Rated M, here's SOME of the mild smut I promised.
Pleasant it was… To lie amid some sylvan scene, where, the long drooping boughs between,
Shadows dark and sunlight sheen alternate come and go…
Beneath some patriarchal tree I lay upon the ground; His hoary arms uplifted he…
And all the broad leaves over me clapped their hands in glee, with one continuous sound;—
A slumberous sound, a sound that brings the feelings of a dream…
And dreams of that which cannot die, bright visions, came to me…
Dreams that the soul of youth engage ere Fancy has been quelled…
And, loving still these quaint old themes, even in the city's throng
I feel the freshness of the streams that, crossed by shades and sunny gleams,
Water the green land of dreams, the holy land of song.
from Prelude to the Voices of the Night by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Daenerys
æ
The Iron Throne was hers. The chair had remained mostly unscathed in the trap set for her in the throne room and though it was hardly comfortable, when she sat in it she knew it was where she was meant to be.
The kingdom however, remained divided.
She ruled in the South, but still she had to settle the Greyjoys on their islands, the Stormlands were mostly deserted though she knew she had to find a loyal lord to guard it, for now it could wait. The Crownlands were occupied as thats where half her army had landed, making it a safe place for her dragons to call home. The Westerlands had finally sworn fealty, and the broken but loyal, Jaime Lannister, would return to secure Casterly Rock, until she needed him once more.
Then there was also the matter of the three most northern kingdoms: The Riverlands, The Vale, and The North. And this was by far, her greatest concern. The Tully's held Riverrun and declared for the Starks, and the one they called 'the King in the North', joining the Vale who had declared long before she'd even landed in Westeros. The three combined made up much more than the half that was under her control.
She had little faith in swaying the Tully's, they were related by blood to the lady of Winterfell, half-sister to their king. The lord of house Arryn was a sickly boy called Robin, though the Vale was actually under control of the one they called 'Littlefinger', and though he swore allegiance, he served himself only. The spider had intimated that what Lord Baelish wanted more than anything, was the seat she'd just so recently occupied, and she knew it was best to keep him at arms length, for now.
The key was The North. If they bent the knee, Riverrun would follow and then she could focus on her last silent enemy. As a girl, she'd come to loathe the Starks, knowing they'd been the ones to aid the usurper in overthrowing her father. 'An arrogant, self righteous house' her brother Viserys had said of them. Only by the lips of her newest allies had she heard differently of the Starks and the one they had named king.
'Jon Snow' was his name, and he was the bastard of the honourable Lord Eddard of Winterfell. Lord Varys said he'd never met him, but he'd known his father to be a good and honourable man, and his brother Robb to be a capable strategist and leader, and his younger sister Sansa to be smart and kind.
Tyrion had known Jon when he was a boy, green and naive, but he could tell even then that he was a Stark; brave and noble and true, if not a bit brooding.
She'd heard about all the kingdoms, each strong in its own way, but the North, by all accounts was different than the rest. Bravery and Loyalty ruled in the North, and the people were more interested in the harvest for winter, than riches and fame. As a Targaryen she took what was hers with fire and blood, and commanded obedience and fealty. The Starks ruled with honour and humility, and she had a hard time believing peace would be as easy as Tyrion expected. It seemed more and more likely that she would need to forge a lasting alliance, and the easiest way to accomplish that was through marriage, and not only her own.
First and foremost, she had to deal with the king of the Iron Islands, Euron Greyjoy. Once she secured her sibling allies where she needed them and where they belonged, she would go North.
æ
She'd held the coronation in the ruins of the Throne room, and it did not bother her. She could see her dragons fly over her as they placed the crown upon her head, and the people filling the hall seemed glad of her presence, and she was thankful.
The feast had been held in the gardens where the stars shone overhead, though winter had not yet arrived fully to the capital, the night was cool, but welcome. She retired long before the festivities had ended, and though Missandei offered to assist her, she refused. It was clear the girl had been enjoying herself, and seeing Grey Worm smile for the first time, she dared not pry her away. At Tyrion's insistence, she accepted an escort of 4 unsullied to take her to her room.
Once ensconced, she flicked off her slippers and slid out of her binding black gown into the silk sheets of her bed. She placed the crown at her bedside along with her dragon necklace, and lied down falling fast asleep. It was the first time she'd dreamt of her shadow lover in a long time.
In her dream, she'd been sleeping in a bed though it was not the same one, and the sheets felt heavy above her. She stirred from her sleep, hearing the clack of wood hitting wood and the crackle of the flames consuming them.
Her eyes were still heavy with sleep as she turned her head towards the hearth. She could only see his back as he faced the fire, prodding at the logs with the poker until he was satisfied they were lit then returned the metal rod to its place before sitting in the chair behind him. He did not seem to realize she was awake.
She sat up, and she was not naked but clad in a woollen shift, and though it was warm, she felt chilled the moment the furs fell off her. She was not sure whether to go to him, or remain where she was, and so she simply sat there like a fool, watching him, though she could hardly see more than some of the dark curls that covered his head.
Finally as she decided she'd approach, she slipped out of the furs though she was near frozen already and stood. She moved to him, her steps silenced by the heavy rugs that covered the floor. As she reached his side, she opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was muffled and she didn't know what she said, but he had as he gazed up at her. She saw him clearly for the first time, and it seemed as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he no longer knew what was right anymore.
"What is wrong my love?" She asked, her tone tender and unfamiliar.
His eyes were heavy on her but he did not answer. She placed her hand over his shoulder to offer him some kind of comfort, and in return he slipped his arm around the small of her back and pulled her close. She felt his arms encircle her waist, and his head press against her breast. With her nightgown the only barrier between his skin and hers, she shivered, and it wasn't from the cold.
He seemed to sense this and looked up at her, and gone was his distress, only fire in his eyes. He loosened his grip around her, until his hands rested at her hips and started to crumple her shift as he used his fingers to slip it up. His eyes still bore into hers when she felt his hands, suddenly cool, burn against her skin.
She felt the warmth of her slip leave her as his fingers skimmed up the sides of her thighs and over the curve of her behind. His thumbs grazed the swell of her breasts as he eased the dress over her head and threw it somewhere behind him.
His eyes finally left hers as they raked over her naked body instead. His hands hung at his side, but suddenly he was bringing them up her thighs once more, and then, he was caressing every inch of her, his fingers urgent but tender. When his hands met at her waist, he pulled her down to him so she sat on his lap.
She could feel him hard against the back of her thighs but he only gazed at her. His hands lay inert around her and she wanted nothing more than for them to touch her again.
She did not like the feel of his doublet, though the leather was soft and supple, so she slid her hands to where the laces held it shut. He did not react nor speak as she shifted until she was straddling him, the previous angle uncomfortable to her task. She felt her body heat with desire as she felt him pressed against her, but she only used her fingers and pulled at the cord until it was loose enough. He sat up and lifted his arms, helping her remove it, neither speaking.
Knowing she wanted to feel his skin she took off his tunic and shirt as well, shifting against him as she did so, until he was as bare as she, at least from the waist up. She slid her hands up his chest and then he kissed her as he never had before. He pulled her even closer against him, and she knew he would have had her then and there if not for his trousers.
She rocked against him as his lips trailed down her neck, and then it was not enough, she wanted more, so she brought her hands down to his pants but before she could touch the tie that held them up he covered her hands, stilling her movements.
He pulled away from her then, untangling himself and standing, returning to the hearth as she'd seen him when she woke. She instantly regretted herself, knowing she'd pressed too far too fast. She sat there, feeling chilled though the heat of the fire warmed her skin. She pulled her knees in to cover herself a little, suddenly feeling conscious of her nakedness.
He remained standing there, gazing into the flames, seemingly having forgotten her. Long moments passed before he finally seemed to remember her presence. When he turned to her fully, she could still see the desire in his gaze. It seemed as if he'd come to some sort of realization as he returned bringing with him the heat of the fire, or so it felt.
He did not sit though, instead he hooked one arm under her knees and lifted her into his embrace. He carried her over to her bed, lowering her gently onto the furs so her feet dangled over the edge. Instead of joining her, he knelt onto the ground placing himself between her legs so they were eye to eye. He kissed her once more and she could not help wrapping her thighs around him.
When their lips parted, he pushed her gently back onto the furs. She obliged, though she wanted nothing more than to remain close against him. She bit her lip when she realized what he intended. He lifted her legs, one over each of his shoulders, adjusting her hips slightly before pressing a gentle kiss to her stomach, and then another, each lower...
And then she woke, tangled in her sheets, drenched in sweat, the warm spot between her legs aching. As she reached to soothe herself, she tried hard to remember his face but he was a shadow once more, all she could remember were his eyes. Cold and broken one minute, then burning and wanton the next. She focused on the memory of his hands on her body, and after she found her release, she drifted off to sleep once more, and again she dreamt of him.
Fully sated, he covered them both in her furs, her naked him still in his breeches, and he held her close against him, with her back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around her, she felt his breath on her neck.
She woke the next morning, looking for his arms but then she remembered it was only a dream, and he was not real. There'd been no one in her life since Daario, and she wondered if any man would ever make her feel the way her shadow lover did. She got out of bed feeling doubtful.
æ
Once things in the capital were more settled than not, she decided it was time to embark on Pyke. Luckily, she'd left a quarter of her fleet in the Summer Sea, in case she needed to attack from the West. It seemed she did, though not on Casterly Rock as she'd previously thought.
"You will send a raven to Dorne and order our fleet there to ready their ships and sail up the Sunset Sea."
He seemed to know what her intentions were so he only said, "Who will command the attack?"
With a smirk she replied, "I will, along with Yara and Theon Greyjoy."
This surprised him as she knew it would, but she continued knowing it would not be the last, "You will also send a raven to Casterly Rock and notify your brother Lord Jaime that we will arrive in a fortnight, and the fleet will join us there."
He nodded though he remained silent, so she continued.
"It is my intention for your brother to only negotiate the temporary occupation of the Banefort and Fair Isle. We will attack from their ports."
Again he nodded, but she could tell there was something he wanted to say.
"Spit it out Lord Tyrion," She said seriously.
He did not hesitate.
"As Lord of the Westerlands, Jaime ought to be included in this attack."
She sighed, not entirely surprised by this declaration.
"You might be right, but I do not believe your brother is ready. Nor do I believe the people are ready to see him behind another army."
He grinned with irony, "I can handle the truth your Grace, you need've only said that you do not trust him."
She could not help it as she rolled her eyes and moved over to the decanter, where she poured him a glass of wine. She carried it over without saying anything, trying to find the right words to refuse him. When she handed it to him he took it though he gave her a sardonic look first.
"I do not trust your brother, this is true. But not why you think."
He drank from his proffered cup, and she continued, "I know what it is, to kill your lover, loving them as you do it. As do you in fact. He has only just done this. He is not ready."
He seemed to finally understand as he took one long gulp of his wine before he answered.
"You could ask him, your Grace. At the very least."
a/n: meh. not my best chapter. Also, I'm not a big smut writer, so I can't promise it'll be very lengthy nor that good, though there will be some. thanks for the love, your reviews are what keep me going.
Thanks again!