Author's Note: Happy 2019 everyone! I'm sorry for the disappearance, I had horrible writer's block and lost some of my passion for writing Game of Thrones. For those who have waited patiently and stuck it out, thank you so much! This chapter isn't as long as I like, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of it.

Chapter 4

It was well past noon the next day, Daenerys stood on top of Winterfell's walls and looked out and over the moorlands. It was a strange sort of freedom the north. The morning dawn had long since gone with its fog and chill, it was now clear, crisp, and just cold. She had yet to see the Stark lords and lady, they had been absent during the morning meal and noon meal. Her temper had nearly been set ablaze, had they been avoiding her? They were only prolonging the inevitable. The Starks would surrender their northern kingdom to her, it was only a matter of time.

Daenerys set her sights for the Stark lord's room, she easily ignored the scrutiny of the guards placed throughout Winterfell since her arrival. Most were subtle with their looks, while others stared at her with open hatred. She could understand why to a degree, she'd come to take their home. But why could they not see reason? It was for their own protection and wellness.

Daenerys neared Robb's room, there were several guards outside his chamber doors. She noticed Sansa appear in the doorway as she shut it quickly behind her. The tall, fiery haired woman looked wearied. Her pretty face set in a firm frown when she noticed the dragon queen.

Sansa's dark gaze rested on her, gaze probing and curious for the silver lady's intentions and presence. Sansa offered a small, brisk curtsy, and a cold greeting. "Your grace, may I be of assistance to you?"

Daenerys somehow seemed to radiate power despite her small stature. The Targaryen dragon stared up at the willowy Stark woman imperiously. "Your brothers have been absent all day. I took it upon myself to come seek out Lord Stark." There was a sense of finality in her tone, Sansa's gaze narrowed quickly at it.

"The king in the north is indisposed of at the moment." Sansa spoke, Daenerys easily saw the distress she tried to hide away in her Tully blue eyes. Sansa was good, but Daenerys was greater. It only took a moment for the dragon queen to realize the she-wolf was lying through her teeth.

Daenerys came forward, gloved hands joined together and resting lazily against her coat. Sansa had heard stories of the madness that ran thick and strong in the veins of Targaryens, she wondered if it were very much alive in this new queen. She'd heard the stories across the Narrow Sea of the dragon queen's conquests of Slaver's Bay, now called the Bay of Dragons. How she took the great cities, bathing them in fire and blood.

"With all due respect Lady Stark, I am not a patient woman." Daenerys's voice was soft but pierced like Valyrian steel. "I did not fly here for my time to be wasted, only for northern submission, for your brothers' yielding." Her face set into an emotionless mask. "I requested an audience with your brothers solely to spare your people from the kindness of my heart. I am no longer asking, Lady Stark. I demand your brother's appearance."

Daenerys and Sansa studied each other for a few moments, the dark circles below Sansa's eyes clearly evident of her lack of sleep. This quipped the Targaryen queen's curiosity. Sansa sighed reluctantly and stepped aside from the door. It was the lord's chamber, once long ago it had belonged to her mother and father.

The room was dark, the furs were pulled over the windows causing it to be stiflingly hot. A fire burned angrily in the hearth and cast strange shadows throughout the room. Daenerys looked down at the empty bottles scattered across the floor, noting the remnants of red liquid inside them. Then she saw him, Robb Stark, the young wolf, Lord of Winterfell, harmfully drunk and sprawled out on the bed, his direwolf protectively at his side and ever watchful of her.

Daenerys glanced sideways at Lady Stark, the she-wolf's hands twisted in the skirts of her black dress. "The men pretend not to notice, but Jon and I have sensed their unease. Jon has tried to step forward to be the liege lord the north needs. I've tried to stop him, but Robb…" Sansa trailed off. Daenerys saw the haunting concern in her sky-blue eyes, it was not as the Lady of Winterfell, but as Sansa Stark worried for her brother's wellbeing. The break in her walls to allow Daenerys to see her vulnerability ceded her own annoyance with the Lord Stark.

Daenerys sighed, she rested a hand on the taller woman's arm. "Bring me water." She looked at the startled woman. "Instruct your men to remove all the wine in the castle, now." She moved closer towards the young wolf. A sheen of sweat covered his face, dampened his auburn curls to stick to his forehead. "Your brother will not be happy but get rid of all of it. Burn it, drink it, pour it in the rivers, I do not care. He cannot be near it."

Sansa stared at her for a hard, long moment, trying to judge out her aims, there were none besides honest intentions. Sansa nodded and called the guards in and gave swift instructions, they followed them without question. Sansa came to stand beside her, a jug of water in hand. She questioned mildly, "You have had experiences with this?"

Daenerys stilled for a moment, "My brother, Viserys, on the occasion he drank. It only made him angrier." Her tone darkened for a moment. "Anger he always took out on me."

"I see," Sansa murmured, she almost sounded apologetic.

Daenerys shook the Stark man awake from his sleep, he needed water sooner then later. Robb awoke with a start, breath gasping, eyes wild and fists swinging. "Get away from me, Frey!" Robb shouted in a wild fury. Sansa moved to avoid a fist swung at her head and fell sprawled on the ground, Daenerys managed to move out of range in time, but returned with a hard slap to Robb's face.

"Control yourself," She hissed at the Lord Stark.

Robb quickly broke from his daze to see Daenerys helping Sansa get to her feet, her purple eyes banked with fire at his treatment of them. Sansa was flushed with embarrassment as Stark guards and men of the Vale stood silently in the room. All of them speechless, stunned, unable to utter a word.

"Sister," Robb coughed, his face reddened from his binges of wine. His eyes settled onto Daenerys Targaryen. "What is she doing in here?" There was no welcome in his eyes.

Robb was startled to see the visceral hate in her purple gaze directed at him. "Lord Stark, I would advise you to get yourself together and meet me in your council room, we have much to discuss regarding the future of your northern kingdom." The dismissive way she looked at him set his blood a boil. Daenerys set the jug of water down in front of him on the table. "I suggest you drink up." Daenerys rose gracefully and took her leave.

She heard Sansa's quiet voice, "You promised, Robb."

His deep sigh, "I know, I'm sorry."

Daenerys felt cool, winter air settle against her hot skin. She sighed, she walked around Winterfell, she'd give Lord Stark time to collect himself. She looked around the ancestral seat of House Stark, their seat of power and the capitol of the north, its once ruins were well under repair. From her vantage point she saw Jon Stark, dressed in thick Stark armour, training with his men. He raised his bastard sword of Valyrian steel, high above his head as he drove the pommel into a shield and thrust the man backwards, in the same movement he swung it diagonally and stopped mid-strike against the abdomen of one of his men.

The man froze, sword raised above his head, his chest left wide open to an attack. Jon's grey eyes settled onto him, "You're dead." He removed his sword and straightened himself, he sheathed his blade. "That's how easy it is to die. We are fighting against an undead army that is far more agile, swifter, and stronger than any normal man. You need to be smarter fighters. Do you understand?"

The men looked solemn, nodded sullenly. "Yes, your grace."

Jon nodded, "Good, keep practicing." As if sensing her presence for the first time, Jon stiffened and turned to see Daenerys watching him, the look in her eyes was curious and wary as if trying to make some sort of judgement call of him. He'd heard from one of his men of what had happened in Robb's chambers with his sister and the dragon queen. He had hoped to avoid such a spectacle, but he had been unable to attend to Daenerys and keep her occupied when he had had to overtake Robb's duties on top of his own. Jon glanced at him men, "Keep going, I will request for refreshments to be brought for you." The men gave a small cheer as they continued to work on their swordsmanship.

Daenerys approached, Jon offered her a nod in greeting and a strained smile. She could see the weight of guilt settle in his usually unreadable grey eyes. "Your grace, my men informed me of what you did for my brother. I want to offer my gratitude for your assistance."

Daenerys looked slightly apologetic, "I must offer my apologies in return, I overstepped my boundaries as your guest."

"It's alright," Jon spoke sincerely. "It may have been for the better. You did not stay to speak with my brother?" He asked slowly.

Daenerys glanced out at the men duelling, "I think he seemed quite content without my company."

Jon nodded and sighed, "My brother has seen violence and blood shed from an age he should not have, and he became a changed man because of it. I won't hold it against him. His wife, unborn child, and mother were slaughtered before his eyes."

Daenerys was quiet a moment, "A witch sacrificed my unborn son when I begged her to heal my husband. He was stillborn and deformed, my husband a shell of the man he'd once been. I killed him myself out of mercy."

Jon looked at her quickly, she could feel grief and sorrow rolling off him in waves, and it was for her losses. She was still trying to comprehend the kind of man Jon Stark was. "I'm sorry."

Daenerys offered him a soft, but cold as ice stare, "There's no need for apologies, Lord Stark. It was long ago. I did not love my husband, I only needed him alive for what he offered, protection, safety, his power as Khal. In return I carried his child. I was mindful of my duties as Khaleesi for my survival, nothing more nothing less."

"Your grace," Jon began, but Daenerys silenced him with a single look.

"Do not misunderstand me, Lord Stark. I was sold as a broodmare to Khal Drogo by my brother when I was merely a child. I've had far worse done to me since then. But, through all my losses I acquired my army, Dothraki and Unsullied alike, and I birthed my dragons, my children. They are all I have in this world. My entire family is dead, I am the last Targaryen, the last of my house." She settled her purple gaze onto him. "We have all seen bloodshed and violence my lord, you as well from the whispers I hear from your northern people. It's how we cope with the horrors of war that define our characters. Your brother clearly lacks strength and the ambition to carry on."

Jon's grey eyes hardened. "You are wrong, your grace." He said with chilled courtesy. "My brother is a great man."

Daenerys's eyes smoldered, "Neither of you are fit to rule a kingdom, lord Stark."

Jon's gloved hand opened and closed, flexing the fingers of his burnt hand in his frustration. "We will speak of this later, your grace. I must return to my men."

"Of course, my lord." Daenerys turned away but paused a moment. A fire settled in her purple eyes. "I must tend to my dragons, its been a few days, I'm sure they are missing their mother." Her threat was clear as a north, summer day.

Jon froze a moment, he glared at her back as she retreated. 'Damn her!' He thought furiously as he stormed back to his men. He did not need this right now, enemies were closing in on them from all sides, his brother and sister needed him, the north needed him well and ready. Though Jon was no fool, he knew he needed Daenerys's forces and her dragons, or the north would surely perish, all of Westeros would be destroyed. How could he make them all see reason?

Robb had greatly sobered up, he sat at the head of the table with Jon and Sansa at his side. He nursed a goblet of water, dressed in his Stark finery. The men of the Vale and the houses of the north filled the great hall. The large wooden doors were opened, and sound turned to silence in a second. Daenerys stepped forward, no longer did she wear her white coat, instead she was dressed in a black coat, the sleeves edged with brown furs. A silver, thin, intricate chain hung from her right shoulder across to her left waist. On top of the chain were three silver dragon heads. A crimson red sash hung from the noose of the three dragon heads. Tyrion was at her side as she began her progression down the length of the hall. She easily ignored the countless eyes that set upon her, latched onto her like a second skin. Jon watched the small, silver woman with fascination. Daenerys Stormborn was born a queen, regal and charismatic, and she showed it from the moment she set down from her dragon during her arrival. The silver ring of the hand upon Tyrion's shoulder stood out proudly as he held his chin up defiantly. Neither he or his queen were welcomed visitors to the north or its people.

"Lord Starks, Lady Stark," Daenerys tuneful voice rung out loudly, easily projecting throughout the great hall for all to hear. The weight of many stares hung on her back and face. "It is time we discuss your yielding of the north to me."

Jon stared at her with an openly, neutral expression. Sansa had hidden her feelings behind a cool mask of indifference. Robb set his goblet down, blue eyes pierced hers as he took measure of the Targaryen woman. Her chin raised in challenge of him. She was no subservient, would look at no man as master ever again, not her brother, not Khal Drogo, especially not Robb and Jon Stark.

Robb leaned forward in his chair, "My apologies, your grace, but the north does not yield."

The fire grew in her eyes, rising phoenix like from its purple ashes. "I see, that is unfortunate." She set a look upon the Stark siblings, one Jon interpreted as 'Silly wolves, you are fools if you think you will not do as I ask.' Jon sighed to himself, Robb would not yield, and Daenerys would not compromise. Her lilac irises glanced at him for a moment, she was speaking directly to him, but no one noticed the tiny shift in her expression besides him. "You would risk the survival of your people for your pride?"

Robb glared at her, "Why must their risk their lives at all? Why do you not leave us in peace? There is plenty in Westeros for you to conquer, what does it matter of the north remains autonomous?"

Daenerys sighed, "The northern kingdom belongs to the throne, my birthright. If I allow the north to maintain its independence the other kingdoms will question my power and authority, or the other kingdoms may demand their independence. There is also the question if the north would try to rise and rebel against me in the future."

"We would never," Robb began, furious she'd question his loyalty. "Our word is our oath."

"Forgive me if I do not believe the word of Stark." Daenerys snapped back. "Your family rose against mine in rebellion to help the usurper, Robert Baratheon. Your family broke faith with House Targaryen."

Sansa's voice cut in like ice, "Your father burned our grandfather alive, he burned Jon's father alive. Your father broke faith with our family first. And your brother kidnapped and raped our Aunt Lyanna."

Daenerys's lilac eyes shone with guilt and shame as they set upon the quiet Stark man. Her rosebud lips fell and parted, but no words were spoken. Jon stood from his seat. "The northerners are proud people, they will not bend to a southern ruler." Jon spoke as he looked around the great hall at the many faces. Young, old, many in their youth still, and there were still millions more throughout Westeros. He sighed with a heavy heart. "This is nonsense." Their gathered everyone's attention. "Yielding of kingdoms, bending the knee, the iron throne, none of it matters if we are all dead." He looked directly at Daenerys. "Your grace, I mean no offense, but we are not your enemy, the north is not your enemy, the dead is."

Jon watched the ethereal being before him, hair like liquid silver falling forward from her shoulder, her skin pale as winter snow, her amethyst stone eyes levelled him with an incredulous stare. "The dead?" Her tone was dry and demanding, on the verge of a laugh of disbelief.

"Yes, the dead." Jon was solemn in gaze and tone. Daenerys's eyes tapered, almost amusedly. "The army of the dead is marching south; the Night King is leading them. If he crosses the wall and we are not prepared, we will all die. Then it won't matter who sits on the iron throne."

"You expect me to believe this?" Daenerys looked at her hand, she was fuming. "Are you trying to distract me with fabled stories, Lord Stark?"

Tyrion came to her side, his voice soft. "Careful now, your grace. Stay calm."

Daenerys cast him a gaze, "I am calm, I assure you, Lord Tyrion."

"My brother speaks the truth, your grace." Robb spoke, gaining the dragon's attention. "Jon is not a liar. I have seen the Night King and his army as well." Sansa glanced at her brother, lips parted, her eyes narrowing with concern, would Robb really hand over the north to the Targaryen? Robb looked at Jon, his expression was apologetic before he stared coolly at the dragon queen. "True as it may be, the north will not yield. We will defend our own with or without your help, your grace."

Jon looked at his brother angrily, his voice quiet and cold. "Robb."

"Enough, Jon." Robb hissed back, unable to meet his brother's grey Stark eyes. His pride would cost them this alliance, he knew this. But he could not fail his men again.

"With or without my help," Daenerys looked at the three Stark siblings. "Do you think you can defeat this Night King and his army without my men and my dragons?"

Robb and Jon exchanged expression, Jon sighed. "No, I do not think we can."

Daenerys's purple gaze fixed onto the Stark men with obstinate defiance. "I will help you, I will fight for the north." Jon and Robb stood and looked at the Targaryen. "Once I obtain the north's submission."

Robb was furious, Sansa glared frigidly from her seat. Jon caught Robb's fisted hand in his. His burnt hand and fingers opened and closed beneath the leather glove. Sansa, Robb, and the entire hall stared at the Stark lord who appeared more Stark then any still alive. Jon managed to restrain his temper. Despite his cold ways, the white wolf had an edge to him, he still had northern pride. It hid below the surface waiting to be set free. "Your grace, what you are asking for is too much."

"Asking?" Daenerys's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You wish for me to aide you in this battle against the Night King and his army. You want me to send my men and my dragons into battle for you, for the north. You want me to risk their lives and the lives of my children against this fabled enemy you speak of, an enemy that only you and your brother have seen. Yet, you say it is I who asks to much?"

Jon's gaze softened, it was fair. She was justified. So were he and his brother. He remained unwavering. "My brother and I are kings in the north because our bannermen put their faith in us, they chose us to lead them, to protect them, to ensure their survival. Our duties are to the north and its people." Jon looked at Robb and Sansa. "We will not yield to you, or anyone else, your grace." There was a mighty cheer from the northerners and men of the Vale. They clattered their swords against the floor in unison. Daenerys glared at Jon, his face remained unchanging behind an emotionless mask of politics.

Her expression blazed. "That's fair." Disdain laced her voice and tainted the frown that set on her lips. "It's also fair to point out I am the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms. I was born to rule and I will with fire and blood if need be." Daenerys turned on her heels and stormed out of the great hall. Tyrion paused to cast a knowing look upon the Starks before turning to follow her.

"Go on!" One of the men yelled, "Get out of here, dragonspawn!"

Jon glared at Cley Cerwyn, silencing the man with a single look. Robb went to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Jon shrugged him off. "Are you happy?" He demanded on of his brother. "We've lost the only ally who could have potentially helped us to defeat the Night King and his army." Jon was furious, grey met with Tully blue. "You sentenced us all to death." He turned and stormed out of the great hall.

"Jon!" Robb called after him, he glared at his brother, his best friend. His hand tightened into a fist, he slammed it into the table. "Damn it, Jon!"

Sansa stood and quickly tried to soothe her brother, "Leave him be, Robb. He'll understand, give him time."

Robb shook her off, "I need to be alone." He turned to his men, all silent and uncomfortable. "Everyone is dismissed. Get back to work." He retreated back to his chambers.

End of Chapter!

I hope you all enjoyed, review if you'd like an update, need more then ten!

Finally shook off my writer's block, but OH MY GOD! Game of Thrones, last season, in just a few months, I don't think my heart can take it!