

It had been nearly seven years since she had last seen him.

Sansa Stark hadn't known that when Jon would go South to meet with that dragon whore, he would fall in love with her. Originally, she had been nothing but concerned for his well-being. Jon had never been the one to go that far south. His home had always been in the North. And yet when he proposed the idea of mining dragonglass from the caves on Dragonstone, she had gone along with it.

Stupidly.

And then, of course, he just had to come back and fall in love with her. Sansa had heard the stories of the queen back then, how her beauty had enchanted far and few to do exactly to her whim. Sansa had thought that Jon was better than that. That he could at least somehow resist. And yet there he was, pounding himself into her cunt like the fool he was.

All men were fools.

Sansa sighs and glances outside the window of her chambers at her people, some freezing in the cold and others walking along the streets. She knew that the North was in dire need, but she didn't want to give in to the outside world yet. She wanted to think she could do this on her own – and she had been, for some time.

Jon had never had to deal with this. He had never come close to having to deal with the politics or the hunger or any problem besides the dead – but at least he had actively tried to fix that problem. What was she doing? Trying to slave away in a castle figuring out what the fuck she could do to somehow help these people.

Was she a good queen? She wanted to believe she was. But with how some of these people spoke about her behind her back, she didn't think she was anymore.

'Lion's whore,' some called her when thinking of her once-marriage to Tyrion. 'Ice bitch,' was another. 'Wolf fucker,' was a fair few, about how she had fucked over her family. She didn't know how to respond to any of them at this point. Maybe they were right. Maybe there was something the matter with her. But there was nothing she could say because she wasn't about to lock away people for saying names. All people said horrible things about their rulers sometimes.

…didn't they?

Sansa sighs and leans against her chair in her solar now, looking down at the papers below her. As she shifts through the parchments, trying to find the newest issue that some foreign person had with her castle or reign or whatever, she saw a hidden piece of paper edged deep within the frames of the desk, something she had clearly tried to throw out a long time ago.

She gently picks it up into her fingers, trying not to rip it any more than it already was, and sees the disposed location of the basilisk venom that Bran had shown her. Sansa bites her lip and leans back in her chair, letting out a low sigh.

She had some…regrets about what she did that day.

Don't get her wrong. She would forever hate the dragon cunt, no matter if she was truly alive or not and Bran was messing with her. She had deserved to die the moment she didn't even listen to what she nor the North wanted. She showed no mercy for anyone and that just proved she was going to end up like her father, once and for all…Bran had seen it in his visions, hadn't he? That only meant that it was true.

All of his bloody stupid vision came true. But what she did to Jon was…what she didn't want.

At first, she had been on board. Although she had told Tyrion that Jon should be king, after some time, she did realize that him taking the throne would be nearly impossible. He was an emotional man who was passionate about what he believed in, but he was also a Targaryen, a scary fear. Something many people were afraid to believe in.

And having him kill Daenerys at the time was the best course of action. Who better to get closer to that snake than the person who laid with her? It was the perfect plan. But when she and Bran had sat down to discuss this plan, she had never wanted to send him to the Wall. In fact, she had wanted the opposite.

She had wanted to take him back. To have him be hailed as a hero in the North because that's what he would have been, not to live with those bloody wildlings beyond the wall. They had helped them survive, that was for sure, but Sansa didn't understand how they could live out in the freezing cold for so long with barely any warmth. It was almost inhumane. Either way, she hadn't wanted him to live like that. She wanted him home. Regardless of what his parentage was, she had wanted him here.

But Bran had none of that. In his own monotone way, he had explained that no one would allow him to come home. The Unsullied would demand his head, or the Dothraki would murder him the moment he stepped out of the city. He had nowhere to go safely, and the only reliable option was the Wall. So, for the sake of Jon staying alive, she had agreed.

Did she feel bad about manipulating him? To an extent, but it was what was needed. He had needed to see that Daenerys was mad – basilisk venom or not – and once he had, that was all the push he needed, besides Tyrion telling him to do so. But now, she was wondering about her brother. And especially about her sister.

She had tried to stay in contact with him, sent him ravens beyond the wall, but she had never heard back, not once. And now, only a little while ago did she finally hear from Bran, that Daenerys fucking Targaryen was alive. And Jon was with her.

With children.

What had shocked her even more was when Bran had revealed to her how long she had been alive at that point, practically ever since Jon had killed her. And while she had been upset at Bran for keeping this little tidbit of information from her for so long, a part of her wasn't surprised.

I mean, of course the dragon cunt wasn't dead. Jon had been brought back so why couldn't some cult-following red priests do the same to her? Because why would she remain dead when she gave Sansa's life so much joy?

Even so, she hadn't been scared. Concerned, maybe, because the Targaryen could find out what they did, but there was no way she would ever return to Westeros after what they did. But what had shocked her more than the dragon queen being alive was that Bran had said she had a child. A son. One that was most definitely Jon's, and had been brought back when she had been brought back.

A part of Sansa felt bad for the boy. He had Stark blood in him, but he would forever be haunted by that Targaryen name. Even so, she couldn't bring it in her heart to even think of the boy as family. Not with Daenerys as his mother.

But even after that, even finding out about that, nothing had floored her more than finding out from Bran, due to his powers, that now Jon was with her. With another fucking child.

A girl, this time. One that apparently looked exactly like Daenerys, one that filled Sansa with so much hatred that she had locked herself away from her advisors for a day and sat with it, let it linger. A little girl that would grow up to be exactly like her mother. A little girl that would end up being a murderer.

But what could she do? Tell Bran to try and kill them. Kill her, kill the children, anything. Which he had agreed to. And then no one had come back from that trip. Bran had sent men off to go and kill Daenerys, and then no one returned. Which only meant one thing.

Jon was staying by Daenerys' side. For real, this time, because they had fucking children together. That would forever be their bind. That was the key to separating them, and anytime they had tried, whether through his powers or anything else, those children always survived.

Sansa had never been one to kill children. She had been one herself not too long ago, trying to figure out how the world worked. But Bran had given her visions, told her that if these children were allowed to live, they would grow to be just like their parents. And no one wanted that. So they had tried and tried again and again, and yet nothing had come.

And then all of a sudden, they had disappeared like it was nothing. Out of thin air. Bran had been using his powers to search for them in Meereen for months and yet he found nothing. No children. No Jon. No Daenerys.

But he did find Arya, which had broken Sansa's heart. Arya had always been about being with the North, supporting the pack, and yet here she was off in the city that the cunt was in, leading her people. Protecting her people when she should be in the North where she belongs! Jon was too far in, too deep. At this point, she didn't know what would convince him to stay. But Arya – she had to come back home. She was her actual sister, not just by relation like with Jon. And yet, there she was.

Her family was being overrun because of one woman. What the hell did Daenerys even have that she didn't? For Jon, she could only assume it was for sex or some magical cunt. But for Arya? Her sister? What was it – the fucking dragon that lured her in? There had to be something else. There had to be.

A part of her wondered if they knew what she, Bran and Tyrion had done. They had sworn a pact never to tell anyone of what they did for fear of the realm falling apart, but was there any possible way for them to figure it out? They had hidden the evidence and Varys had quite literally taken it to his grave. There was no way. There couldn't be a way.

…could there have been?

A knock on her solar door suddenly breaks her from her thoughts, and she lets out a low sigh before turning to the piece of oak. "Come in," she states, to which a handmaiden came in a moment later.

"We've been given some ravens today, my queen," the girl says, placing them down on her desk. "One from White Harbor, King's Landing, and somewhere in Essos."

Sansa's brow furrows. "Essos? What could they possibly want with us here?"

The woman shrugs her shoulders. "I couldn't know. I haven't read the letters yet. I'll be down in the foyer if you need me." Sansa nods, dismissing the handmaiden. As the door closes her hands open the first letter from White Harbor, and she lets out a deep sigh once her eyes begin to trace over the words.

'Queen Sansa,

While I understand that it must be easy for you to relax in your castle up in Winterfell, the rest of us simply can not no longer!

We put you as our queen for a reason – because you led us when Jon Snow strayed. But now, many are starting to have second thoughts, especially here in the city of White Harbor.

Children, as young as babes, are starving on the streets. Nothing is growing. Water is in slow supply – at least the clean part. And our homes are beginning to fall apart due to lack of coin or any sort of aid from you or anywhere else!

Maybe it is time we thought of rejoining the Six Kingdoms – because clearly you can not keep one standing yourself. Either you figure out what we are going to do with thousands of Northmen dying, or we will figure it out ourselves.

-Wyman of the House Manderly.'

It wasn't that she wasn't trying to figure out how to support her people through this drought of food and water. She was looking at every option possible but none seemed to fit with the North's climate, and no matter what, she did not want to return back to the kingdoms. She had fought for so long that having the North independent was what they needed. It had been independent for years before the conquerors. It could still be again.

But if there were more threats like this, she didn't know how much more she could take. She would have to stay putting soldiers on watch soon.

Looking at the remaining two letters, she decides to go with the one from Essos. A part of her thought maybe by some shred of luck it might be from Jon, but as soon as she opens it and sees unfamiliar writing, her shoulders drop. But then, her curiosity builds as she reads the words.

'Go to the foyer. On the outside, there will be a package. Use it well.'

"My grace!" someone suddenly yells from the other side of the door, and Sansa quickly stands to go and attend, opening it to see the handmaiden with a shocked look in her eyes. "Someone dropped off a whole carton of packages last night. You need to see this."

Sansa rushes after her as they head down the stairs and turns corners until they were sitting in the dim lighting of the entrance to the castle. As soon as she sees, she feels her heart stop. It was truly gigantic, this package. How someone would have lugged this to here, she didn't know. She nods to some of the guards to open it and they grab a bar, pulling it up until it suddenly snaps.

The door falls, and out rolls sacks and sacks. Sansa leans down and looks at it in shock.

It…it was food.

All different kinds of food, from somewhere in Essos. And when she looks up, she could see something wet in the distance of the cargo wetting the board boxes, and only then does she realize there must have been fish in there as well. What was this? Who had sent this?

"How do we know none of this is poisoned?" Sansa asks, taking a step back.

"With all due respect, your grace, it would be quite hard to poison this much food," a guards points out, looking at it in shock.

Sansa looks at the food again before shaking her head. "I can't believe this…who would send this? Who knows about what is happening in the North?"

She walks around the edge of the cargo before seeing another note pinned to the end. Quietly, she rips it down, the same handwriting along it.

'I've sent other packages to the other cities and towns in the North. Sanction is as you please – but be responsible. Your people are in need.'

Sansa stares at the note before pushing it into one of her pockets, letting the words play out in her head. She hadn't wanted to accept outside help, whoever this person may be, but at this point, she knew that if she didn't, there would be riots. Something bad would start. It was what they needed. So, making a decision right then and there, she turns to the guards.

"Administer the food to every home, and send people to the other cities to make sure they've done this as well. Tell them it was from us – not some foreign stranger. We can't have unrest in the kingdom. But at least they will be taken care of. From there, if more packages begin to come, we have to keep up the façade."

"Yes, my queen," two soldiers state before starting to take the food out of the cargo box. Sansa lets out a deep sigh as she steps back, watching them remove bit by bit pieces of food that she should have gotten herself. But instead, here she sat, accepting help from outsiders. From people in Essos, where that whore was from.

Did that make her no better? She didn't know. All she did understand was that at least now, people would have food. Even if she was not the producer. Maybe one day she would get to meet this kind soul and thank them for helping her people from afar, even if she didn't particularly like Essos. Could it be Braavos? She knew Arya had ties there, but Arya wasn't here anymore. And there's no way she could convince Daenerys to do something like that.

Someone out there, and eventually she would meet them one way or another.

She sighs and pulls out the last letter from King's Landing, wondering what in all the seven hells could Bran have to say to her now, but instead when she removes the seal and begins to read, a different pairing of familiar writing passes over her eyes.

'Sansa Stark,

While I have heard of the issues going on in the North, we haven't sent anything yet due to your reluctance to accept outside help. While I do believe that to be unwise, that is the least of our problems right now.

Bran sent out ravens to Meereen again, just to see if we could catch something. And he did. He did very much so.

And it involves your brother. And Daenerys. And many, many other people.

I can't say too much in this letter for fear of it getting intercepted, but please make your way down to King's Landing as soon as possible. It is urgent.

-Tyrion of House Lannister, Hand of the King.'

Sansa's brow furrows. What could be so bad? Were Jon and Daenerys together again? Was there something else brewing? What could have happened in Meereen to entice this letter like this?

"Get me a pack and ready a carriage," she instructs a soldier, placing the letter down. "I'm going to have to travel to King's Landing."

Tyrion

He was so fucked.

Well, if they knew about what they did, they truly were, but if Daenerys came back to Westeros with this army, they would be absolutely destroyed.

Westeros had been falling. Many of the kingdoms have begun to bring in an open rebellion to the king due to his lack of basic care. In Tyrion's eyes, he thought he had made the right choice. Bran had never been corrupted by power. He was able to see the world. He could always see some sort of problem coming whenever he needed it.

And yet now, it seemed he didn't care. He hadn't cared for a long time now. It was like he was a completely different person than the Bran he had come to know initially. Most people had been welcoming to a new ruler, especially one from the North, but now with many of the kingdoms falling apart, and now the North was apparently in a food and water drought, Tyrion was questioning himself more and more.

Now, however, he was questioning if this was his biggest fuck-up of all – leaving Daenerys alive again.

Bran had told him years ago that Daenerys was alive, but that she would not return to Westeros for fear of her life being taken again, for her children, from what he could see. Tyrion had believed that. Bran had then told him that Jon had joined her across the Narrow Sea, but they still would not return. He had believed that.

But now, Bran tells him an army of fucking dragons took down five slaver cities who were trying to attack Meereen in one shot, and all of them were led by Daenerys and Jon.

How the fuck could he believe that? But if Bran had seen it, it had to be true. But where the hell would Daenerys find that many dragonriders? And where did the fucking dragons come from? And what happened to their children? And was she planning on bringing them here? If she brought all of them here, they would all be dead in minutes. He would be dead in seconds.

No, no he wouldn't be dead. Daenerys would instead have him locked up and tortured for the acts that he had done. For the treason he had committed.

"Now, now," he tries to calm himself. "If she's working together with Jon, maybe there's hope for me. Maybe she won't attack me. I'm not the one who swung the sword."

'No, just the one who inspired the man to do it,' his mind utters to him. 'And conspired with two other people – no, three - to get her and Jon off of the throne.'

Good gods he prayed to all the old gods and the new that she did not know.

"Tyrion," he hears a voice suddenly say from behind him. The Hand of the King turns to see Davos standing there with a furrowed brow. "What is yer problem? Look like you've seen a shiverin' ghost. Face is as a pale as snow."

Tyrion clears his throat and looks up at the Master of Ships. "Bad choice of wine, I'm afraid," Tyrion states. "It's not sitting well with me."

"Ha! When have you ever had a bad choice of wine?" the man asks, shaking his head before looking outside. "That sounds ridiculous. Is there somethin' else goin' on?"

Tyrion shakes his head, trying his best to somehow be the littlest bit convincing. "No, that really is all it is. Think I might need to lie down for a bit. Skip the meeting with the king today."

Davos raises an eyebrow but then shrugs. "If you say so. I'll let him know." He glances back at Tyrion. "I've been hearing rumors, you know."

Tyrion feels himself still. "What rumors?"

"Things from the East. All 'bout some dragons they've been seeing. I know it can't be Daenerys because of what Jon did…but there might be others there deep in the East we don't know about. Could be trouble."

"Could be," Tyrion mutters before looking back at Davos. "You supported Jon until the end, right?"

Davos sighs and nods. "I did, yes."

"Why didn't you say anything when he was taken off to the wall? Why didn't you defend him?" That was something Tyrion was wondering about everyone nowadays. Arya Stark he knew was because she had trusted her sister at the time, so even if she had said no, there was nothing she could have done. But no one else had stood up for him.

Davos sighs and shrugs his shoulders. "I didn't think I had the right to say," he states to him. "I'm not a man of a noble house, while I do serve the king. If I had the choice now, after everything that's happened – Jon would be on the throne, regardless of what he did. And up until she had burned down the city, I agreed with her as well."

Tyrion's brow furrows. "You didn't think she would end up like her father?"

"I didn't think she'd burn down the whole city, no," Davos states, shaking his head. "I thought she would at least listen to the bells but it just…it didn't seem like her. She had lost 'lot of people. Even lost Jon at that point from what I could see, but…I didn't think she'd do that." He sighs and glances outside. "She was sweet but had her head on straight. She didn't let people get past her. I admired her for that. She reminded me of Jon, in a way – I think that's why they were good together – maybe that's why he had to kill her, I don't know."

Davos sighs and shrugs, stepping back from the window.

"A las, no one has a fucking clue where Jon is considering he's left the Wall and Daenerys is dead, so those are just dreams." He looks back at Tyrion and manages a tired smile. "Get some rest. I'll let you know everything the king says."

Tyrion nods and watches as Davos leaves to go around the corner, heading to the solar where the meeting would take place. Once he was gone, the man leans against the wall, practically banging his head.

These secrets were killing him. Sooner or later they were just going to come out, whether that be today or a year from now. People would begin to find out Daenerys was alive, and Jon was with her. They would find out about their treason. They would see them as the villains and Daenerys as-

'You still have those visions Bran had,' his mind says to him. 'What he sees is the truth...unless he's lying.'

No. No, he couldn't believe he was lying. He wouldn't. He had to think Bran of all people would be telling him the truth. Hopefully.

"Good gods, I'm fucked," he whispers to himself, before stumbling off to his chambers to drink himself away in oblivion. Maybe the letter he had sent off to Sansa would help, and they could all gather together and figure out what the fuck to do with this.

Because he truly did not have any idea.

It takes a month for Sansa to arrive at King's Landing due to how sheer far it is, and once she did, Tyrion was sure that he had drank enough to bury himself into a small coffin with how much stress that has been sailing through him recently. But when he saw Sansa, he could feel that increase tenfold.

"Tyrion," Sansa says to him as she steps off her carriage. She nods at her men to be dismissed, and once they are, she walks forward with him towards the entrance to the Red Keep. "I'm surprised that you invited me down for something. We haven't seen each other in person since Bran's coronation."

"Which is why this was needed." He looks up at her. "Good to see you – heard that the North is in trouble."

"Yes, I wanted to ask you that," Sansa states, her brow furrowed before she looks down at him. "You know that the North is in shambles and yet the day I left to come here, we received boxes of food and fish from somewhere. We believe it might be from Essos, but could you have done it?"

"I said in the letter that I stayed out of it. You didn't want any outside help. Whoever sent you that clearly didn't know."

Sansa sighs as they walk in. "It's been biting at my head ever since we left Winterfell. I didn't want to think it was from Essos, but it seems that's my only real option now since you said you didn't send it."

Tyrion bites his lip as they walk upstairs towards where the solar would be. "Well, it could be a whole other issue, but right now we need to focus on something Bran saw. Something I couldn't let the outside world see."

Sansa's brow furrows but she does not speak, only nods and follows him up the stairs towards where Bran would be waiting. Tyrion grabs the door and swings it open, to where Bran was waiting by the window, looking out into the city. His eyes and lips were blank of expression, but even Tyrion could tell from far away that he was thinking about something.

"Sit." His voice was as cold as ice, but Tyrion and Sansa do as he says, with Tyrion closing the door behind him. Once Sansa sits, Tyrion turns the king towards them, who looked different. His hair had grown longer and he seemed to have weathered in his face a bit, but to Sansa, Tyrion was sure that he still looked like her younger brother. Except Tyrion knew that he had changed.

Tyrion rushes over to his spot next to Sansa, before turning his gaze back to the king. "We have much to discuss."

"Yes, we do," Sansa states, looking over at Bran. "What is it that was so important that you couldn't tell me over the letter? You do know that traveling here took forever and traveling back will take even longer. I have people that need to be take-"

"Jon and Daenerys are together," Bran says, his voice even and monotone, but his eyes betray nothing. Sansa was still but attempts to speak once more. Even so, Bran continues. "They have found Valyria."

"What?" Sansa sputters. "That's impossible. Valyria was in ruins. If it was still there you would have seen it."

"I didn't think it was possible either, but it's there," Bran states. "I haven't been able to find the exact location, but it is the only way that what they did makes sense."

"What exactly did they do?" Sansa asks, looking at the two of them. "I mean, it's awful Jon is back with that cunt of a woman, but are they ever going to come here? Both of them have been disgraced and-"

"They have an army of dragons, Sansa," Bran states, causing Sansa to effectively shut up. "With riders. With men who are dressed in Targaryen armor. The only way that they could have that is if they found Valyria somehow. There was an ancient prophecy that the dragons would be reborn – and I believe we have reborn them again from what we have done. Now, they're stronger than ever."

Sansa stands in her seat. "That's impossible. There's no way that people would follow that woman after knowing what she's done!"

"It's because most don't judge her for that," Tyrion explains quietly. "Many people in Essos only know Dany for the kindness she had in her. For the generosity she showed her people. They would never believe she would do such a thing,"

"Generosity my ass!" Sansa snaps. "She never showed us any generosity when we asked for what the North was asking for."

"Without her dragons we would have been nothing but meat for the wights to chomp on!" Tyrion yells at her, causing Sansa's mouth to clamp shut. Tyrion stands and glares at her as well as Bran. "I know I have made mistakes – plenty of them, some of which should never be forgiven. But my biggest one was supporting this…this fiasco that you two planned. Daenerys may have lost her family but I know she wouldn't have lost herself if not for you two!"

"I had those visions, Tyrion," Bran reminds him. "Do you really want to go back on what we have said?"

"Those visions could have been a lie for all I know," Tyrion snaps angrily. "I can agree that Daenerys went too quickly. She should have held her forces back. But I still don't believe that vision you had of her flying over King's Landing meant she was going to burn anyone! It could have just been her going to the castle to burn Cersei, but you didn't want to take that chance! And all those other visions that you had – she could have just been burning down the people that meant harm to her! That's what rulers do. They protect the innocent and get rid of the filth on the street – and honestly neither of you have done ANY OF IT!"

He was breathing heavily, staring at them both. Maybe he would be thrown in a cage for saying all of this, but he couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Bran, you have changed from the boy I thought you were. You don't give a fuck about these people. All you have been doing is taking more and more land for yourself before even listening to people's commands or needs. You've done nothing to help the kingdoms or their followers. All you've done is made sure that your needs are satisfied! What the fuck happened to the man that I pushed forward? In all honesty, I should have fought for Jon because he would have been doing a damn good better fucking job than you."

"Tyrion," Sansa gasps.

"And don't even get me started on you!" Tyrion snaps at her, turning his head now to glance her way. "You are so stubborn. And not in a good way. Anytime anyone ever offers you any kind of help, you turn it away because you want to 'deal with it yourself.' When in reality, the North relies on trades because you have such a cold ground there that it is impossible to grow! You may be trying to treat your people but in the end you are only bringing them closer to your doom and ending their lives quicker because you can't seem to take the fucking stick out from your ass!"

The two rulers were silent, staring at Tyrion. The dwarf finally leans back in his seat and yanks at the bottle of wine on the table, pouring it into a goblet before chugging the whole thing down his throat. Once all of it was gone, he pours another glass, settles it down on the table, and looks between the two of them.

"We…have fucked. Up." His words ring true through the solar. "We have fucked up so hard that now, there's an even bigger threat that is aimed at Westeros."

"We don't know if she's going to come here with those dragons," Sansa states, her voice shaking. "If what you say is true."

"And what if she does, hmm?" Tyrion asks her, his voice low. "We don't know what she's thinking. Bran may have gotten into Dan's head, but we didn't know what she was looking at, what she was thinking. How are we going to know Daenerys' mind? For all we know, she could be planning her attack now!"

"How do we know she's even good at leading these dragons? You two still haven't told me what she did."

"She took back five slaver cities in an hour, Sansa," Tyrion whispers angrily. "Not even including Meereen. Her and Jon and all their dragons and men. In an hour! Do you know the amount of power she must have had to do all that? To take on five cities worth of soldiers and boats in an hour!? Astapor, Yunkai, Elyria, Tolos, and Mantarys, in one fucking hour?! Are you an idiot?!"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Sansa hisses at him.

"Silence," came Bran's voice, causing both of them to shut their mouths and turn to the king. He was pensive, leaning back in his chair, staring at Tyrion. "What the bigger issue here is not Daenerys. Yes, she is a problem…but now, Jon is with her. Jon is a true Targaryen, now. He can't be burned."

Sansa's brow furrows. "He's been burned before, though."

"His blood was changed."

"How does that even happen?!"

"What does it matter?" Tyrion asks her, his head leaning back. "We did the opposite of what we intended to do. We wanted to end Daenerys in her conquering. That's why we came up with that stupid plan. And what has it done? It's only reborn another conqueror – her lover. Jon fucking Snow."

"Actually, he goes by Jaehaerys Targaryen now," Bran states.

Tyrion feels his head hit the end of the table. "Oh, great. That makes me feel so much better now."

"But I thought he hated the name Aegon?" Sansa asks. "Why would he change to another Valyrian name if he didn't even go by the first?"

"Because he wanted to embrace his fucking heritage without sticking to the past," Tyrion responds, lifting his head. "So he changed it to Jaehaerys. Two Targaryen rulers that did good things. He's no longer a Stark."

"He will always be a Stark," Sansa states angrily.

"Tell that to the dragon he's riding – both literally and physically."

Sansa glares at the dwarf before turning back to Bran. "Alright then, so what?!" she asks, leaning forward. "So what if they have an army of dragons, or whatever they have done to reclaim cities. If we feel they are a threat, then how about we send out forces to take them down?"

"We can't take them on in a battle. That's too risky," Bran states. "It would have to be discreet. Otherwise their dragons would overpower us all. Same with their army. I'm almost positive I have seen Dothraki with her people as well."

Tyrion shakes his head and suddenly pushes back from the table. "No."

Sansa raises an eyebrow at him while Bran stares. "No? What do you mean no? You weren't this hesitant the last time we did something like this!"

"I was indeed hesitant because I didn't want to turn a queen evil and have her burn down thousands of lives!" Tyrion snaps at her but calms himself down a moment later. "I refuse to take part in some scheme again where they get hurt. Don't you think there's a reason why both of them have been brought back so often? We can't just keep killing them because, in all honesty, they'll just come back! If we talk with them about this – tell them to stay away from Westeros – then maybe this can be settled without violence. Wherever they are."

Sansa snorts and shakes her head. "You think an army that the dragon queen has will settle for something like a talk?"

"Cersei did when I spoke with her in King's Landing and she could have had my head cut off in an instant."

"And then she cut off that queen's handmaiden's head! She went back on her word!"

"I know Daenerys isn't like that!" Tyrion exclaims. "She keeps her word unless she has fucking venom in here," he bites out. "I believe that if given the chance, I'd be able to talk with Jon and Daenerys the same way – or Jaehaerys. Whatever he goes by now."

Sansa stares at him in shock. "I can't believe you would do something like that. You know what she is like."

"Daenerys was none of this until she came to this cursed country," Tyrion states, looking over at her. "And why are you acting like this is all on her?"

"Because it is!"

"Jon is with her too. Jon lead that army as well in Meereen. He can't be burned. He rides a fucking dragon. He's as Targaryen as she is now!"

"I don't believe it," Sansa snaps angrily. "Jon always stood by his values. There has to be a reason why he's doing this. I know that if we killed her and captured him then-"

"Enough with the killing!" he suddenly yells, throwing the wine across the room. It splatters against the wall, creating stains across the carpet. The two stare at him. Even Bran seemed to be in shock at the emptied goblet of alcohol.

For Tyrion to waste wine, it must have been serious.

"I am done with this plotting and scheming. This isn't some plan anymore. This is real shit that we have to deal with because if we make one false move, she will bring her army over her and obliterate us! Does that mean anything to you?!"

The two stare at him, silent. "I still don't believe she will sit down with us at all. Not after what Westeros has done."

"Well, she's been brought back to life. So has he. We saw and fought dead things to survive. Stranger things have fucking happened." He wipes the sweat from his forehead and steps back. "I am going to leave this meeting with some form of fucking dignity left intact, but you must promise me that there will be no violence. This has to be some sort of peaceful negotiation. It's the only way possible without this turning into a war."

Sansa opens her mouth to speak, but Bran was the first to follow. "We promise." Sansa stares at him, but Bran does not look back. After a moment, the Queen in the North lets her shoulders drop in a defeated sigh before leaning back in her chair.

"We promise," she mutters.

"Good," Tyrion breathes, taking a step back. "Now, I am going to go get drunk and forget all about this bullshit of a meeting. We will talk again tomorrow or tonight or whenever…I need to forget about this for a day."

He walks away after that, leaving the two Starks to their own, trying to get out of his own mind.

It was hours later when he suddenly wakes up in shock at the movement underneath him. It felt like he was on some sort of ship, and water was flowing back and forth.

He looks around quickly and realizes he was in some dimly lit room, at the bottom of a boat. How the fuck had he gotten here? And why did this remind him of his drop to Daenerys in Meereen? Varys was dead – who had captured him?

He supposed he had brought this on himself. He couldn't remember the last time he had drank that much and passed out from the amount of alcohol, but it was the first kind of sleep he was able to get in months. Even so, who would be capturing him? He didn't do anything wrong – at least not recently. Was this past people coming back to haunt him?

Or was this…Daenerys' men?

'Fuck,' he mutters inwardly, struggling to break free of his chains and binds that were around his ankles and wrists, but to no avail. He was securely fastened. He looks around, trying to see if he could find any other source of light besides the torches that were dimly lit in the boat, rocking him slowly onto the floor again and again.

However, his questions didn't go unanswered for long because the door to the brig opens up, and two feet step down one after the other until a lantern appears. And then, when the light hits the person's face, Tyrion feels his shoulders drop.

It was fucking Davos Seaworth.

"Ah, you're awake," the man states, placing the lantern down and walking over to where Tyrion was. He tries to speak through his gag but his words were mumbled. "Didn't think for a second you would wake up. Was a bit concerned you drunk yourself to death last night."

Tyrion tries to mumble words through his gag once more but none come out. Davos leans down to where he sat, the usually relaxed gaze in Davos' eyes changing to one of seriousness.

"Now I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly, or else we're going to have a bad time. Can ya do that for me?" Tyrion swallows but nods. "I overheard your meeting with the Stark girl and the king. Is what you said true? You did something to Daenerys and Jon?"

Tyrion feels himself freeze, unable to answer the question. Davos suddenly shakes him, trying to get him to do something when Tyrion slowly and numbly nods his head.

Davos rips off the gag that was around Tyrion's mouth, glaring at him. "What did you do?"

"You know, it's quite rude to kidnap someone when they are drunk," Tyrion mutters.

"What did you do?!" the man asks once more, this time with ferocity. Tyrion sighs and leans his head back against the wall his body was propped up against.

"Bran had these visions, apparently, of Daenerys burning down buildings. We didn't know if they were innocent so they wanted to pick a better ruler that wasn't a Targaryen. So, they dosed her with basilisk venom to turn her mad, and I…I manipulated Jon into killing her. They concocted the whole thing but I was a part of it."

If it was possible, he was sure Davos would have had steam coming out of his ears. "How could you?" he whispers to him. "She was your queen and yet it seems that you weren't the true follower. You turned a good woman mad."

"I was terrified of what was to come!" Tyrion yells. "She had lost so much. I could only imagine what else would happen to her and I – I didn't know which side she would fall on! I loved her, I did, but love is the death of duty and if we let that love overtake us then she might have ruined Westeros!"

"You are a weak man," Davos snaps at him, standing up. "I always heard stories about Tyrion Lannister, one of the smartest men in Westeros, and yet all I see here is a coward. Using a cheap way out of facing someone. You knew it was the only way to succeed because you were failing her with your plans, and she was going to replace you."

Tyrion swallows and looks up at him. "Who told you that?"

"Who do you think? The fucking King in the North himself. Which is another despicable thing about this – using a man's love against himself. For fuck's sake, Jon was going to ask her to marry him." He rubs his face, looking at the ground. "Granted I didn't know about Jon's true heritage at the time, but that sort of shit doesn't matter. They truly did love each other. And you ruined it."

He shakes his head and looks forward.

"I always wondered why Jon did it. He was always a man of his word. He probably would have stuck by Daenerys. But then you probably mentioned his sisters, didn't you? Yeah, you did…can tell from yer eyes. Hmm…well, one of them is with him now, and the other is a schemer, so I wonder who the favorite is."

"How do you know Arya is in Meereen?" Tyrion asks.

"Your conversations aren't that hard to hear. Yer quite loud." Davos shakes his head before looking at him. "Right, well, I got the information that I needed – even if I hate what I heard." He goes behind Tyrion and suddenly undoes his binds and unclasps his chains. Tyrion rubs his aching skin before looking up at Davos. "Now, you're free to wander about the boat, because we're going to be on here for a long time."

Tyrion's brow furrows as he stands. "Where are we going?"

"The only place where you can carry out this peaceful agreement of yours," Davos states. "The Smoking Sea."

Tyrion feels his eyes widen at the term. "V-Valyria?"

"As much as I can tell, yes. Don't know exactly where and hopefully we don't get shipwrecked but hey, we'll see, right?"

"A-Are the king and queen in the North on here?"

"No because let's be honest, do you really think they'll have a sit-down peaceful discussion about this with those two? They probably know what you did at this point. And if they do, then you're in for some sort of beating, but not as bad as they would have been. I left them a note the best I could and we sailed off. Get ahead of the curve before they plan something."

Tyrion follows Davos out onto the deck, seeing that there was truly only him and the sailor. "You know, they might not be happy about this."

"At this point, I don't care." Davos looks down at Tyrion. "Westeros is dying. Where my family lives? Those people are dying. We can't afford another war. And hey, if all goes well, we might run into that benefactor of Sansa's. Maybe get some help for fuck's sake, considering the king doesn't seem to care."

Tyrion sighs and leans against the bow of the ship. Isn't this what he wanted? To do this peacefully? But he could almost feel at the pit of his stomach a ball forming of panic that he hadn't felt in a long time. He was possibly going to see Daenerys and Jon. After he betrayed them. With an army of dragons.

Good gods.

"He…has changed," Tyrion states, looking up at Davos. "I don't know what it is."

"Madness," Davos mutters.

"He's not mad," Tyrion argues, glancing back at the water. "He's not burning people for fun but…he's very…different. I don't know what it is."

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we get there safely," Davos responds, looking back at Tyrion. "Which means you shutting your tiny mouth up so we can get there in one piece. And if not, I'll feed you to the fish down below."

And with that, Tyrion clamps his lips shut.

Jon

The first thing Jon woke up to in the morning was the sound of vomiting. Which really never meant anything good.

It had been happening every other day for the past week, and each time he would spring up and run to the bathing chambers, which is what he did right now. He opens the door and sees a sadly familiar sight, with Daenerys leaning over the pot, all the contents of last night's dinner escaping her.

He quickly kneels beside her and pulls back her hair, rubbing her back as she vomited. "It's alright," he whispers to her gently. "Get it all out…it's okay…"

It had been like this for some time now. The first time she had passed it off as something she might have eaten the day before. The second time she felt like it was some sort of sickness and it would pass. The third, she still thought it was something in her, but nothing seemed to be working.

And now, Jon was starting to worry.

She gags a moment later, her back lurching before she lets her head rest against the edge of the chamber pot. "Wonder how beautiful I look right now," she mutters, her voice groggy.

Jon pulls her back gently, leaning her against him. "Still just as beautiful," he reassures her, grabbing a cloth and wiping her mouth. She sighs once he pulls it back, closing her eyes. "Here, let me take you to bed."

Weakly she nods, and he picks her up into his arms, carrying her gently back into their chambers. He lays her down on the furs, placing them around her to make sure she was warm before looking at her concerned.

"This has been happening a lot lately," he states quietly, standing up and walking over to the door to call to a guard. One of them comes over and he whispers quickly, "fetch a glass of water for me." The guard races off and returns not a moment later, the water ready in his hands. Jon takes it and nods at the man for dismissal before closing the door. He walks back over to Daenerys and tilts the glass upwards, helping her drink to wash out the taste.

Once she finishes the drink, she lets out a soft sigh and looks over at him. "I…I don't know if this is just a sickness anymore, Jon."

Jon sighs and brushes her hair away from her cheek. "Neither do I."

Her head rests against the back of the bed, a look of worry overcoming her. "I…I never get sick…maybe a cold but…never like this." She bites her lip and glances at the furs. "I…I remember when after Missandei died I was vomiting but I thought that was because of the grief I felt…maybe it was because of this."

Jon glances towards the door before looking back at her. "How about you rest for the day?"

"But I can't," she whispers, looking up at him. "The people from the Free Cities are going to be here today to talk about terms and I…I have to be there."

"We can push it off a day, or whenever you feel better," he says to her gently. "I can tell them that they have to wait. Remember that they came here for us. They can be patient for you."

Daenerys swallows and glances at the ground. "I just don't want them to think of me as weak. This is the first time I'm meeting the leaders of these places. If they see that I'm ailing in bed-"

"Dany, you've been vomiting for a week straight. Anyone, no matter how strong they look, would be in bed after that," he points out, trying to calm her down. "Don't worry. I will handle them. You rest your head. I'll make sure no one comes to disturb you. Oh – how about I get Eleana in here to draw you a warm bath? Does that sound nice?"

Daenerys nods gently, trying not to harm herself. "Yes, that does."

"Good. I'll get Eleana – I'm sure she's with the children and dragons right now. Later on, I'll fetch Kinvara to check on you."

Daenerys nods. "That sounds good." He leans down and kisses her forehead gently, feeling her sigh once he pulls back. As soon as he begins to leave, she calls out, "Jon?" He turns his head to look, and he could see a slightly weak smile on her lips. "Please don't worry the whole day about me."

"I'll try not to," he states, seeing her rest against the bed. He leaves a moment after that, closing the door behind him and letting out a quiet curse. He hated seeing Dany sick like this. He had never seen her so weak in one moment. Daenerys was always someone that no matter what, she pulled through anything. But this had been starting to scare him.

It had been okay for about a month. They had returned back to Valyria and dealt through the qualms of the slave masters before sending them back to their cities with their new governors leading them, along with their people. Even if those dragonlords had taken their followers and servants with them, Valyria still felt new and fresh, with the thousands of Meereen people that had followed them.

Some had remained however in Meereen, and that had been taken over by another ancient dragonlord family, the Agralis'. They had been around since before the Targaryens were even born and knew their way around flying and leading, so they had sent them there to take care of the Meereen people.

For where they sent Daario, that was with the Mantarys' family, the Veleneos'. Now, those dragonlords were the perfect match for the disgraced sellsword, because they were known to be violent towards people who disobeyed them. For a city like Mantarys, where it was running with thieves and bandits, that kind of discipline was needed. But even more for Daario, considering he would have to submit to his new role or face pain.

Even so, once they were all gone, they had worked on establishing the new people into the city, giving them homes and areas to live in. Jon had found an area on the outside where the Dothraki could camp and set up their own area considering they didn't want to stay in the city. He had to admit while fighting that Khal had nearly knocked him the fuck out, he was glad to see them following him as well as Daenerys now. It made his life a lot easier.

Once they had all been settled, the next order of business has been to contact the Free Cities and work out terms of the agreement. While the slave cities of Slaver's Bay were rampant with slaves, the Free Cities were a bit different. While some of them did have slaves – Volantis had five slaves for every man – some did not have any at all, such as Braavos. Others used slaves as pleasure figures, like in Lys. It was a bit more complicated working out how they would help them instead of what they did in Meereen.

They had sent out those letters weeks ago to bring them here to discuss how to properly move forward without the threat of dragons. He knew what they had done had probably spread across Essos at this point like wildfire, but he knew the rise of Valyria would become the news to everyone's ears eventually.

But now, his other half was in bed. Vomiting her guts out. That was something that seriously did not expect to happen and really didn't want to continue to happen. But right now, he had no choice. For when the representatives from the Free Cities arrived, he would have to hold off their talk.

As he walked down the stairs to the left, where a garden was that many times he had visited with Daenerys or the other children, he felt himself smile a little bit watching them from afar. Nesara was settled next to Eleana, who was reading her a book while the other children practiced their sword work. The dragons, all six of them, were flying above, moving from tree to tree.

They had grown considerably, but not by too much. To Jon they were still young and would remain young for some time. When Aryeon spotted him, he flew over to his side, screeching. "Hey there," he says gently to the dragon as it lands on his shoulder, scratching the side of his head. "How have you been? Keeping the children busy?"

The dragon screeches in response as the others begin to fly his way, settling above the trees. Eleana looks up from where she sat in surprise at him coming to visit them. "Jon," she says with a smile, placing the book down. Nesara looked upset that she couldn't finish but Eleana ushers her off with a "go practice with your siblings!" And to that, she runs to where Mae stood with her fake sword. She turns back to Jon. "I'm shocked to see you down here so early. Is everything alright?"

Jon sighs and takes a seat next to her. "No, it's not, honestly." Her brow furrows in concern but he only shakes his head. "First off, did Yara leave yesterday? I've been so focused on readying this place for the Free Cities I haven't even noticed."

Yara Greyjoy had been coming in and out of Valyria as much as she could with more supplies and ships for them ever since she had agreed to their plan. Their shipping system that Daenerys had wanted was starting to take a hold. Eleana had been keeping track of Yara – among other things.

"I'm not her keeper," Eleana mutters, but her cheeks turn red. "Even then, she left yesterday to return to Westeros. She had some fish and some fruit this time for her people. I suppose she will be back in about a month or so. The ships she has left will be sent off to the port cities."

"Good," Jon responds before raising an eyebrow at her. "You and her seem to be having some fun, huh?"

"Jon, I swear to all the gods below and above, what do you want?" she impatiently asks, shaking her head. "I don't need to be bombarded, please."

Jon chuckles. "I know. You've grown up a lot since I first met you. I won't judge you. But – I do need you to take care of the queen. Seriously. Not just handmaiden shit."

She looks at him in surprise. "I wouldn't call it 'shit,' but what is it that you are referring to?"

"Daenerys is sick. I don't know what kind of sickness it is but it has her vomiting every day and weak enough where she doesn't feel like she could stand. She thought it would pass after a couple of days but it's still there, just as strong. I need you to go up there and run her a bath, and if she needs anything, get it for her. I feel bad enough that I can't take care of her myself, but I have to deal with the Free Cities today and then get Kinvara to check on her."

Eleana stands. "I'll go there right away…does that mean you'll look after the children?"

Jon glances over at where they stood, practicing, and shakes his head. "I think they'll be fine, honestly. They're grown enough to know not where to go. I'll tell them myself…but you go off and take care of her. We need to make sure she feels better at least a little bit soon so we can chat with the Free Cities."

Eleana nods, turning back around. But before she leaves, she looks back at him. "Jon? Did it ever occur to you that it might not be a sickness happening?"

His brow raises at her words. "Then what could it be that has her that way?"

She stares at him before shaking her head. "You know, I'll let you figure it out. You're smart."

Before he could ask, she was gone, leaving to go take care of the queen. Jon sighs and feels himself slump against the bench in the garden, glancing at the ground. What could she have meant? Could it not be a sickness? Could it be she was just…dying? Or was it something else? What else had something to do with vomiting? There's no way she could have eaten bad food that often.

"Papa?"

The voice stuns him from his thoughts as Nesara walks over to him. He looks back and sees the other children coming his way as well. "Wh-what's going on?" he stumbles a bit. "Continue practicing."

"We saw the worried look on your face," Daemon responds quietly. "We wanted to come over and see if anything was wrong."

Jon sighs and runs a hand through his curls, before looking back at all five of the children. "Your mother is sick."

An array of shocked and surprised faces crosses their paths, but none other than Nesara looked at him in worry. "Is she going to die?!"

"No, no," he reassures the girl softly, not even knowing himself, but he pulls her gently up into his arms, rubbing her back. "She isn't going to die. She's only been sick in the mornings recently. Very weak today." He looks up at the other four children, all of which seemed concerned. "I know that sounds horrible to hear, but I believe it's something else going on. I'm going to have to deal with a lot of people today, so you're going to be on your own for a bit. Don't worry about your mother too much."

"Is she going to be okay?" Dan asks worriedly.

"We…hope so. I'm going to fetch Kinvara later to check on her once-" At that moment, the horns started to ring from the wall of Valyria. "Fuck, they're here," he mutters, placing Nesara down gently. "I need to greet the people from the Free Cities. You five stay in the castle and stay out of trouble."

"But trouble is Dan's middle name!" Zaevar calls out, causing Dan to glare at him.

"Just please – for the sake of your mother, keep practicing. No fire or blood magic. Do not scare off the people in the Free Cities. I will see you all later." Jon stands and heads off, leaving the children alone in the garden while he rushes out, trying to figure out how in the name of the seven hells he was going to be able to push off this meeting.

Somehow, someway, he would.

Dan

"Well, that didn't sound good," Mae mutters.

Dan sits on the bench her father had just been on, looking at Mae and Zaevar, both of which seemed to be looking at the entrance to the castle in worry. "I'm sure it's nothing," Dan states, standing up.

"It's usually not if mother is sick," Daemon points out, walking over to them again after grabbing his sword. "She never gets sick."

"Everyone gets sick," Zaevar responds.

"Not mother. She always makes sure she's healthy. The only thing I think I've ever seen her do that's sickly is cough or sneeze, never vomit."

Dan bites her lip and looks at her other siblings. "Should we be worried?"

"I don't know," Mae states quietly, looking between them. "Do you think we should do something for mother?"

"Ooh, let's make her something!" Nesara says from her spot, smiling widely. "Food always makes everyone feel better!"

"If mother is vomiting she might not be able to keep it down," Daemon points out. "We can't make her a large feast and serve it to her in bed only for her just barf it back up."

"Ew."

"What?" he states, looking over at Mae whose face was scrunched up in disgust. "It's what's happening right now! We need to at least be truthful about it or else we're going to end up surprised if something happens to her."

Dan looks over at Daemon. "Well, I do think making something for her would be nice…make her a little happy, at least a bit." She looks over at Mae and Zaevar. "Any ideas from you?"

"Cake!" Nesara exclaims.

Dan rolls her eyes. "Not everything can be sweet, Nesy," she states, pulling the girl off of the bench gently. "We can't just feed her cake."

"Why not? It's really good."

"Good gods, alright, anyone other than Nesy?" Dan asks, causing Nesy to pout. Mae chuckles and walks over, taking her little sister into her arms.

"It's alright, I'm sure we can make her something sweet too." She looks over at Dan. "How about…chicken soup? We just got some livestock in from the farms out near the fields. It would fresh and it's easy to take down…it might warm her up too if she's sick. I know how to make them from my time serving here."

Daemon nods. "That sounds like a good plan." He looks at Nesy and smiles. "How about to fulfill her sweet tooth, we make something sweet but nothing too…intense. Like banana bread?" he suggests, looking to all of them. "Whenever I would get sick when I was super young, mother would bring me bananas from the Meereen fields and they would make me feel more awake, with a bit of cinnamon."

"That would be great if any of us knew how to bake," Zaevar retorts.

"I have some idea," Mae says softly. "But I've never made banana bread."

Daemon turns to Dan, who raises her hands in defense. "Hey, I only know how to cook from the wildlings, and the last thing you want is Tormund's special stew." She shivers at just the thought of it. "We need someone who actually has the experience and not just the cooks in the castle. Someone who can keep it a secret without spreading it to every single servant in the castle."

"What are you five scheming?"

The children turn their heads to see Arya Stark appear around the entrance of the garden, with Gendry and the two direwolves by her side. Ever since they had arrived in Valyria and met the dragon, the wolves had understandably tried to separate themselves due to fear of being caught on fire. However, Ghost had taken a liking to Aryeon, something Dan knew was because it was Jon's dragon.

She didn't know if Arya knew yet that the dragon was named after her. Maybe father was so busy lately that he hadn't had the time to really tell her yet. It wasn't really her place to say.

Ari races over to Dan's side, licking her hand. Dan still didn't know what to name her dragon even after all this time. She only hoped the right name came at the perfect moment. Daemon had named his Bloodrida, after his power and the bloodriders that had helped them. Plus, it also apparently 'sounded fearful,' according to him. Mae had taken it upon herself to name her Seraxes, an old dragon name that was apparently passed down in the family for years.

And Nesara, well – she had wanted to name hers, Scalely. Because, you know, dragons have a lot of scales.

'Bless her young soul,' she mutters in her mind. Mae had politely declined that name as a stand-in for what her real name would be in the future. Because there was no way a dragon was going to fly around with the name Scalely.

But Dan, her name hadn't come to her yet. Maybe one day it would.

At the sight of the wolves most of the dragon's screech and take off into the sky, heading into different areas of the castle. Arya chuckles a bit at the reaction but her eyes don't move from the children.

"We aren't scheming," Zaevar states. "Daenerys is sick."

Arya's brow furrows. "How sick?"

"Sick enough where father is handling everything today," Daemon explains. "We wanted to make something for her. Mae knows how to make chicken soup but we also wanted to make banana bread. Neither of us know how to make that."

Gendry raises an eyebrow. "I have an idea of how to make it."

Dan's brow raises above her hairline. "How do you of all people know how to make banana bread?"

"When I was young my mother was a tavern wench," he says simply, looking at her. "She knew these recipes from the cooks that would work in these flimsy taverns, but occasionally when royalty or nobleman came by, they had this recipe of banana bread that was the best thing around…if you want I can teach you?"

"Please, please, please!" Nesara exclaims, running over to him and grabbing his hand. Gendry chuckles and looks down at Arya.

"Guess I'll be baking today."

Arya snickers and shrugs. "We'll follow after you. Come on, let's go make the queen something to eat." The children then rush inside after him as Nesara pulls him towards the kitchens. Daemon goes in after Nesy so she doesn't pull Gendry's arm off, while Dan stays behind with Arya and the two direwolves. Ari licks Dan's hand again before rushing off with Ghost, probably to go rest.

"I took them out hunting this morning," Arya explains to her. "Needed to get out of the castle, and Jon's been so busy lately that I've sort of taken over caring for Ghost sometimes."

Dan shrugs. "As long as they're being fed I don't think it matters that much. What about Ari? Has she started to hunt? I haven't been able to go out with her in a long time."

"Started? She's almost as good as Ghost."

Dan smiles brightly. "Good."

When they had arrived at the kitchens, the children had been the one to usher the cooks out so they could have the whole area. Mae had politely sat down Gendry until they were done with the soup, and once that was finished they would move onto the bread.

Each one of them was given something to do, whether that was cutting up the chicken, stirring the pot, or finding the right kind of spices. Well, Mae made sure everything was perfectly cut and picked to perfection considering she had done this for some time before her mother had saved the girl. So really it was like a little bit of help from each child until Mae had the executive order.

Once the soup was finished and put away over a fire to keep it warm for mother, they began on the banana bread with Gendry, who taught them slowly the recipe that he remembered from their youth. Dan, at one point, when flour had gone flying onto her clothes because Nesara's clumsy arms had knocked them over, had tapped out and decided to just watch for a bit with Arya.

And it was funny, how serious they got mashing the bananas, or stirring the bowl. Maybe baking would be something they should do more in the future.

"I didn't know Gendry could bake," Dan says quietly to Arya.

"Neither did I. You learn something new every day." Nesara flings flour suddenly up at Gendry, playfully, and then he does it back, causing the little girl to giggle. "It's quite sweet, what he's doing for them. For all of you."

Dan looks over at her and bites her lip. "Would you ever want a child of your own?"

Arya laughs a little, looking at the ground. "To have one? I don't think that's for me. I've never really been…mother material, I suppose." She glances over at Nesara and smiles a bit. "Maybe adopt an orphan in the future, one that's not a baby. That just needs a loving home. Like what your mother and father did for the Galeron's. I think that would be nice to have. But not anytime soon."

Dan smiles a little, nodding. "That is what they did, that's for sure." She bites her lip and brings a knee up to her chest. "I've been…debating lately."

Arya's brow furrows. "About what?"

Dan glances up at her and then at the door. "Can you promise not to tell my father?"

Arya snorts. "My whole life has been about keeping secrets so that shouldn't be that big of a deal. What is it?"

Dan sighs and looks at the ground before looking back at her. "I've tried my hardest to embrace the name they gave me. To be a Targaryen…and I feel like I have to an extent. I've even changed my name like father did."

Arya's brow furrows. "To what?"

"Daenesa Targaryen."

Arya nods, approving. "Definitely sounds more Targaryen-like."

"See? I mean, I even have a dragon now – and yet, I've been struggling figure out what to name it, and now that Ari is back I…I don't know which side to choose." She looks back at the ground. "I want to be a Targaryen and I know I am…but I can't deny that there's Stark blood in me too. In Daemon as well. But it's different with me. I grew up in the cold for years. Daemon has never even experienced it besides White Harbor…it's so confusing. Like, do I not keep Ari now that I have a dragon? What do I choose? Mother always gives choices but this I…I don't know what to pick."

Arya looks at her quietly before reaching over and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Let me tell you a story about myself." She emphasizes it with a soft squeeze to the shoulders. "When I was younger, smaller than you, I didn't want to grow up to be a lady. I'm sure your father has told you that by now. My father even got me sword lessons when I told him my dream. And then, my father was killed. I had to escape and somehow find my own destiny. Choose my own path after a while. I ran into many men who have tried to kill me and failed because I chose to learn something that most women don't know how to do."

"But…how did you make that choice?" Dan asks softly.

"By listening to my heart," she states. Dan rolls her eyes to that, which causes Arya to laugh, but she only nods and continues on. "I'm serious. I know it sounds stupid but it's truly what lead me to discover all of the things that I know. I wouldn't have traveled the world if I didn't follow what I wanted to do." She brings her arm down and rests a hand over Dan's. "And by the way? It doesn't matter what you lean closer to, whether that be a dragon or a wolf. You don't need to give up Ari because you have a dragon. You don't need to suddenly name your dragon if you don't feel ready. You will always be both a Stark and a Targaryen, no matter where you look to."

Dan smiles at her. "Thank you, Aunt Arya…that really means a lot."

"You're welcome." She embraces the girl with one arm again, pulling her close, but a sudden squealing causes both of their heads to turn at the angry face of Mae, and the laughing face of Zaevar.

"Zaevar!" she yells angrily as she brushes flour that they had just flown at her on him. "You're so going to get it!"

"Oh, what are you going to do? Knife me?" Zaevar laughs.

Mae grabs the sack of flour and comes running, and her brother starts to run away, clearly terrified for what she was about to do. Gendry stared in utter shock as Nesara clung to him, watching in amusement.

"Then again," Arya states as Zaevar curses, flour being thrown onto him. "I think children can wait for a long time."

Dan laughs, nodding. Maybe they could.

It took them longer than anyone thought was necessary considering there were at least three flour fights in-between while baking the bread, but eventually the soup, as well as the dessert, was done. Arya and Gendry had left to let the children bring the food up to their mother, so they could have some alone time with her.

Dan was holding the canister of soup, and Daemon the bin of banana bread. When they go to her chambers, Dan knocks gently on the door. Instead of hearing Daenerys' voice come through the cracks, it was instead opened and revealed the face of Eleana.

Her eyes go straight to the soup. "Oh, you brought food!"

"We wanted to make mother feel a little better," Dan says with a smile. "Is she in there?"

"She's rest-"

"I'm alright, Eleana," comes the tired voice from Daenerys. "Let them in."

Eleana sighs and looks down at Dan. "Your mother has been ailing all day. Try to keep the energy to a low."

"We will, we promise." Eleana opens the door and Dan comes in first, seeing their mother leaning against the bed. Her skin was pale and seemed to be flush with sweat, and her usual braids were undone, leaving her hair down. But she still manages a soft smile at her daughter.

"My children," she says gently. "What is all this?"

"We wanted to make something for you," Dan says, coming over to her side to place the soup next to her. "Father was really busy – did he come back with Kinvara yet?"

"No…I imagine he's still dealing with the Free Cities representatives…you made all of this for me?"

Dan blushes and looks over at Mae. "Well, she made the soup. We sort of helped, but she knew the recipe. The bread…Gendry actually helped us make it."

Daenerys' brow raises. "Gendry Baratheon? Really?"

"Apparently he knew a really good banana bread recipe that he could help us with – even though some of us got into a war in the kitchen," Daemon points out, his gaze moving to the still flour-covered children in front of them. Mae and Zaevar roll their eyes.

"He started it!"

"No, she did!"

Daenerys chuckles and shakes her head. "It doesn't matter who started what – this all looks delicious. Thank you for making this for me. That's very sweet of all of you."

Nesara climbs up onto the bed from where she stood, looking at Daenerys. "Are you going to be okay, mama?"

Daenerys offers her a sweet smile. "I'm going to be fine, sweetling. Just something is passing through me…but I'm sure this food will make me feel all the better." She pats the bed next to her. "Come, all of you sit with me. I can't eat all of this myself." Nesara snuggles up against her while Dan takes her other side. Daemon, Zaevar, and Mae sit across from her. "Eleana, make sure no one disturbs us, alright?"

Eleana nods, giving a warning glance to Dan to keep the energy low. And she would try to for the sake of her mother.

Once Eleana was gone and the door was closed, Dan watched as her mother began to slowly eat the soup, while the other children began to talk with her about what they had done. Daemon spoke of the lessons he had been learning in trying to get his healing back to its full extent, and that the red priests had said he was making great progress.

Zaevar talked about their lessons with fire recently, and how they discovered that when the sun was out, their powers were stronger, but when it set, they weakened to an extent. Zaevar had politely put it as 'we rise with the sun.' Which Dan thought sounded a bit pretentious. But who was she to really talk about that?

Mae talked all about her sword training, from her time with Dan and her brother, as well as Daemon, to practicing with father. He had even said she was getting better each day and said that she felt she would be able to fight alongside them soon.

But, once all the talking was done, and the soup had been emptied by all five, and half the bread was gone – mainly due to Nesara eating most of it – most of the children were tired. Nesara mentioned something about the book that Eleana had been reading to her before, and Daenerys told her to go and get it.

Nesara ran off, giddy as ever, before racing back into the room and snuggling back up against Daenerys. She takes the book into her hands and begins to read, the whole group of children listening. Dan rests her head on the woman's shoulder, looking down at the words as she did, a fairytale of some sort.

Sooner or later, Nesara was asleep. But what shocked Dan was that the other four had fallen asleep as well. Mae against Nesara's leg. Daemon was laying on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed. And Zaevar had been resting on the end, his head against the furs. Daenerys closes the book and looks down at Dan. "And you haven't fallen asleep?"

Dan shrugs. "I wasn't very tired…but your voice is soothing. It makes people want to fall asleep."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Daenerys chuckles a bit before placing the storybook to the side and wrapping the fur around Nesara. Dan watches her, noticing how even her movements seemed weak right now.

"You're not…dying, are you?" Daenerys turns her head back to look at her, her brow furrowed. "I mean, I know you said 'no' so you could calm down Nesara but if you are…I want you to tell us."

Daenerys grabs the girl's hand. "Trust me, if I was, you and your siblings would be the first ones to know besides Jon. I would never keep something like that from you." Dan nods, resting again against Daenerys' body. The woman wraps an arm around her, holding her as tight as her weak arms could allow.

"…I love you, you know?" Dan points out softly, looking up at Daenerys. "I don't want you to die because of some cold…it has to be a blaze of glory."

Daenerys snorts. "A blaze of glory?"

"Yeah, like…getting shot down from the sky because of arrows or on the battlefield…the great Daenerys Targaryen can't die because of a cold."

Daenerys squeezes her. "Or, she could die with her children surrounding her, and she would be the happiest woman alive." Dan stares at her in shock while Daenerys shakes her head. "Don't worry, I'm not saying that's going to happen. I'm only saying just because you live your life being a fighter doesn't mean you have to die like one. Many people wish to go peacefully."

Dan sighs and nods. "I know they do. And it's the right thing…I've just grown up with this sort of…image of you. You and father, honestly. I can already feel that people are talking about how you really died in that throne room…"

Daenerys waves her hand dismissively. "Let them gossip and talk about whatever they want to their whims. We don't concern ourselves with those opinions because we know what is the truth…remember that, whenever anyone tries to question who you are."

Dan smiles a bit, nodding. "I will." She leans her head back against Daenerys and glances up at the balcony as her dragon suddenly appears, perching itself on the banister. "I think I've finally figured out what I would like to name my dragon."

Daenerys looks down at her. "For the love of all the gods, please tell me it is better than Scalely."

Dan laughs. "It's better than Scalely, for sure." She smiles as the cream-colored dragon flys over to her shoulder, landing squarely on her exposed skin from her shirt. "I'm going to name her Vēzos."

"The Valyrian word for sun?" Daenerys asks her. "Why?"

"Well, it sounds cool, for first, and second…we could all use a little light in our lives after everything we've gone through. And the sun brings light. So, she can be my little light, or my little sun."

The grin that spreads across her mother's lips was enough to make Dan smile as well. "I think that's a beautiful name," she whispers softly to her, pulling her in for a hug. "A wonderful name." She runs her fingers through Dan's hair, letting out a slow breath, and Dan responds with an even tighter hug. When she pulls back, Daenerys raises an eyebrow. "You've been learning more Valyrian?"

"Well, when you have to chant it to get the fire within me to ignite, you sort of have to learn it. Besides, we can't all be bestowed the sudden ability to speak it like father can."

"That is true," Daenerys states. "But you and he are on the same level on one subject – speaking Dothraki."

Dan laughs. "He sounds like a muffled fish when he attempts to! How is he going to be a Khal if he can't speak it that well?"

"Oh, be quiet, he's trying," Daenerys chuckles a little. "No one can adapt as quickly as me. It'll take time."

Dan shakes her head, but the grin does not leave her lips. Her little dragon lies at the end of the bed now, resting its head on the furs. As soon as its eyes close, Dan looks up at Daenerys. "I like it here. A lot. I didn't think I would when I sailed with you but…I'm so glad we did."

Daenerys leans down and presses her lips to Dan's forehead. "I'm glad you did too, my sweetling." She runs her fingers through Dan's hair once more, the gesture starting to lure the girl to sleep. "Rest, my little dragon. You and the others worked hard. You deserve to close your eyes."

And so, she does. Her lids begin to shut, and her breathing begins to slow, before darkness overtook her into its peaceful embrace, the warm arms of Daenerys keeping her close.

Wow this ended a lot more fluffier than I thought it would but well we all love the children, don't we?

So yeah, that's what's going on across the world, and soon enough the worlds will collide in a big bang because honestly, we've all be waiting for that, haven't we? Things are about to get a lot more complicated haha I've been wanting to include the traitors (as I call them) in this story for a while now so hopefully this first reveal suits everyone's requests. We'll get into Jon's POV and what's going on with him with the Free Cities as well as Kinvara in the next chapter!

As always, love it? Hate it? Want to burn down my home like Daenerys did to the Red Keep because it was that bad? Let me know in the reviews, as they always keep me writing and pushing out these chapters as quickly as I can. They really do make my day and I love that people have been enjoying this as much as I have been writing it, so thank you again - you are all so awesome! Don't forget to follow or favorite if you would like to join us on our adventure, and I will see you all in the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day! Wash your hands and stay healthy!