HI! I'm back! I think my disclaimer in my last post made everyone want to say even more mean things, but that's okay. I'm going to keep writing for the people who enjoy this story as much as I do! You guys are the best! Enjoy!
Enrin's eyes opened at first light, the sun spilling through the small window in their chambers. Jon slept beside her, one arm slung over her chest and the other over his eyes. She sat slowly and gazed at him; he looked more peaceful in sleep, but the worried wrinkle between his brows remained. She had never awoken before him.
She stood silently, padding slowly to the small table, pouring a glass of cool water for herself. The wolves slept in the corner of the room in a great heap. The pups were strewn about, sleeping anywhere their heads could lay. A little female, the smallest, has made a nest against Ghost's stomach. Enrin grinned.
Jon made a fitful noise at that moment, something between a gasp and a sob. Enrin whipped around, almost spilling her cup. His arm had moved from his eyes as they rolled, panicked, behind his eyelids. He gasped again, the sound of a man's breath being forced from his lungs.
"Jon," she said, rushing to him, kneeling on the bed. He thrashed, the furs twisting around his legs. His hands clawed at his chest, his fingers raking over his scars. She took them in hers, pressing them down on the bed, afraid he would hurt himself.
"Jon, enough. Wake up!"
She had shouted at him, lips close to his ear. Jon's eyes flew open, her face a blur above him. He thrashed again, ripping his hands from hers and pushing himself up in the bed, his chest heaving. Swear beaded on his brow.
Enrin didn't touch him. She placed her hands on her knees, leaning away, watching him warily. Her father had always said to never wake a sleeping man, but what Jon had seen behind his eyes had been frightening, and seeing him afraid wasn't something she particularly enjoyed.
Their eyes met and she opened her arms, Jon falling into them, his head against her chest. She stroked his hair as his breathing slowed.
"Just a dream, nothing more. You're still here with me."
Jon looked up at her, kissing her throat as he whispered, "Thank the gods."
They held each other for a moment, before Enrin asked, "Would you like to tell me about it?"
Jon pulled away, elbows on his knees as he rubbed what sleep remained from his eyes. "I often dream of the night I died," he said, "what man wouldn't if they were given a chance to remember it?"
Enrin's throat constricted. She reached out to push a stray lock of hair from in front of his eyes.
"I know," she whispered, "but now you are here with me, and any man that tries to kill you again will have to go through me first."
Jon took her face and kissed her, his hands slipping under his shirt that she had slept in. One hand kneaded her breast as the other gripped her hip to slide her down onto the bed, so she lay beneath him. She let him kiss her for a few moments, his hands and lips roaming her body, before she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him away.
"If I let you continue, we will never get started."
Jon sat as she slid out from under him, pouting like a small boy, all horror from the morning forgotten.
"And what adventure do we embark on today?" He asked, standing as she slid a pair of thick, fur lined pants up her legs. She tucked Jon's shirt into them hastily, reaching down to toss him his pants.
"I saw three cave entrances when we came here, on the beach alone. If there's any dragonglass to be found on this island, we must start searching now."
The wind whipped Enrin's hair as she strode across the beach, Night and the pups sticking close to her side. Jon had forgone his heavier chainmail for a plain brown jerkin, the jacket underneath a faded dark blue. Enrin moved freely; she had forgotten what it felt like to be unencumbered with the extra fabric of dresses. They walked shoulder to shoulder, hands brushing with each step. They had decided to start with the cave farthest from the entrance of the castle and work their way back by nightfall.
"Do you think the stories are true?" Enrin asked, shouting over the crashing of the waves. Jon shrugged.
"If they're not, now is a terrible time for us to find out."
Sam had told him once of a mountain of dragonglass beneath the castle at Dragonstone, growing in the rocks of the mountains. The Targaryens had used it to decorate their Valyrian steel with no knowledge of its true purpose. Jon's fear now was that it was lost to the ages, like the steel, and all their hope was lost.
They searched for hours in the cold, damp caves. They found nothing but darkness and stone in the first two; Jon grasped Enrin's hand as they trudged back to the cave closest to the entrance of the castle, defeated.
"Should we even bother?" She asked dejectedly, feeling more forlorn than ever. Jon said nothing, but watched the wolf pups bound through the waves, snapping at the sea foam above their heads. They reminded him of human children, full of wonder and excitement of something new. Jon thought of what would happen to the children of the world if they gave up hope.
"Aye," he said, pulling her against him as they neared the mouth of the cave, "we should."
Jon returned to the cave with a torch, Enrin pacing the mouth impatiently. They entered together, the darkness swallowing them. The shadow of the flames leaped across the stone walls. Enrin saw monsters that she knew were not there, but moved closer to Jon anyway. The path wound down, and then up again, growing more narrow as they ascended. Enrin tried to swallow her fear at the enclosed space, clutching the back of Jon's jerkin to keep herself steady.
The cavern opened above them, the ceiling higher than she'd ever thought it could be. Jon raised the torch, squinting, and suddenly they both gasped.
It was there, all of it, covering the walls of the cave in glittering blackness, like oil. Jon reached out to touch it, his hands shaking in disbelief.
"A mountain of dragonglass," he said, his voice soft with amazement.
"Jon," he heard Enrin call from somewhere behind him, and turned to find her slipping out of the aura of light the fire left them. He quickly strode to meet her, wanting to scold her for walking off into a cave, with an uneven floor, where she could fall and break her neck. When he reached her, though, her eyes were on the stones above her, fingers splayed out over the rock. She pointed.
Crude drawings met him in the light of the torch, circles within circles, swirling lines jutting across the face of the stones like veins. There were pictures of children, almost carved into the rock, and taller men with helmets. They had spears and swords raised high; some had symbols spraying from their hands like sparks. They pointed to something even more sinister; blue shards of sea stone stared at him from the rock, bones with blue eyes.
"The White Walkers," Jon whispered, "these were done by the Children of the Forest...and the First Men."
Enrin glanced at him, brushing her fingers across the carvings.
"We have to show this dragon queen," she murmured, studying them closely. She could feel a power there, an old magic, tickling her fingertips like a shock.
"The torch is going out," Jon commented suddenly, after what felt like hours of them staring at the drawings, watching the flames die in the reflection of the dragonglass.
Enrin dragged her brush through her hair, wincing as it hit a tangle. The sea breeze was not like the gentle wind of the forest, and her hair had become a matted mane upon her head.
Jon only watched her. They had been silent since they had left the cave, simply needing to be near each other, each trying to comprehend what they saw in their own way. She lay the brush down on the table as a knock on the door jarred them both, Jon leaping up to answer.
Four Dothraki stood beyond, their hands on their weapons. Jon used his body to bar the door, but they did not strike. They only pointed.
Jon's eyes followed their fingers, to Enrin, who stood against the window, her hand still resting on the table. Jon clenched his jaw, turning to face them again, his nostrils flared.
"No."
The first man pushed past him and gripped Enrin's elbow, gently but firmly, as the remaining three pushed Jon back against the wall. They did not harm him, only blocked his way as the largest of the Dothraki men pulled Enrin from the room. They spoke in a guttural language as they barred the door to their chambers, two standing station on either side of the door. She heard the pounding of Jon's body as he flung himself against the door, screaming her name as they retreated down the halls.
Enrin said nothing, only followed the man in front of her as another took up the position at her back. She closed her eyes.
A snarl echoed behind them, full of loathing. Night sprang down the winding hall, her dark fur almost blending in with the blackness behind them. One of the Dothraki raised his curved blade, ready to strike.
"No!" Enrin gasped, gripping his arm with both of her hands and almost being lifted from the ground as he raised it. He stopped, saying something in his language again. She shook her head.
"I don't know what you're saying," she said, releasing his arm and reaching to immerse her fingers in the thick fur at Night's neck. The wolf stilled immediately, sheathing her teeth. The two men squinted at her, but continued on their way down the halls, allowing Night to walk at Enrin's side.
The rounded the corner, two of their brethren standing abreast at two great doors, with handles in the shape of dragon's scales. They opened with an audible creak.
A great table stood before them, carved into a map of Westeros and Essos. Figurines stood placed here and there: dragons, wolves, and lions staring into the distance.
Daenerys awaited them, looking into the mouth of a hearth bigger than even the one in the throne room at Winterfell. She turned as they entered, a silver dragon glinting in the light of the fire.
"I thought we might talk," was all she said, and spoke to the Dothraki in that same biting language that sounded almost sweet on her tongue. The soldiers turned and left, closing the doors behind them.
Night stalked forward and Enrin saw Daenerys' back go rigid. She almost smiled.
"She won't harm you," she said, "not unless I tell her to."
Daenerys' purple eyes met Enrin's blue, a stiff smile on her lips.
"I had best not offend you, then," she said, "may I touch her?"
Enrin nodded once, meeting Night's yellow eyes. Daenerys reached forward, letting Night take a long drag of her scent. She ran her fingertips over the soft fur of Night's head.
"A beautiful creature," she murmured, pulling her hand away, as Night paced back to Enrin's side.
"As are your children," Enrin said, and she meant it. Daenerys smiled again, a true smile.
"I thank you."
She reached for two elaborate goblets, pouring wine into each. She offered one to Enrin first.
She took it, unable to hide the distrust in her eyes.
"You think I mean to poison you?" Daenerys asked, and made a point to drink from her cup.
Enrin lifted hers to her lips, the crisp drink tingling on her tongue. Daenerys motioned to two chairs set up by the fire, sitting. She watched Enrin as she slowly rounded the table, sitting across from the silver lady. Night took her place at Enrin's feet, her cheek resting against her calf.
They sat in silence for a few moments, before Enrin asked, "What is it that you wanted to speak about?"
Daenerys squared her shoulders, sitting stiffly. Enrin realized now that she was mimicking her posture.
"Well, I'd like to talk about you."
Enrin took a deep breath, draining her cup of wine. Daenerys motioned for her to have another.
"And what about me?"
"You're a wildling," Daenerys said, curious rather than accusatory. Enrin nodded. "I am of the free-folk, yes," she said, another sip of wine passing her lips. Daenerys watched her for a beat, brows furrowed in curiosity.
"Forgive me, but, wildling does not seem to be a fitting description for you."
Enrin shrugged. "My mother raised me differently than most," she said, "if I hadn't known better, I would have believed the other children when they teased me that she was born south of the wall." In truth, Enrin remembered very little of her mother. Only that she was good and gentle, and had sang her songs of summer as she went to sleep at night.
"If I may ask," Daenerys said, "what of your mother now?"
Enrin shifted in her seat, turning her cup in both of her hands. "She died in the birthing bed," she said, using all her strength to keep her voice level, "and my brother along with her."
Daenerys met her eyes, and Enrin was surprised to see sincerity there. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said, filling her goblet once more, "my own mother died in the birthing bed as well, but I survived."
"Then it may seem you are luckier than most."
"It would."
They regarded each other again, the dragon and the she-wolf, the crackling of the fire accompanying them. It was Enrin who spoke first, desperate to break the silence.
"You asked me here for a reason," she said, leaning back in her chair. Daenerys mimicked her.
"Well," she said, "if you are not here to bend the knee and swear fealty to me, why have you come?"
Enrin took a deep breath. She had only a short time to talk with this woman, and she knew it would be in their best interest to make it worth while.
"I can tell you what I've seen," she began, "but I cannot force you to help us. I can only hope that you will decide that for yourself."
Daenerys said nothing, only motioned for her to continue.
"You and this Cersei Lannister...you can play your game of war if you would like, but the north want no part in it. You bicker over this throne as if it is the only prize to be won. Forgive me, but you are both wrong. The only prize to fight for is life."
Daenerys opened her mouth to question her, but Enrin steamrolled her.
"I am meaning no offense. I do not begrudge you your birthright. But the birthright of all people is to live, and f you do not listen to me now, you will rule over a graveyard by the time this is all over.
"I have seen the dead. An army of them, bigger than any army you or I have ever known. I fought against the White Walkers at Hardhome. I saw thousands of people die as I sailed away in a ship for Castle Black. I saw those same thousands rise up again to fight with the Night King. I lost most of my people, but thankfully the ones that still live are ready to fight again.
"We have come to ask you to fight with us, with the north, against the one true enemy. In return, we will help you win this Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister and sit you upon it, but the north want no part of the Seven Kingdoms."
Daenerys regarded her, her head cocked to the side.
"You want me to believe that the dead can rise again? That this...Night King is going to come and kill us all. Forgive me," she said, almost laughing, leaning her chin on her hand. Enrin shrugged, sipping her wine. Daenerys closed her eyes for a moment.
"So," she said after a moment, amethyst eyes meeting ice blue, "who's to say I can't just let you return to the north and take my army and dragons south, to King's Landing? Can these...White Walkers swim across an ocean?"
Enrin cocked an eyebrow. She swallowed the last of her wine.
"You very well could," she said, "but I can promise you this; once they are finished with us, they will come for you. The Night King brings with him the long winter, when the seas will freeze to ice and darkness would descend upon all the realm. You would be safe for a while, Daenerys Targaryen, but not forever. They will come for you, too, as they come for all the living."
Daenerys was smart enough to have fear in her eyes. She swallowed, reaching for the pitcher of wine again and filling both of their glasses.
"Say I believed you," she said, sipping to hide a tremor in her hands, "how do we kill these White Walkers?"
They both drank in silence for a moment, and Daenerys shivered. She threw another piece of wood onto the fire, not shrinking away as the embers touched her hands.
"There is a mountain of dragonglass beneath your castle," Enrin said simply, wiping the corner of her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, "dragonglass and Valyrian steel can reduce a White Walker to dust. But fire is the true way to kill the wights, the bodies that follow them."
Enrin leaned forward, closer to Daenerys than ever before. She could truly see how young this dragon queen was. A young, frightened girl being told ghost stories by a roaring fire. Except this time, the ghosts were real.
"Your dragons breathe fire," Enrin said, her voice almost pleading, "help us. Help us defeat the Night King. After, the north will assist you in sitting on whatever throne you want, as long as we're left living to do so."
Daenerys sat back, her eyes cold and calculating.
"Does your husband know that you are asking for the assistance of my army and my dragons?" She asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity. Enrin shrugged.
"He knows the severity of this situation. He knows better than all of us what we are up against here. I don't need my husband's permission to ask for the assistance of another powerful ally."
Daenerys smirked, one eyebrow raised. "You love each other very much," she commented, idly, pretending badly that she wasn't fishing for information. Enrin's eyes met hers, slightly misty from the wine.
"We do," she agreed, simply, because that was all she knew.
"Do you love him enough to bend the knee to save his life?"
Enrin bristled, her eyes like ice. Night raised her head and snarled.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say that was a threat," she growled through gritted teeth, her jaw set in a line.
Daenerys raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "A question, and nothing more."
They stared each other down for a moment, both faces impassive. The fire gave light to Daenerys' eyes that made them look as silver as her hair.
"I love Jon," Enrin said finally, almost resigned, "I love him enough to follow him here and anywhere to make sure he is safe. But I love him too much to give the North to you. For that, he would never forgive me."
Daenerys inclined her head, her hair spilling over her shoulder and down her back. The dragon on her pin glared at Enrin, teeth casting shadows on the wall.
"A tenuous agreement, then," she said, pouring the last of the wine into her glass. "I will help you defeat this Night King, and in return you will lend the armies of the North to my cause against Cersei Lannister; whichever comes first.
"For now, you and your husband can remain King and Queen in the North, until all of our enemies are defeated. Then, we can discuss whether you would rather fight another war or bend the knee."
Enrin raised an eyebrow. "Are these your terms?"
Daenerys nodded once.
"They are. You have my word...Your Grace."
Enrin stood, with Night at her side. They grasped each other's forearms, standing eye to eye.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Enrin said, before turning and walking from the room, leaving Daenerys to stand by the fire and watch her go.