Love is the Death of Duty

Chapter 4

The wolf's head flew across the room, clattered against the far wall, and sprung back with what seemed like twice the force before it came to a bouncing halt on the floor. Daenerys and Tyrion had been standing in the war room with only Missandei for company, when she had she made it her personal mission to eviscerate every single wood piece in the likeness of a wolf. Now, Tyrion was taking cover behind the edge of the table, whilst Missandei stood near the entrance of the room, as her queen took her frustration out on the innocent figurines.

"Dragonglass? What in seven hells even is Dragonglass?", she rounded on Tyrion, her eyes burning with Violet flame. "You told me you liked this man," she seethed, her stare burning holes into Tyrion's' small figure, "but in the time he has been here, he has refused to bend the knee, denied me the largest of my seven kingdoms, and belittled my conquest by placing a supposed invasion of the dead at a higher importance." Her voice was so filled with disgust and contempt that it was nearly enough to dissuade Tyrion from trying to make her see reason. Nearly.

"Your grace, I must admit that opening negotiations could have gone better," Tyrion began to say, to which Daenerys snorted in indignation and walked to the fire, staring into its flames. Tyrion continued, "but now more than ever, Jon Snow is of increasing importance to us. We have lost our eyes from Dorne, and its quite probable that both of the greyjoys are dead; as you said, the North is the largest of the seven kingdoms, and, at this point, the last best chance you've got for powerful allies to support your claim. Jon Snow commands the respect and loyalty of his people, so whether you like it or not, we must try again to bridge the gap between you and come to an agreement."

Tyrion looked to Daenerys, to find that a soft, weary expression encapsulating his queens face. Standing in the red orange light the fire let off, she looked twice her age, her young mind and body drained by the magnitude of what she was trying to accomplish. That moment of weakness lasted only for a fleeting moment, before she turned her eyes back to her companions.

"How? How do I get this man on my side?", she asked, her attention focused on Tyrion. He offered her a small, hesitant smile. "Give him the Dragonglass, your grace. Give him something, ask nothing in return, and he will respond in kind. You lose nothing by letting him mine it, you didn't even know it was here," he said, extending his hand towards Daenerys. "Jon is a good man; I believe that in my heart. No doubt he has changed, and certainly he is stubborn, but I cannot imagine that he is unreasonable. Extend him your hand, and in time, he will take it," Tyrion looked up at his Queen, his arm outstretched. Daenerys placed her hand in his, and met his eyes. "What does he even want with the glass anyways?", she asked, the question seemingly aimed at thin air. Tyrion shrugged. "I'll find out for you, if Varys hasn't already," he said, drawing back his arm, "but there is one thing that cannot happen." Daenerys's eyes met his. "Jon Snow cannot be allowed to leave."

…

Jon sat on railing of the walkway, staring out at the vast expanse of blue that lay between him and his home. The waves lapped the stony outcropping on which the walkway was built, salty spray lightly kissing his face. The wind blew through his hair with vigor, and Jon had to squint his eyes to see clearly, such was the brightness of the sunlight reflecting off the waves. He had been sitting there since the Queen had dismissed him, a sense of uselessness completely encapsulating him when he had found no sign of his ship in the harbor.

Daenerys was as intriguing to him as she was infuriating. From what he understood of her past, it seemed somewhat impossible for a person to have overcome the hardships that she had, to be in the position that she was today. Part of him wished that he could give her what she wanted; part of him wished that he didn't have the whole weight of the north resting upon his shoulders. She seemed a capable leader, and a strong, committed woman, if not a bit arrogant.

That train of thought was silenced with aplomb by the part of him that saw a woman incapable of looking past her own selfish agenda. It was silenced by the man that he had been reborn as, who knew his duty went beyond the whims and wishes of this Targaryen Queen. He saw yet another person who refused to even give thought as to the existence of the Others. He saw another obstacle in his path, blocking him from returning to Winterfell, a place he was truly needed.

He was so consumed with his own thoughts, and the natural splendor that lay before him, that he failed to notice Tyrion approaching. The dwarf stopped a few feet from Jon, unnoticed, and stood, waiting to be acknowledged. The scars that marred Jons face, the rough beard that lined his chin and his upper lip, his aura of power and determination; Tyrion knew that he was in the presence of a man with a purpose, a man who had reason to risk his life to come here: a man that could be reasoned with.

"Jon."

Tyrion's voice shook Jon from his stupor. The Northman looked down at Tyrion, his expression one of disinterest.

"Tyrion. Where is my ship?", He replied, "Every minute I waste here, the dead get closer. I need to go home." Jon looked away from the dwarf, casting his eyes back to where the sky met the sea. Tyrion took a step closer.

"Are you ready to give up that easily?", Tyrion asked Jon, "You say you came here seeking Dragonglass. How is obsidian worth meritting a trip this far, if you're not even going to fight for it?".

Jon kept his eyes fixed on the sky.

"Dragonglass kills white walkers," he said eventually, "I was hoping to bring as much as I could carry back to winterfell. A friend of mine, a maester at the Citadel, sent me a raven informing me that this island sits on a mountain of it; obtaining it wouldn't secure our survival, but it would give us a chance."

"I came here knowing that I could find nothing, or die in the process.", his face was grim when he looked at Tyrion. "I don't need to tell you how we Northerners fair when we come south. But this Daenerys seems as though she cannot be negotiated with, and I'm wasting time by remaining here any longer. The North will make due with the provisions we have." His head dropped to look at his feet when he finished speaking, and when he raised it again, he seemed resigned to the fact that his voyage had been a failure.

"Actually," Tyrion said, a smile beginning to form on his face, "the Queen has had a change of heart about the Dragonglass."

Jon's turned his head so quickly, Tyrion was sure that he had strained his neck.

"Go on," Jon said, the slight tremor in his voice not going unnoticed by The Queens Hand.

"Daenerys will allow you to mine as much of the Glass as you want, and will provide you with all the resources, materials and manpower that you may need to do so. She asks for nothing in return, but I would personally advise that you rethink your stance towards her. She hasn't gotten this far by only making enemies, Jon Snow."

Jon's mouth hung open in a rather undignified manner before he seemingly remembered that he had control over his jaw. His mouth pressed into a tight line that became then became an awkward smile. Perhaps he had been quick to judge this southern Queen, he thought.

"Tell your grace that she has my thanks," he said to Tyrion, who was sure that The King in the North's gratitude was sincere.

"Another thing, Jon," Tyrion said as he turned to go, "if what you say is true about the Others marching south, Daenerys could be a valuable ally. Reconsider bending the knee, my friend. It could save us all."

…

Daenerys's eyes opened on a field of white. She was immediately chilled to her core as the snows and the harsh winds buffeted against her. Lost and confused, she began to stumble forwards, raising a hard to shield her eyes from the stinging gale. She had heard a dragon cry from somewhere in front of her; a piercing, heart wrenching note that tore her asunder. She followed the sound, and emerged from the gale to see a massive wall of blue ice in front of her, reaching as high as the eye could perceive. She could make out slight patches of the night sky as she stared up at the dense grey clouds that seemed to consume the ice in front of her. She had never seen so many stars in her life; they were so dense and packed together, that it made Daenerys catch her breath. Never in her life had she seen such natural splendor.

Another cry shook her from her stargazing, the sound increasing in desperation from the last. Before her lay Viserion, his golden scales studded with frost. Blood seeped from underneath his body, coming towards her in torrents. The smell overpowered her senses, making her gag, tears springing to her eyes. How had she not seen him before? She rushed towards her child, the tears now flowing down her face as she called for him desperately. She began to wade through the pool of ankle deep blood, covering her mouth to attempt from retching. Her sobs wracked her body as she kneeled in front of her child; her sweetest, most docile child. So unlike her brother for which he was named. His eyes were closed, his monstrous teeth slightly bared. She searched for a wound, and when she found none, flung her body over his neck, holding him tightly as she continued to weep.

The cold seemed to intensify, and the wind picked up speed. The storm had reached them, again, and it had returned with vengeance. Daenerys was flung off of Viserions neck as his body began twitch and shudder. Stunned, Daenerys watched with horror as Viserion raised his head, blood still seeping from under his scales. He let out another cry; but this one was different. In the place of sadness and desperation, there was something much darker, and more feral. His eyes snapped open and he gazed at her, no sign of recognition in his icy blue eyes.

Daenerys woke in a cold sweat to the crash of thunder and the pounding of the waves along the shore. It was still dark outside; she could hear the wind howling outside her windows as her mind replayed her dream, Viserion's blue eyes filling her with dread.

I hope you guys are enjoying the story. This is the longest chapter I've written so far, coming in at just under 2 thousand words. I've come up with a road map for this story; it will probably be 15-16 chapters, and anywhere between 17K-25K words. Please continue to favorite and follow the story, and give me feedback if you deem fit.

Thank you! Chapter 5 is currently in progress.

UPDATE: I have decided to not stagger the releases of my chapters. Withholding content that I have worked hard on is too difficult; I will be posting chapters as soon as I deem them ready.