The Worth of Ash
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Game of Thrones or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights are the sole property of George R.R Martin, HBO, and their various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Here she was, on yet another ship. Kyren was tired of traveling by sea. She had spent only a handful of weeks with her feet on land over the past months and, while this last experience with land had been far more pleasant than the last, those experiences had been less than peaceful... not that her time aboard ships had been much less fraught with tension.
"Hello, Kyren," Ser Davos greeted cheerfully, approaching to stand beside her on the deck.
"Hello," Kyren returned absently. She envied him his utter love of the sea. He had revealed to her that he was once a smuggler and that it was how he had known Salladhor Saan. From everything he had said, the Onion Knight had never been happier than when the waves were surging beneath him. Even now, the lines on his face were less apparent and there was joy in his eyes as he surveyed the horizon.
He deserved the peace, she told herself. His son had died in Stannis Baratheon's attack on King's Landing and she privately believed that Davos blamed himself. His wife had killed herself upon hearing the news and Kyren knew for a fact that Davos blamed himself for her death. If the sea brought him peace, so much the better for him.
"We should arrive at Dragonstone by tomorrow morning," Davos said, then added with a grin, "Do you think Jon will have anything left to wear when he gets his audience with the queen?"
Kyren snorted, thoroughly broken out of her reverie. "I doubt it. Maybe she will greet him from far enough away that she won't be able to smell him?"
Poor Jon had not been blessed with Davos's easy way with ships and sailing. Since the moment they had left their port in the North, he had been sick. Though they had taken great pains to keep a number of containers handy for these expellations, Jon had managed to stain nearly every article of clothing that had been brought along.
Davos chortled, clapping a weathered hand on her shoulder. "We'll find something for the lad to wear, no doubt about it."
"I should hope so," Kyren said, abruptly pulled back into her introspection. "With what he plans to tell her, we will be fortunate if the Dragon Queen allows us to leave her castle alive."
"That isn't how diplomacy is done," Davos told her in his rumbling accent. "We're far more use to her alive and potentially on her side than dead with the entire North turned against her. I know it doesn't look it, but we're going into this meeting with just as much power as she is."
"And three less dragons," Kyren pointed out.
"Fewer."
"What?" She shook her head. "Less, fewer… either way, we may have had as much power if we met somewhere else, army to army, but look who Jon has brought. A handful of guards, an advisor who fought for another king until a short time ago, and a peasant girl who his father adopted. We're hardly a match for her Unsullied army alone, never mind the dragons."
"Ah, but her Unsullied aren't on Dragonstone. My contacts say-"
"Yes, yes, they're attacking Casterly Rock, I remember," Kyren cut him off with a smile to lessen the rudeness of her words. "I am nervous regardless."
"You?" Davos asked. "I haven't gotten a proper night's sleep this whole voyage."
Kyren eyed him incredulously. "Surely you jest! Your snoring shakes the timbers of the ship every night. I should fear for my ears to hear you get a proper night's sleep!"
"Respect for one's elders is a pleasure to the gods," Davos informed her seriously, though his eyes were twinkling.
"I believe they will consider my offense to be a small balm to the offense given by your snoring."
"I don't have to stand here and listen to this," Davos claimed, shooting a mock glare at her. "I have to go help the cook prepare the fish for tonight's supper. Maybe we'll leave a few bones in yours."
Kyren only laughed and was soon left alone once more at her spot on deck.
She truly had not wanted to accompany Jon on his mission to see the Dragon Queen. After just having arrived at Winterfell, she had been reluctant to leave once more, especially on so hopeless a mission as this one promised to be. In the end, however, Jon had appealed to her sense of logic. He could not bring a great number of guards along and had only Davos to protect him. There was little reason for Kyren to remain at Winterfell as Sansa had Brienne to guard her. Baelish had been warned to leave her alone. The final stroke had been when Jon stared down at Kyren with dark, expressive eyes - eyes that once earned him mocking from Robb and Theon - and asked her simply to trust him. There was no arguing with that. Kyren did trust him, but held no such feeling for the Dragon Queen.
It was not until after she had boarded the ship that she realized she should have remained behind to keep an eye out for whatever poor soul Jaqen was waiting to see, as well as be sure he would not cause any mischief.
Kyren's one true regret, however, was leaving Sotam behind. He had been such a constant companion that she felt his absence like she would if her daggers were missing, but had refused to bring him along when Jon had offered. She gave the excuse that Sotam would be happier in the North with grass to graze and other horses to run with, but in truth, she was far from certain that she would ever be allowed to leave Dragonstone. Even if her loyalty to the Starks meant that Kyren was obligated to go to her death, there was no good reason that Sotam should have to meet the same fate.
"Kyren, the king has asked to speak with you," one of the crew hands told her, retreating with a friendly nod when she agreed. She had earned the respect of the small crew by stepping in and helping when needed, drawing deeply on her meager experience and the instructions of Davos.
She took a deep breath before entering Jon's room so she could breathe shallowly once inside, but it didn't help. The stink of sickness lay thick in the room and Jon sat pale in his bunk, surrounded by containers that sloshed horribly. The single manservant Jon had brought along scurried around the room, retrieving the filled containers and taking them away, presumably to be emptied. Jon told him not to return and the man gave a shallow bow before closing the door softly.
"We need to talk strategy," Jon said feebly.
"Are you certain you are capable of thinking strategically at the moment?" Kyren asked candidly. "You've been sick for the entirety of the voyage. We can make plans when we arrive at Dragonstone tomorrow morning, before departing the ship."
"That isn't enough time," he told her, as firmly as he was able. "We accepted the offer of the Targaryen Dragon Queen to come and swear loyalty, but I have no intention of swearing the North into the keeping of a woman who could be as mad as her father was. I know you think I don't take the danger of coming here seriously, but I do."
"Then why come here at all, Jon? I know you say she may be able to help with the threat to the north, but surely it isn't so dangerous as an army of Unsullied and three dragons?"
Jon sighed and rubbed at his scarred eyebrow. "It is far more dangerous than that. The only chance we have at fighting them is if she agrees to help."
"And if she does not?" Jon stared at her, frustration plain on his face, but Kyren refused to back away from her question. "Well? You wanted to strategize and this is a possibility. If she refuses to help in this fight, what will we do?"
"Return to Winterfell and die among family," Jon said heavily. "Kyren, there is no fighting these things. You cannot kill what is already dead. If Daenerys Targaryen refuses to aid us, the white walkers and their armies will kill every living soul in Westeros."
"Then we'd better figure out a way to convince her," Davos interrupted, pushing the door open so he could enter. He bowed to Jon. "Apologies, my king. I only just received your summons. It seems the crew on this ship are afraid of the smell of fish being cleaned."
Jon paled at that, taking on a greenish hue so rapidly that Kyren passed him an empty container without delay. As he set earnestly to filling it, Kyren exchanged a look with Davos. Their survival and that of the Seven Kingdoms depended on the way they handled the reportedly-difficult Targaryen. This meeting would last through the night if necessary.
Kyren cast her gaze around the room with a sigh. "We're going to need more containers."
Early the next afternoon, Jon, Davos, and Kyren set ashore, along with a small party of soldiers. They were armed with a plan, Longclaw, and Kyren's daggers, but little else. They had been warned in advance that the Dragon Queen did not much care for others bringing weapons into her court, so they had kept armaments to a bare minimum.
They had expected to be greeted, as was custom, but Kyren privately believed that this was the first diplomatic journey to be greeted by a handful of Dothraki warriors - at least, without immediately meeting their death. Two non-Dothraki stood on the beach as well: a pretty Essosi woman and an extremely short man who Kyren recognized immediately. His gaze, however, was intent on Jon.
"The bastard of Winterfell," he greeted insultingly.
Kyren stiffened at the slur, but Jon merely returned, "The dwarf of Casterly Rock."
The two stared each other down for a tension-fraught moment before breaking out in smiles and greeting each other with a startling amount of fondness. She hadn't realized that the two bonded so closely during their time spent at the Wall.
Tyrion introduced himself to Ser Davos next. They spoke briefly about the Battle of Blackwater Bay before Tyrion gave a short introduction of the Essosi woman, Missandei, who was apparently a trusted advisor of the queen.
Missandei spoke eloquently, welcoming them on behalf of Daenerys Targaryen before requesting that they remove their weapons and give them to the Dothraki. Jon agreed and, with some grumbling, the soldiers behind them gave theirs over as well.
One Dothraki male approached Kyren, scanning her up and down once for weapons, a second in apparent shock over the discrepancy between her clothing and her gender, then a final time with eyes full of appreciative consideration. "No weapons," she told him, voice tight with displeasure at his disrespect.
"Kyren," Jon said warningly.
"Oh, yes," she said with a feigned laugh, unbuckling the forearm sheath with chilled fingers and slipping it out from under her sleeve. She handed the carefully-wrought dagger and its warmed leather sheath over to the Dothraki man, meeting the abruptly-suspicious gaze of Missandei with a commiserating shrug. "It is a dangerous world for a woman."
"Why, Kyren Asheworth," Tyrion said, startled into a chuckle. "I hadn't expected to see you here. Still throwing daggers?"
Before she could answer, Missandei asked sharply, "You know a large number of our guests, Lord Tyrion. Is Westeros such a small place?"
"It certainly seems so at times," Tyrion replied easily, unbothered by her biting tone. "Kyren, we shall have to share stories before you depart. I must know all that has happened since I saw you last."
"I am curious at these circumstances as well," Kyren said, carefully admitting her surprise at his new position.
He nodded once in acknowledgment of her veiled comment. "Shall we go in? The queen awaits."
The journey into the castle was long, longer with the dragons constantly swooping down on them from above. They had been forced on multiple occasions to duck against the sun-warmed stones of the path in a bid to avoid the flexed talons of the scaled beasts and Kyren had rapidly tired of the novelty of dragons.
"She does wish us to come inside, does she not?" Kyren asked irritably on one such occasion.
"If she did not, she would have burnt your ship in the bay before you ever set foot on land," Missandei told her with a self-satisfied expression. Kyren didn't know why; they were not her dragons.
When they were at last shown into the throne room, Kyren could not help but note how empty it was. She had not expected the bustling court she had seen in King's Landing, but surely a queen with so many armies should have more than a few Dothraki guards, an announcer, and a Hand. To that note, Kyren had yet to see these infamous armies. Certainly, they had been greeted by a small number of Dothraki warriors, but the Dragon Queen was said to have thousands of Unsullied soldiers. Anyone with a head for strategy would have advised against sending all one's forces against a single target, even if that target was Casterly Rock.
The queen herself matched all the stories that Kyren had heard - few as they had been with her extensive travels. She was short in stature, slender, and ethereally beautiful with the visual shock of her white hair. She made a dramatic statement, sitting against the dark stone of the asymmetrical throne on its dais. She looked every inch the Targaryen savior of the Seven Kingdoms and, judging from the long list of titles faithfully recited by Missandei, considered herself to be exactly that.
The queen did not enjoy Ser Davos's steadfast refusal to allow Jon's title of King in the North to be ignored, nor did she appreciate Jon's unwillingness to bend the knee. Her pleasant face froze into a mask when Jon stated bluntly that he would not swear the North to her.
"You've traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?" she asked, melodious voice pitched low enough to be forbidding.
"Break faith?" Jon repeating, disbelief heavy in his voice, though Kyren stood too close behind him to see if the feeling was mirrored on his face. "Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms if he had not been stabbed in the back by a man who had sworn to protect him. If your father could not keep the faith of his own Kingsguard, why should anyone be expected to hold their vows to him in such stead that their children owe him loyalty?"
From her vantage point, tucked slightly behind Jon's broad shoulder, Kyren smirked at the handy dismantling of Daenerys Targaryen's demand for old vows to be upheld. Unfortunately, the expression seemed to draw the queen's attention.
"And who is the final member of this Northern party?" she asked coldly.
Tyrion cleared his throat. "Kyren Asheworth, your grace."
"Kyren Asheworth," the queen repeated, sounding unimpressed. "Tell me, Kyren: what special skills and experience permit you to sit in on deliberations of this sort and judge them?"
"None at all, your grace," Kyren admitted freely. "I am here because my king asked me to be. Nothing else would bring me."
"Is that so? Well, tell me, Jon Snow: why is Kyren Asheworth here?"
"I trust her. She was the person who knew my father the best outside of his immediate family. I trust her to speak with his voice, in his absence."
Kyren fought to keep her composure, but her throat tightened at the explanation of her presence here. She grew abruptly and shockingly ashamed of the way she had behaved up to this point. Lord Stark would surely have acted with more grace and decorum.
The queen seemed far less impacted by the admission than Kyren was. "Very well. As the voice of Lord Eddard, do you agree that Jon owes me no fealty?"
"Yes, your grace, that is correct," Kyren said simply, drawing herself up to her full height.
"And why is that? Do the Great Houses of Westeros no longer abide by the vows of their fathers?"
Kyren puffed out a breath at the implied insult, but gathered her thoughts as best she could. "In all honesty, your grace, I believe it to be in your best interest not to ask Jon to uphold those vows."
The queen froze on her rough-hewn throne and Tyrion leaned forward slightly. "What does that mean, Kyren?"
"There are many phrases and sayings about House Targaryen, few of them complimentary in nature," Kyren said slowly, trying to pick an inoffensive way of forming her thoughts into a cohesive argument. "If you truly wish to rule Westeros, your grace, perhaps it would be better to rule through your own merits rather than making claim to oaths sworn to those from whom you wish to distance yourself. Be a queen of the people, as it were. We've all heard of your successes in Essos, ruling where the Targaryen name means little. Do not allow Cersei to claim your support is due only to ancient oaths and misplaced honor."
Tyrion looked to be considering her advice, but disdain flickered in the pale eyes of the queen. "Are you Jon Snow's Hand?" she asked, voice falsely kind.
"No, your grace."
"A dignitary, then, well-versed in the ways of politics?"
"No, I am not."
The lightness of her tone dropped abruptly into harshness. "Then in the future, you should confine your advice to Jon Snow. If you truly speak with the honorable Ned Stark's voice, I care little for what he says."
Jon's shoulders tensed and Kyren rested a gentling hand on his back even as Tyrion said quietly, "My queen…"
Daenerys visibly paused to gather herself and when she spoke once more, everything about her was softly beseeching. "My father was an evil man, Jon Snow. On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family and I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father."
Tyrion beamed like a proud parent beside her as the queen launched into an invitation of peace and partnership between House Targaryen and House Stark, with her as queen and Jon as Warden in the North. Dimly, Kyren wondered if she truly believed the people of the North would allow themselves to be governed by anyone other than Jon Snow.
The Dragon Queen's offer was immediately proven false when Jon refused once more and began the warning about the Night King that they had so carefully prepared the previous night. Rather than listen as even Lord Stark would have - despite how little he would have believed the story - she diverted the topic to her life and how she had battled to the place she currently occupied.
"Do you know what kept me standing all those years in exile?" she concluded, eyes gleaming with the light of a fanatic. "Faith. Not in any gods, not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen."
While the queen continued, speaking of the wonder of her dragons, Kyren could not stifle a wince. Disparaging the gods was a mistake, one almost as grave as disregarding them altogether. All that the woman had achieved could be brought crashing to the stones beneath their feet if the gods felt they were not being given their due, and they clearly were not.
Ser Davos, to his credit, was far from cowed by the headstrong queen. He defended Jon fervently, speaking with eloquence about how Jon's title was dependent on no birthright and Kyren felt a surge of pride in her friend. Davos stopped speaking only when Jon cut him off with a sharp look. Took a knife in the heart for his people? Kyren mused silently on the last thing Davos had said. She had yet to hear that story, but surely it was an exaggeration, a tale told to make the King in the North appear even greater than he was? No one could be stabbed in the heart and survive. It was impossible.
"If it doesn't matter, then you might as well kneel," Tyrion cut in, clearly attempting to sound reasonable. "Swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys, help her defeat my sister, and together, our armies will protect the North."
Kyren stared at Tyrion in surprise. Surely he knew how important this was. Why did he deliberately try to keep Jon from drawing the queen's attention to the real issues? Tyrion glanced at her once, then studiously away as Jon refused once more.
"By declaring yourself king of my northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion," the queen said darkly, but before she could make a threat in earnest, she was interrupted by Varys. Kyren could only watch him in surprise - when had he left King's Landing? - but he paid her no attention.
An obviously-unsettled queen dismissed them shortly after, inviting them to their rooms to bathe and eat. When Jon, ever-direct, asked if they were prisoners, her response was less than reassuring:
"Not yet."
A Dothraki male led them from the throne room, the same one who had taken such an inappropriate interest in Kyren on the beach - Mhorgo, the queen had called him. With a silent gesture, Jon had Ser Davos follow the Dothraki directly while he and Kyren fell back slightly.
"Do you still have your corset?" Jon asked lowly.
The petty part of Kyren was tempted to ignore him. After all, if she had done things Jon's way, she would have left her corset on the ship and they would be well and truly without weapons. However, her pragmaticism overpowered the bitterness inside her and she nodded. "I am never without it."
"Good," he said simply. He might have added more, but they had arrived at what seemed to be the guest wing of Dragonstone and Ser Davos was given the first room. The smuggler stepped into the room easily enough, but turned to make solemn eye contact with Kyren. Understanding his soundless request, Kyren stepped toward Mhorgo with a dazzling smile.
"Tell me, ser," she said, then cut herself off as she 'tripped', regaining her balance by grasping the man's bicep and forearm. She took her time standing up, making a great deal of eye contact and forcing a giggle. "My apologies."
He helped her stand by wrapping his hands around her hips, thankfully too low to feel the daggers sheathed in the corset beneath her billowing shirt, and was slow to draw away. She had no way of knowing if she had bought Jon and Davos enough time for a conversation, but Kyren had stretched her time with Mhorgo far longer than she felt comfortable. His dark gaze was already calculating and she did not wish to find what role she filled in his estimation. She had an uncomfortable suspicion it was something close to 'whore'.
Jon, bless him, seemed to sense her discomfort. He stepped up beside her with a firm look and rested a hand familiarly on her shoulder. "We may continue."
Kyren's quarters were next and Jon gave a significant look before she closed herself in. "I shall see you soon, Kyren."
"My king," she acknowledged with a deep nod.
She ate the simple meal of roast chicken and root vegetables carefully, searching for any hint of poison, but found none. The bath was welcome and she luxuriated in it, but it was only a short time after night fell that she crept from her chamber and moved into the stone-lined hall.
"What're you doing out here?"
Kyren started violently and turned to glare at Ser Davos. "I could ask you the same."
"I plan to meet with our king and discover just how he intends to move forward. Was your door left unlocked?"
With a quiet scoff, Kyren shook her head. "The day this simple castle locks stymie me is the day I deserve to lose my head. They locked yours as well?"
"They did, but any smuggler worth his salt knows how to pick a lock." Davos turned and peered down the dim hallway. "Any idea where Jon might be?"
"I was hoping you knew," Kyren admitted softly. "There are only a handful of doors in this area. Let us start the search."
"You only need bother with the locked doors," Davos reminded logically and they set to work.
They found Jon's chambers set some distance down the hall, but easily within sight. It was indeed locked.
"Would you like to do the honors?" Kyren whispered, tugging lightly at the door handle.
"Please, go ahead. I'd like to see the techniques of the next generation."
Kyren removed the blunted slender wand from the back of her corset, Davos averting his eyes until the hem of her shirt settled back into place. She placed it into the lock, gave an expert twist, and struck the end of the handle. With a loud click! the door handle moved easily.
"A little rough," Davos commented, moving forward. "Remind me and I'll teach you how to open a lock without breaking it."
Kyren shrugged and pushed the door open. Jon stood ready, brandishing a knife that he had clearly stolen from his dinner platter, but dropped the meager weapon when he saw them. "I wondered how long it would be before you joined me."
"Couldn't pick the lock, eh?" Davos asked with a grin.
"Teasing the king is treason," Jon warned seriously, but his dark eyes were smiling.
"What do we try from here?" Kyren asked, anxious to get to the heart of the business. "How do we refuse the queen and still retain our freedom?"
Jon's face was serious once more. "It is far more serious than our freedom. We must try to gain access to her dragonglass if we have any hope of surviving the winter."
"Can we find the dragonglass and take some now?" Kyren asked. "I sense - from everything that was said earlier - that she may not be willing to help us in exchange for nothing, which is exactly what we can afford to give her."
"That would be a mistake," Davos told her sternly. "If we hold out hope for any sort of diplomacy, we cannot attempt to steal from the queen. We cannot even risk being seen outside of our rooms without losing any chance at a compromise."
"Kyren is right," Jon disagreed. "There is little hope that the Dragon Queen will offer us aid for nothing more than preventing the end of Westeros. Until she rules, she seems not to care about what evils could befall the Seven Kingdoms. She clearly did not believe that the White Walkers exist, let alone that they are a threat to the safety of the people."
Even as Davos protested, Jon stood and strode purposefully to the door. "We need to find the dragonglass."
As Jon and Davos closed the door carefully behind them, Kyren walked around the hall, systematically locking every door before breaking the locks.
"Kyren, what are you doing?" Davos asked wearily.
"If we are caught, we can claim that the doors were unlocked and we did not know we weren't to leave. For all the queen knows, the doors in this hall were damaged by Stannis before she claimed control of Dragonstone."
Davos shook his head and began walking down the hall. "This way. The dragonglass deposits lie beneath the King- the Queen's strategy room."
As they drew closer to the place Ser Davos insisted held the island's dragonglass, it became apparent that there was an emergency meeting taking place. There had been a major setback for the Targaryen takeover of Westeros.
"Half our allies are dead!" the queen snapped sharply. "The Sand Sisters are gone, the Greyjoys are gone, and we are no closer to seizing control of Casterly Rock! What is worse, Varys has received reports that Lannister troops are moving on Highgarden! Tell me exactly, Lord Tyrion, just why it is that I should remain calm?"
"Because your allies are still too great to be numbered," Tyrion reminded.
"Truly? Because I could not even convince Jon Snow - a member of a Targaryen ally family for centuries - to join my cause!"
"Perhaps the trouble with your message is in the delivery, your grace." Varys's smooth tone was gentle, but Kyren still winced, prepared for the worst.
"Get out, both of you." Silence. "Out, now!"
The door opened and Tyrion stepped into the hall. Jon, Davos, and Kyren pressed against the nearest wall as closely as was possible to avoid being seen by the queen, but Tyrion spotted them immediately.
He stepped toward them, hissing, "What in the name of the Seven are you doing? She could demand your heads for this!"
Jon straightened. "I will not be made a prisoner!"
Kyren sighed and mentally amended her plan to claim they had not known they weren't to leave their quarters.
"Then you will be made a corpse!" Tyrion returned heatedly. "Why did you accept her invitation if you had no plans to bend the knee?"
Before Jon could answer, Varys left the room and closed the door behind himself. It took only a moment for him to catch sight of the party and half that to control his expression of surprise. "Jon Snow. I had not expected to find you here, your grace. Nasty disregard of diplomacy, would you not agree? I am only surprised that the honorable Ser Davos Seaworth did not prevent you from taking such a drastic step."
"Perhaps we should move away from this spot," Tyrion said, casting a nervous glance at the door behind Varys.
"Quite," Varys agreed. "Lead on, my friend."
Tyrion walked back the way they had come, toward the guest quarters. Jon trailed him closely with Davos following behind. At the back of the group, Varys leaned a touch closer to Kyren so he could murmur, "Kyren Asheworth. I've been keeping watch over your deeds for quite some time."
"Varys," Kyren returned with a slight bow of her head. "I heard you fled Westeros as a traitor."
"A traitor to the crown, perhaps, but never to Westeros."
Kyren made no attempt to respond, thinking of everything she had seen of the Dragon Queen's actions. Cersei was undeniably bad for the Seven Kingdoms, but she could not see how Daenerys Targaryen would be a better prospect.
Tyrion led them directly back to Jon's chamber and did not speak until they were all inside. "What were you thinking to leave here? To listen in on a private meeting of the Queen's small council? It could have meant your death, or, at very least, the queen's immediate denial of any requests for aid this coming winter."
"Do you truly believe she plans to offer any aid whatsoever?" Jon returned.
"I believe… she could be convinced," Tyrion said after a significant pause.
Jon scoffed. "You'll have to forgive me if I refuse to stake the life of every Westerosi on the potential benevolence of a Targaryen."
"I can hardly promise anything!" Tyrion replied, obviously frustrated. "You are the one who accepted an invitation to bend the knee, refused to do so, and insulted the queen!"
"She isn't a queen!" As if the room itself were stunned by Jon's vehement assertion, everything fell silent. He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "At this point, Daenerys Targaryen is little more than a foreign invader. She has a kingdom in Essos, but she left that in pursuit of a better one. She hasn't said a word about the people she intends to rule, only the obstacles in her way. Those are not the traits of a ruler, but a conqueror."
"Robert Baratheon spoke in a similar way," Varys reminded.
"And see how that turned out," Jon said. "Do you support Daenerys's claim to the Iron Throne because she is the best candidate or because she is the only one?"
"She is better than Cersei," Tyrion told him firmly and Varys nodded his agreement.
"Cersei is as mad as the Mad King was said to be," Kyren interjected. "Very few would be worse suited to the position than she is, but that is no specific recommendation."
"At the moment, Daenerys is the best chance we have of wresting the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei's control," Varys said plainly.
"Perhaps if you attempted to know Daenerys, you would come to see why she has the support she does," Tyrion suggested.
"Very well," Jon said heavily. "Tomorrow, I will make an effort to know the Dragon Queen."
"That is all we ask." Despite the blank expression on his face, Tyrion's voice betrayed his gratitude and relief.
Even as the tension in the room fell, Kyren couldn't help her sense of nervousness. There seemed very little to recommend Daenerys as queen and quite a bit standing between her and the Iron Throne. While Jon attempted to understand the woman herself on the following day, Kyren plotted that she would gather information from the servants around Dragonstone.
Author's Note - As always, I hate simply transcribing the dialogue from the episodes, so there was a bit of skipping around in this chapter. I focused a lot more on Kyren's thoughts rather than the debates between Jon and Daenerys. I know the Dany fans probably didn't like this chapter very much and I'm sorry! I loved her character up until this episode, where she came off really condescending. However - as I said several chapters ago - we're getting more and more into the AU plot. You'll start seeing shifts from the television show plot as we move forward into the events of the last two seasons.
We finally broke the string of no reviews! HUGE thanks to unmajestically and CharNinja LOL for the compliments and feedback! Both of you are amazing!
I would love to hear from the rest of you as well! For now, thanks for reading and have a great day - and a happy new year!