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-Nine
The sun rose as Kyren and Jaime were escorted through the city. Jaime had lived in King's Landing for a great deal of his adult life, and he had seen it in various conditions. He had witnessed the rebuilding after the dual battery of Aerys the Second and Robert Baratheon, he had seen the crowds thicken after a successful harvest season and shrink in times of drought. He had seen rain storms and sandstorms and winds so strong he thought the Red Keep would topple into the sea, but Jaime had never seen King's Landing covered in snow.
While nearly every winter ravaged the north, there had not been a winter harsh enough to cause snow in southern King's Landing in recent memory. Winters meant cold and chilly rains were far from rare, but the city had not seen snow for over one hundred years.
Jaime had always considered avoiding the worst of winter as a benefit of living in King's Landing. Trudging through knee-deep cold drifts had never been an appealing prospect for him, but he almost regretted the loss now. Coated as it was in ash and soot, King's Landing seemed almost to be covered in snow, but these flakes had held a sickly yellowish-grey hue. The memory of the city covered in the white purity of snow would have been a welcome balm to the sight before him now, for though Jaime's eyes wanted to believe the soft crunching underfoot was snow, he knew that it was ash made up of the buildings, animals, and people who had made up King's Landing before Daenerys's arrival.
Rather than ignore the soft horror of their surroundings, Kyren stared around with disgust and loathing in her eyes. "Seven help us; we did this. We pulled the strings of fate to give her the city and look what she has done to it."
Jaime could not help but agree. He scarcely recognized the streets he had once traveled with familiarity. So changed were his surroundings that he was surprised when they turned a corner and found themselves before what was left of the Red Keep.
The Unsullied and Dothraki soldiers herded them through the remains of the gates and up the grand stairs to the courtyard which marked the entrance to the castle proper. It was filled with people, mostly personal guards to Daenerys, though a small section of the courtyard seemed to be made up of King's Landing citizens. Everywhere Jaime looked, he found that sickly ash covering every surface. Even the citizens and Daenerys's soldiers wore a fine coating of ash and soot.
To the right side of the courtyard, just beside the interior gates and below the second floor balconies, was a heavily guarded fence filled with black-armored men. They were a shock to the eye after all the ash and soot. Somehow, the small crowd of Northmen and Wildlings were the only ones who looked real.
"Jon," Kyren whispered, noticeably relaxing. "She's left Jon alive."
"But why? And for how long?" Jaime muttered back. "He's the biggest threat to her right to rule. Why would she leave him alive?"
Kyren did not respond. What was there to say? Daenerys was behaving strangely, every decision erratic. There was no knowing what she would do from moment to moment and there was little use in speculating.
Jorah was standing at the entrance to the courtyard. When they were brought before him, he gestured toward the corral holding Jon and the Northmen. "She'll want to see to them personally."
Jaime and Kyren were unceremoniously pushed into the fenced area and left to speak with the others inside without interruption. Jaime soon gleaned that these were the malcontents who Daenerys believed to be a threat to her authority. Some choices seemed to assume much - the Wildlings, for instance, likely could not care less who sat on the Iron Throne - but others were true threats. Arya Stark was inside the fence, as were Ser Davos and Tyrion.
Jaime and his brother caught up briefly before the subject turned to their current situation. Jon joined them. "She always told me that she did not want to stop the wheel of succession," Tyrion admitted, seeming weary with his own knowledge. "She wanted to break the wheel."
"That doesn't make sense, does it?" Kyren was clearly striving for logic in a situation possessing very little of it. "To break the wheel would mean to leave Westeros without a ruler. That is not what she wants; she just does not want Westeros to have a ruler other than her."
"Is there no saving her?" Jon asked Tyrion directly, his face drawn into taut lines.
"I- I do not believe so," Tyrion said haltingly. "Every time I attempted to speak with her on the voyage here, she shut me out. She did the same with Varys, threatening both of us if we said something contrary to what she wanted to hear."
"It always starts with shutting out advisors," Jaime's voice was heavy with the memory of Aerys the Second. "In very little time, she will begin burning those who disagree with her."
"Surely not," Jon objected. "There is little reason to say that she would do such a thing."
Kyren laughed joylessly, and Jaime hated to see her parchment eyes so devoid of hope. "Little reason? It is why she has separated us from the others. We are to bend the knee or be burnt, and the people are here to witness it. Few of them remain in the city, but they will be enough to tell the stories of our painful demise."
A hush fell over the huddle; grim, but determined. Whatever else Daenerys managed to accomplish with these people, it seemed that she would never earn their fealty.
Shortly afterward, Daenerys appeared on the balcony just above them, Missandei and Varys by her side while Drogon perched on the battlements behind them. The Spider was restrained in the firm grip of two Unsullied soldiers. Daenerys made a lengthy speech in Valyrian, which earned the applause of her armies, but only the confused stares of the people.
"Whatever impression she was hoping to make, it may be lost to this crowd," Jaime remarked to the nearest man, who happened to be the ginger-haired Wildling, Tormund.
Tormund shouted out a laugh, earning a cool stare from Missandei and no response at all from Daenerys. "Maybe she wanted to show us that she knows how to speak the ugliest language since we killed those fucking Thenns."
Jaime hadn't the slightest idea what a Thenn was, but he had to agree about the language. High Valyrian was just like Valyria had been: pretty sounds disguising horrible deeds. Westeros was not necessarily better, but they acknowledged - sometimes celebrated - the horrible deeds that made up their legacy.
When Daenerys had finally finished her speech, she nodded to the Unsullied, who pulled Varys forward. "This is the traitor, Varys," she announced, clearly addressing the common crowd who were not fluent in High Valyrian. "Varys claimed that he would fight to help me take the Iron Throne. However, he broke his word, attempted to place another on the throne that is rightfully mine."
She turned to speak to Varys directly. "I did not conquer King's Landing because of you, but in spite of you. I owe you nothing but the death of a traitor. But I am a fair queen and will allow you to speak. Have you any words in your own defense?"
Varys's soft-pitched and cultured voice carried on the wind to the crowds gathered below. "I supported you because you were what was best for Westeros. However, you are no longer what is best for anyone. Now, the ruler Westeros deserves stands in the crowd below us. His name is Jon Snow and you seek to discredit him because you fear - you know - that he is the superior choice."
Daenerys smiled. "You would choose a usurper over the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? I have trained, fought, and killed for my right to become the queen. You would trade me, a woman who was born and bred to rule, for the accidental issue of a Stark and a Targaryen?"
"No," Varys denied flatly, and Jaime saw Daenerys take a closer notice of him than she had previously. "I have learned to care little for following the correct bloodlines. The man who watched enemy soldiers throw down their weapons, yet refused to kill them even at the request of his queen? I would gladly follow him over any other ruler, especially the mad daughter of the Mad King."
"A fine speech," Daenerys congratulated him. "Pity that it must also serve as a confession and your final words. Dracarys."
Missandei and Daenerys stepped to the side and allowed Drogon to breathe white-hot flames until Varys had ceased to scream. The latter watched the process with detached interest while the former seemed noticeably unsettled by her vantage point.
When Varys's charred body toppled over the edge of the balcony and landed - still smoking - a short distance from the corral, Daenerys leaned to address the people once more. "Prepare yourselves, my people. We have a number of executions that must take place before we can begin to rebuild."
She disappeared, and Kyren sidled back to stand beside Jaime. "If nothing else, she did not make her point with the people."
He followed her gaze and found that the citizens held across the courtyard displayed a range of emotions; confusion, disgust, anger, and fear being the most prevalent. None of them seemed impressed or inspired in the least by their new queen.
Standing in their unenviable position beside Varys's remains, Jaime and Kyren were the first to notice the newcomer. His dark hair was worn long, though not long enough to require being tied back, and he had trimmed his short beard into a neat style. His clothing was odd, and Jaime's trained eye could discern that much of it was subtly armored.
He toed at Varys with an amused expression. "It seems I've just missed the excitement."
"Who are you?" Jon asked, suspicion clear in his voice as he came to stand beside Kyren.
"Daario Naharis," a voice answered from a different side of the corral. They turned to see Jorah approaching. "What brings you to King's Landing? And why did you creep in here like a common thief when we would have welcomed you as a hero?"
"Habit," Daario returned with a shrug and a smile he likely believed was charming. "Our queen sent a raven, ordering that I sail the Narrow Sea with half of her remaining Unsullied forces to help take King's Landing." He twisted to take in the smoldering, ash-covered scenery and smirked. "Doesn't seem there is much left to take."
Jon's jaw clenched and he stepped forward, seeming ready to fight Daario even as the Dothraki and Unsullied guards moved to prevent his approach. Jorah took no notice, only clapping Daario on the shoulder with a smile. "Come, my friend. I will take you to our queen and you may join us in celebrating her victory."
Daario trailed after Jorah with one final smirk at the weary assembled troops.
When he had gone, Jon said shortly, "I despise that man."
Though there was little in the current situation to find amusing, Jaime and Kyren each let out a surprised bark of laughter.
Daenerys was clearly not a queen who believed in caring for her captives. Kyren and Jaime had been in the godsforsaken corral for the better part of a day without so much as a drop of water, let alone food. For Kyren in particular, it had been several days since she had eaten, as Cersei had not been overly inclined to nourish a prisoner she had intended to watch waste away.
Kyren was sitting on the rough, ash-covered ground of the courtyard, fighting the fatigue that accompanies an extended fast, when Daario Naharis reappeared. He strode through the gates rapidly, picking through the rubble with a dark expression on his handsome face, and had gained the attention of many captive northmen and Wildlings by the time he approached Jon.
When he reached the barrier closest to where Jon stood, Daario vaulted over it and struck Jon in the face without preamble. Automatically, Kyren reached to hold Arya back while Jaime pulled Jon away. Ser Davos kept Daario from attacking Jon further, but the man only shouted at Jon from over Davos's shoulder.
"What have you done to her?" Daario demanded loudly. "You changed her, twisted her! What have you done?"
Davos continued holding him back, but turned to speak in the low, soothing voice he used so well. "Calm down, lad, calm down. We need to know what you're talking about. Take a breath and help us understand."
Daario took a breath, but it seemed far from calming. Instead, he appeared to pull anger from the surrounding air and used it to bolster himself. "When Daenerys Targaryen left Slaver's Bay, she was a queen ready to take on the world to free the peoples who had been enslaved. The queen I served - the queen I loved - would never consider the slaughter of innocents to be a fair price, not even for the destruction of a tyrant. She has changed and it is not for the better. She keeps mentioning your name, Snow."
Jon stopped straining against Jaime's hold, chest heaving with exertion as he pondered that. "I am a Targaryen, the true heir to the throne. I didn't know until a few weeks ago; no one did. I've told her a thousand times that I don't want to rule, but she will not believe me."
"She has changed," Missandei told Daario, having followed him out of the Red Keep. "When the people cried out for Jon Snow, it broke something inside of her. She has called this destruction a fair price for taking a city. Half the destruction you see was done after the people surrendered. She is no longer herself."
"You agree that she has gone mad?" Kyren asked skeptically. Missandei had always been Daenerys's fiercest supporter. It seemed far more likely that the queen had sent her advisor down to scout the captives, suss out their loyalties.
"I never said she was mad," Missandei replied with a displeased expression. "Because her father was, every Westerosi seems happy to admit that she will be as well."
"She burned half a city alive because they dared to prefer another over her," Ayra argued.
"The people do not choose who conquers them," Missandei countered.
"Then she could have taken the throne," Jon said firmly. "By burning people alive and destroying their homes, she has painted herself just that: a conquerer, not the savior she styled herself to be."
"I think she is mad," Daario said, voice flat. "She used to kill only those who had wronged her or others, like the slavers she had crucified in Essos or the leaders of the Sons of the Harpy. But those wrongdoings seem to be growing ever more slight. Will she continue killing those who hurt her by not choosing her rule, by denying even one whim?" He shook his head. "Daenerys is lost. The hope of the world, the breaker of chains, is lost."
Missandei looked as though she longed to argue with his assessment, but only gave a stiff nod. "The queen would certainly not have done these things in Essos, even in Slavers' Bay. Her goal was always to liberate the people, not punish them. That has changed."
"She has changed!" Daario burst out, his first real show of emotion since he had hit Jon. His shoulders slumped. "She was going to save the world."
Missandei stiffened. "She has eyes everywhere. We must return inside or she will suspect us to be plotting against her."
They drew away and the leaders of the northern army began to speak amongst themselves. Kyren found herself standing beside Arya, who wore a foul expression. "Are you well?" she asked the younger girl, knowing full well that the answer could not be an affirmative.
"Fucking Sandor. Even after all of this, he will live," was her unexpected response.
Kyren laughed despite herself at both the girl's language and her disgusted tone of voice. "To be fair, he fought to come back. Do you remember? I believe you advised Jaqen to poison him."
"Not lethally!" she protested, but a grin began to tug at the corners of her mouth. "Still, he would have been an asset when we fight our way out."
"You believe we will need to?" Kyren asked, lowering her voice.
Arya shrugged. "We don't know when the Faceless Men will arrive. They do not concern themselves overly much with time. Their help would be beneficial, but not necessary. I believe we could fight our way out of here alone, so long as we did it soon."
Kyren watched her curiously. "Why soon?"
"She does not seem inclined to give us food or water. We will soon be too weak to fight, especially if she continues removing people from our ranks to be executed."
It was a dire sort of thought, but one with which Kyren could not argue. Especially as Daenerys stepped onto the balcony above them once more.
"Guards!" she called, drawing the attention of her men. "Bring my other traitorous advisor, Tyrion Lannister. It is time he learned the error of his ways."
Within seconds, the guards were inside the corral, cornering Tyrion. At the last moment, Jaime stepped in front of his brother, batting away their weapons with his metal-forged right hand while he pushed Tyrion further behind him with his left.
Kyren fought to join them, ready to help Jaime defend his brother, but the crowd of men between them was too thick, especially with more Dothraki and Unsullied pouring in to help their fellows.
"Jaime, you must stop!" Tyrion cried over the sounds of fighting. "They will kill you!"
"So they can kill you instead?" Jaime barked back. "Never! You and Kyren are all I have left in the world. I will not stand by while that dragon-riding murderess burns you to death for daring to stand up against her slaughter of the people!"
"Dany!" Jon shouted, standing on the fencing of one side of the corral. "Dany, take me instead! It's me you want to execute, not him. Not any of them! Let them all go free and kill me."
"Stop!" Daenerys commanded, leaning over the balcony railing enough to study the situation. The guards all ceased moving, as did those inside of the corral with a sharp command from Jon. Daenerys smirked down at them. "Guards, bring them all inside, up to the throne room. Bring the people of King's Landing as well. Let us put a final end to the question of who rules Westeros."
She disappeared from the balcony and chaos reigned for an impressive stretch of time. Though Arya vocally believed this would be the best chance for escape, she was quickly forced to change her mind as an unbelievable number of Unsullied reinforcements came to bolster the ranks of Daenerys's men.
As the people were all shepherded up the stairs to the throne room of the Red Keep, Davos kept up a steady stream of questions, all addressed to Jon. His voice was pitched low, but Kyren - walking just behind them - could hear every word.
"What are you thinking, Jon? She intends to kill you; she always has. You know she is mad and that you must rule. Why offer yourself up to her?"
Finally, Jon responded. "She will kill everyone she has captured, all in an attempt to hurt me and then kill me just the same. By doing this, I'm forcing her hand. She may spare everyone else after she's done away with me. This was the only choice left for me to make."
"And what about the Faceless Men? Missandei and Daario?" Davos hissed. "People see that she is not capable of ruling. Given time-"
"What time?" Jon interrupted. "There is no time left. The only time we could purchase would be with the lives of my men, my family. That is not a trade I am willing to make. The forces you mentioned will ensure Dany does not rule for long. Another suitable ruler will be found, and I am trusting you all to find them."
All too soon, they found themselves in the expanse of the throne room. Though it had been some time since Kyren had stood in the cavernous chamber, the changes shocked her. The wall holding the doorway they had just stepped through still stood, as did the wall behind the Iron Throne, but the long walls stretching to either side - the ones that had once held splendorous stained-glass windows of every hue and topic - were mostly missing, the thin strips of wall that had framed every windowpane blown clear. It was only due to the plethora of columns dotting the room that the roof above their heads still remained.
The discolored ash that coated the rest of King's Landing had settled in here as well. The floors and columns were covered, and every disturbance left clear tracks and lifted the ash to float around their knees in a choking fog. The one exception to the film of soot was the Iron Throne. It was clear that someone had lovingly wiped every blade clear of the clinging filth, polished every detail until the whole throne shone clean, a commanding focal point in an otherwise washed-out room.
The assorted group of Wildlings, Northmen, and King's Landing residents were brought up to the small dias at the bottom of where the Iron Throne sat. More than a few shivered in the breeze from the gaping walls. People lined the platform below the Iron Throne, all Daenerys's followers. Missandei and Daario were joined by Jorah and a representative from both the Unsullied and the Dothraki. Kyren did not recognize either man, but she had never known many members of Daenerys's armies.
With a great flapping of wings that sent ashes soaring across the room to choke all inhabitants, Daenerys landed next to the throne room astride Drogon. It was a testament to the throne room's height that the dragon could almost fit fully inside. However, the ceiling was of sufficient height that Daenerys - riding just behind the base of Drogon's neck - was inside the building while still sitting atop her largest dragon.
She smiled benevolently at her followers. "I may not yet be loved by the people of Westeros, but I have the love and loyalty of those who helped me cross the Narrow Sea and that is all I need. The Westerosi people will follow your example or they will die. I ask only that each of you bends the knee now, before this small collection of my new people."
The Dothraki warrior strode to Drogon's feet, shouted out something in a guttural language, crossed a fist over his chest, and knelt. The Unsullied soldier was far less loud, kneeling with the spear in his hands offered up for Daenerys. Jorah knelt solemnly, swearing his loyalty to the great "Khaleesi" with the grace and ceremony suited to a Westeros knight.
When Jorah had returned to the dais, Daenerys looked expectantly at Missandei and Daario, but neither moved. At last, she spoke. "My two most trusted allies, will you not swear fealty to me before this new country?"
Daario gave a bitter laugh. "After you destroyed their city? I do not believe that any such gestures on our part would sway them any further in your favor, queen."
"You disapprove of my methods," Daenerys summarized, and Missandei nodded her affirmation. Daario chose a more vocal agreement.
"I think you would have disapproved of your own methods."
"I did what was necessary to win the city," Daenerys said, voice tight.
"The city was won, my queen," Missandei replied softly. "The people had surrendered themselves to your rule, but you did not stop the destruction."
"Neither of you will bend the knee?" Both shook their heads and Daenerys sighed. "Very well; I shall burn you together. Approach."
Jon broke away from the huddle of North-loyal people and moved to stand before her. She frowned at him from Drogon's back. "I was not speaking to you, Jon Snow. Your time will come when I decree."
"Your own people begin to turn against you and you gain no new followers by conquering cities," Jon said bluntly. "You may have had the forces to take King's Landing - with the help of the Wildlings and Northmen - but you may find the remainder of Westeros to be more of a challenge."
"I have taken the capital city," Daenerys told him slowly, as though he were a child. "By rights, I have won the remainder of Westeros."
"In theory, that is true," Tyrion cut in. "However, when the people hear you are burning homes and people, they will rise up in far more opposition than you are ready to handle. And if you should somehow succeed, you will only be queen of the ashes."
"Leave Westeros," Jon urged. "The people mean you harm and you have done such good in Essos. The infamous Slavers' Bay has been transformed into Dragons' Bay, where there are no slaves and injustice is punished with alacrity. The slave masters of Volantis and other nearby cities tremble at the mention of your name, tread lighter when they hear wings overhead. You are already a queen; forsake this throne and this country and rule where you can do the most good."
"I will do no such thing," Daenerys said, brows drawing as her nostrils flared. "I took King's Landing through my power and no one else's. I will not leave. I will not be denied my birthright!"
She leaned forward, gaze softening as she met Jon's eyes. "Jon, you know I am the best person to rule Westeros. I have prepared for this since my brother's death. You yourself said I would benefit the Seven Kingdoms, bring them to a new prosperity."
"I said that, yes. But then you burnt half a city because they said they wanted to be ruled by another. I had thought, had hoped, that you would bring Westeros to greater heights, but now I see that you are just another who seeks to conquer us, use us for what we have, and leave us for dead. Westeros needs a ruler, but it must not be you."
The people cheered - Wildling, Northman, and King's Landing resident alike - and Daenerys's face paled. "Very well. Let us battle for the throne, Jon Snow. My champion against yours. May your gods bestow their favor on the rightful ruler. Ser Jorah, will you fight in my stead?"
"It would be my honor, Khaleesi," Jorah agreed, inclining his head in a bow.
"And for your champion, Jon Snow?" Daenerys asked haughtily, purposefully emphasizing Jon's unique background.
"I cannot ask another to fight for me," Jon answered, steadily ignoring Arya hissing to get his attention. "I will fight on my own behalf."
Daenerys smirked at him. "Very well. Return his sword to him."
In moments, Longclaw had been retrieved and given to Jon, who strapped the sword around his waist, just as at ease with the motion as he was with taking a breath. Daenerys, still sitting astride Drogon's back, leaned down to speak with Ser Jorah. Kyren longed to beg Jon to reconsider, but the stubborn look in his eye was enough to dissuade even Arya from attempting such a thing. Instead, she and Kyren fervently bade Jon to be careful and gave him a quick embrace.
When Jon and Jorah faced one another, the battle seemed to be well-matched. Jorah was older, but Jon had been injured in the Battle of King's Landing. Both were talented enough that their blades could hardly be seen with the rapidity of their movements and each had the benefit of experience behind him.
However, a disparity soon arose. Jon was unwilling to harm Ser Jorah too severely and instead limited himself to light cuts and non-lethal injuries. Jorah felt no such qualms and soon gained the upper hand with his violent tactics.
With one sharp slice of his blade, Jorah slashed at Jon's face. Jon, giving a horrible cry, staggered back onto the bottom stairs of the Iron Throne, and pressed his hand to the cut. Blood dripped down from behind his palm and he made no move to stand once more. Ser Jorah, seeing an opportunity to capitalize on his enemy's weakness, started forward - only to be stopped by a shout from Daenerys.
"No, no, no!" she snapped. "Do not dare to sit on my throne! You have no claim to it! It is mine alone! Dracarys!"
It was only with Jorah's quick reflexes that he leapt out of the dragon fire's path in time to avoid being burnt. In the same vein, only Jaime and Tyrion's quick movements kept Kyren and Arya from running to the spot they had last seen Jon - a spot now fully doused in flames.
When at last Drogon's fire subsided, the entirety of Kyren's body tensed, unwilling to see another charred body that day. However, her eyes were glued to the spot and she could not have looked away had she wanted to.
Jon - pale, whole, and bleeding profusely - sat still clutching Longclaw, surrounded by silvery rivulets of what had once been the Iron Throne. For a moment, his panting breaths echoed around what was left of the throne room, but they were drowned out by the cheers of every soul in the building who did not swear loyalty to Daenerys.
"No," Daenerys breathed, then louder, "No! Jorah! I order you to kill him!"
Jorah stared up at her, wide-eyed, but a series of scuttling noises sounded around the room before he could take a single step toward Jon. The sounds grew louder and louder until Rhaegal appeared. From the corner of her eye, Kyren watched as Daenerys relaxed slightly.
However, a series of croaking chirps took all attention from the large dragons - no mean feat, but it was not every day that the people of Westeros saw baby dragons.
Indeed, no fewer than four juvenile dragons frolicked in the puddles of iron surrounding Jon, who now wore Daario's cloak. One attempted to breathe fire while the others investigated Jon with curiosity, scenting him before twining about him like cats. Drogon let out a small whistle, which each young dragon returned before Rhaegal made the same sound. As the young dragons settled around Jon, Rhaegal hovered his - her, apparently, Kyren corrected mentally - head beside Jon, sniffing at the wound on his face before dipping her head in a strange fashion.
Jon looked back and Kyren could see that his wound looked much improved. Dragon's tears - a true dragon's tear - had healed the terrible gash on his face.
Jaime was as confused as anyone by the apparently magical healing of the ugly wound on Jon's face. The damage still remained, to be sure, and Jon would be missing an eye if Jaime was not mistaken. However, the wound no longer bled and the chunks of viscera that had clung to his cheek had vanished. Jaime was certain of one thing: the Dragon Queen was most displeased by this turn of events and she was hardly one to ignore such an insult as her dragons aiding an enemy.
"Very well," Daenerys said in a voice like ice, having stepped daintily down from Drogon's back to stand beside Jorah. "Drogon and I will leave. But know this, Jon Snow: you will never be safe. Cities will fall, ships will burn, and perhaps I will make a journey north. Your poor brother and lovely sister would surely welcome a visit from the last true Targary-"
Her vicious speech cut off abruptly as she stared down at the blade protruding from her chest. The Dragon Queen turned slowly, clearly stunned to find Ser Jorah at her back, weeping openly as he pulled his bloody sword from her flesh.
"You have changed, my Khaleesi," Jorah said brokenly, cradling her to his chest. "You threaten innocents, the very ones you once vowed to protect. I have always been blind to your faults, but the world can no longer pay for me to do so. I am sorry, so very sorry."
"My friend…" Daenerys murmured, sweeping a gentle hand down Jorah's cheek as her mouth curved into a sweet smile.
When she fell still, arms dangling limply, the silence was broken by the shattering bellow Drogon released. The assembly had only a moment to see and dread the growing glow from the dragon's throat before Ser Jorah and Daenerys were swallowed by the flames. When Drogon allowed the fire to cease flowing, all evidence of Ser Jorah was gone, vaporized by the heat of dragonfire.
With another screech, Drogon took to the skies with Daenerys's body in his claws. With a series of low-pitched croaks, the four juvenile dragons climbed onto Rhaegal's back and they followed Drogon to the east.
"Are we going to do anything about that?" Jaime asked softly, though in the silence of the throne room, he may as well have shouted it.
Tyrion shrugged. "Seems like a conundrum for our Essosi friends."
Outside the ruined walls of the throne room, snow began to fall, slowly blanketing the land in a pure white contrast to the sickly yellow ashes and soot.
Author's Note - This was a difficult chapter to write, though I've been plotting it out for almost a year. I did my best to explain everything as it happens, but if there are any questions about choices I made, please let me know in a review or a PM! If it's something I wrote poorly, I'll probably fix it in this copy. Strange author confession time: I always thought about writing this chapter when I heard the song Winter is Here from the Game of Thrones soundtrack. It just sounds so wistful and sad, yet sweet and hopeful. That's the tone I was trying to convey in the end of this chapter.
Special thanks to my guest reviewer for the last chapter and to missingn0te for the kind words on Chapter 34!
I know this came early in the month, but this is the second to last chapter and I wanted it published sooner rather than later. Review or PM me and I'll let you know in advance before I post the final installment! Thanks for reading, have a great day, and I'll see you soon!