Emmelyne didn't like her chambers. They were dark. Empty. Cold. Far too quiet. She sat on her bed, smoothing her hands along her stomach. She tallied months in her mind. Three, if she were correct in her timing. "A child," she whispered to herself.
She'd never expected to have a child. Never even expected to be married. She'd thought she'd live out the life of a Red Priestess, traveling Westeros and spreading the religion. No one else knew. Perhaps, if she could find a maester, moon tea could be a solution. But, somewhere in her mind, she wanted this baby. What would Markus think? She knew that he loved her, but he was still noble, and his father had prospects of betrothals for him. Emmelyne tried to force the thoughts from her mind, pulling her legs up to her chest and letting out a few long breaths. She would not be sleeping tonight.
Jon visited Emmelyne just before he was to go to bed. "Daenerys has agreed to let us mine the dragonglass," he said, and there was a smile on his face. "I wondering if, when we had enough, would you like some arrows to be made? I know you brought your bow."
Emmelyne nodded, smiling as well. "Yes," she said. "That seems like a very good idea."
When the mining started, Jon supervised the men. Emmelyne didn't occupy herself with the mining; instead, she chose to remain in her room. Daenerys assigned a Dothraki girl named Halli to be Emmelyne's handmaiden. Halli was a sweet young girl, with long, black hair that she kept styled in what looked like thousands of tight braids. She had dark brown eyes, so dark that they were nearly black. She was tanned, and very small. Her knowledge of the Common Tongue was lacking, but she could at least say names and standard greetings. She told Emmelyne that she was fourteen, and before she came to Westeros, she had been a wife to Khal Moro, making her a Khaleesi. But when Daenerys saved her from Moro, she gave up the title, instead choosing to simply be a handmaiden. Emmelyne liked Halli very much.
The news of the morning was Theon Greyjoy returning to Dragonstone. Emmelyne hadn't seen Theon since she left Winterfell, and, honestly, she did not want to see him. He'd taken Winterfell and pretended to kill Bran and Rickon. He'd beheaded Rodrik Cassel. As far as Emmelyne was concerned, Theon could die and she would not care at all. He may have saved Sansa from Ramsay, but everything else outdid that.
Daenerys had left to attack a Lannister convoy. She managed to convert most of the men to her cause, but had to kill Randyll and Dickon Tarly in the process. When she was said to be returning, Jon and Emmelyne decided to wait and greet her. They stood on the cliffs, Jon looking out at the water. Emmelyne stared at the sky, looking around for the Mother of Dragons. Drogon's screeching sounded around them, and Jon turned to look as well. Daenerys urged him downward, letting him settle on the ground. His massive claws shook the ground. Emmelyne smiled brightly, still so surprised by the large creature. Drogon locked eyes with Jon, inching forward. He roared, and Emmelyne's widened at the side of his giant teeth. He lowered his head, still staring at Jon, who took a few hesitant steps forward, taking his glove off of his hand. Daenerys watched him closely. He reached out slowly, his hand shaking. It only ceased when he lay it on the dragon's scaled nose. He pat the scales gently. Emmelyne was filled with wonder. She moved forward as well, holding her hand out flat to Drogon. While his eyes were closed, he still sensed her presence. He sniffed her hand, opening his mouth slightly. In Emmelyne's palm, there were embers. They drifted upward, turning into a tiny tornado of flame. Daenerys was amazed. Jon was the first to move his hand away, but Emmelyne stayed a moment longer. She stared at the beautiful, spiraling fire. Red, orange, gold. She felt the faint heat of it on her hand. When she drew her hand away, it disappeared quickly. All that remained was a faint, swirling red mark on her palm. It was not a burn, for it did not pain her. Emmelyne reached for the ruby at her throat, and she let out a shuddering gasp.
When Daenerys dismounted, she looked at Emmelyne. "What did you do?" she asked her.
"I don't know," Emmelyne replied.
The initial shock of Jon's touching Drogon had worn away, and now he, too, looked at Emmelyne. "That was magic," he said. "It had to be."
She nodded, entirely unsure of what had just happened. "I'm going to return to my chambers," she whispered.
And so she did.
In her chambers, she was shaking slightly. She stared at the mark on her hand, a million different thoughts going through her head about what could be the explanation. She knew that none of these were true. The next morning, Halli stepped into the room. She hesitated before speaking, trying to speak plainly. "Jon Snow... wants you... to meet him... in the... map room."
Emmelyne smiled, nodding. "Good job, Halli. Thank you."
"You are... welcome."
So, Emmelyne made her way to the room where Stannis had had a large map carved into a table. She smiled at Jon, who was reading a scroll. Daenerys, Tyrion, Varys, and Davos were at the table surrounding him. There was a man that Emmelyne did not know. He was older, with blond hair and blue eyes. He looked at Emmelyne, nodding respectfully. "Ser Jorah Mormont," he introduced.
"Emmelyne Stark," she replied.
"I thought Arya was dead," Jon said suddenly, looking up from his scroll. "I thought Bran was dead."
"I'm happy for you," Daenerys said.
She caught Emmelyne's gaze and added a hasty, "both of you."
"You don't look happy," she told Jon.
"Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch," Jon explained. "If they make it past the Wall..."
"The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years," Varys interjected, "presumably."
"I need to go home."
"You said you don't have enough men," Daenerys pointed out.
Jon shrugged. "We'll fight with the men we have. Unless you'll join us."
"And give the country to Cersei? As soon as I march away, she marches in."
"Perhaps not," Tyrion said. "Cersei thinks the Army of the Dead is nothing but a story made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?"
'I don't think she'll come see the dead at my invitation," Jon said with a humorless chuckle.
Tyrion stepped toward him. "So bring the dead to her," he urged.
"I thought that was what we were trying to avoid," Daenerys pointed out.
"We don't have to bring the whole army. Only one soldier."
"It's a good idea," Emmelyne said. "Is it possible?" she asked Jon.
Jon thought for a moment. "The first wight I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the Wall."
Tyrion continued. "Bring one of these things down to King's Landing and show her the truth."
But Varys seemed unconvinced. "Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the capital."
"The only person she listens to is Jaime. He might listen to me."
Tyrion looked at Daenerys expectantly. "And how would you get into King's Landing?" she demanded.
Both Jon, Tyrion, and Emmelyne turned to look at Davos. He'd once been a smuggler, and knew how to sneak around. "I can smuggle you in," Davos said, "but if the gold cloaks were to recognize you, I'm warning you, I'm not a fighter."
"Well, it will all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men," Daenerys said.
"Fair point," Varys added. "How do you propose to find one?"
Jon shook his head. Jorah spoke up. "With the queen's permission, I'll go north and take one."
Daenerys spun in her seat, eyes widening at him. He shrugged. "You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you."
"The Free Folk will help us," Jon said. "They know the real north better than anyone."
"They won't follow Ser Jorah," Davos pointed out.
"They won't have to."
There was silence for a long time. Davos was the one who broke it. "You can't lead a raid beyond the Wall. You're not in the Night's Watch anymore, you're King in the North."
"I'm the only one here who's fought them," Jon stated. "I'm the only one here who knows them."
"I haven't given you permission to leave," Daenerys said.
Jon turned to face her. "With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I am a king. And I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger... because it's our best chance."
Daenerys and Tyrion shared a look, and then, she nodded.
Emmelyne took Jon by the arm, whispering to him. "I'm going with you. I'll need some dragonglass arrows."