She had not intended to fly to Winterfell.

Well, she had wanted to but had been advised against it for fear of intimidation. Something which had caused another argument between her advisors. An activity that was becoming more and more frequent that at times, she didn't know which option to go for. How could someone rule when their own advisors were at one another's throats? Nay, it was something that needed to be addressed. Right now though, that was the last thing on her mind.

They'd sailed to White Harbour first. The dozen Unsullied looking around in awe at everything. Missandei letting out an excited yelp when the first snowflake fell from the sky. It had been a brief moment, but one that made her friend look like a little girl who didn't know any of the horrors she had gone through. Viserys had always said the North was filled with backstabbers and abominations, Ser Barristan said the people here were wary of outsiders and were blunt to a fault when it came to their words. Which one to believe? For so long, she had clung to everything she had been told as she was growing up yet those surrounding her told her everything she knew was fabricated to weigh heavily on her House's side.

At first, Dany had been insulted at the words. Feeling anger running through her to a point it were like her blood was boiling within. As time went on though and the more she heard from people she had come to trust, that was when she realised how precarious a position she was in. Remembering words Tyrion had spoken before he had left with Lady Olenna. Battles can win a war, but winning a war isn't guaranteed to win a crown. The saying had puzzled her but it had been Varys who tore apart the meaning of them. Nay, they had to be political alongside tactical. Being the latter would eventually win her the crown and the Iron Throne her own ancestor had forged in the flames of his dragon Balerion, but it wasn't guaranteed to keep her the prize.

Varys had suggested marriage, and when she had decided to head to the North he had even suggested offering her hand to the King in the North. A title that should not exist anymore as Torrhen Stark knelt and gave his oath in perpetuity. If Jon Snow were only in open rebellion against Cersei Lannister, she wouldn't have minded. Likely would've offered aid to put an end to the woman. But he was in open rebellion against her own claim too, a claim she had through birth right. She had the blood of King's in her veins alongside the blood of the dragon and of Old Valyria. She was born to rule and rule she would.

Yet when they docked in White Harbour and she took in the North for the first time, she noticed something odd. Mayhaps it was because she knew the population of cities in the south or remembering how massive the Free Cities were, but White Harbour looked like a port village. Ser Barristan confirming the only city in the North had a population of only twenty thousand. In Essos that wasn't even considered a town. From there, she had been made aware the entire population of the Kingdom was just shy of one million- less than Kings Landing. A man she did not know rode over then, handing out a letter for her to read. Cracking the seal and recognising the writing as she had read the original letter hundreds- maybe thousands- of times by now.

Only then did she turn to Ser Barristan and say she was going to fly forward to Winterfell. The second letter simply saying her granduncle mayhaps only had weeks left to live. The more time she spent with the family member she never knew was still alive, the better. Her Hand, Grey Worm, and Missandei hesitantly mounted Drogon behind her. Ordering those remaining to rest for the night and ride out in the morning as originally planned. Then, they had taken off towards the heart of the North.

She'd long gotten used to cold air being so high up, but this was something else. Having to clench her teeth to prevent them from chattering and her ears going numb. This didn't detach from the scenery below. Snow was everywhere. On mountains, on trees, all over the ground that no roads were visible. Only the occasional peak of green of leaves or pale blue from rivers, streams, and lakes. It used to snow in Braavos and Lorath, but at best it was a light fall that would melt as soon as the blistering hot sun escaped from the clouds. It was beautiful, there was no other way to put it. A part of her wanting to land in the middle of nowhere and feel it through her fingers.

Ser Barristan had told her often that in the North, no one cared for show. The castles and holdfasts all being built for function unlike in the south. All being rather basic in structure but even from being as high up as she was, she could tell they could easily withstand most attacks. Winterfell was much the same, but the sheer size of the castle took her breath away. Easily five times the size of Dragonstone, with a large Godswood attached if the bright red leaves that looked like blood on the fresh snow was anything to go by. Ordering Drogon to begin lowering to the ground as they spiralled closer and closer. Seeing people below looking up in a mixture of awe and terror, the tiled courtyard alongside a lot of guards. A massive cloud of dust rising as her dragon landed on the ground as they all slowly dismounted, Drogon flying away again not long after.

People were looking to her with various expressions. Some with disgust, some with anger, some with intrigue. Similar looks being directed to Grey Worm and Missandei. Not Barristan though, those who recognised him looking to her Hand with utmost respect and pity as with the cane it was obvious he could no longer wield a sword. She could see a mixture of sigils. From Arryn, to Tollett, to Manderly, to Cerwyn. Creasing her brows momentarily at seeing the sigil of House Dayne, wondering why anyone from Dorne would be here. Then her eyes landed on four people.

The tallest was a young woman with hair so red it looked like freshly polished copper. Falling to her waist and with the sides braided back to keep it from her face. Pale skin and eyes so blue they looked like tiny sapphires. The second an older man. Noticing a few fingers were missing on one of his hands and his hair dotted with grey. His expression seemed kind however- although she'd learned the hard way a kind face isn't something to immediately feel comfortable around. The third could only be the man calling himself King in the North. Only a little taller than herself, with eyes a dark grey and hair as black as the night sky. A basic circlet adorning his head to signify his status in the north and a sword with a wolfs head pommel strapped to his hip.

"Welcome to Winterfell, we did not expect for you to arrive for another week at least."

The words were still, showing no signs of fear over her. Realising with a start just how vulnerable she was here. So, she plastered on a smile and nodded her head because that had been the initial plan. The fourth person caught her attention though and she immediately felt her eyes well up. His hair was as silver-white as her own but whether that was due to age or from being a Targaryen was impossible to say. Eyes clouded over to confirm he indeed could not see but there was a fleck of lavender underneath the clouded area. Using a cane to stand up much like Barristan but for completely different reasons. Courtly mannerisms demanded it of her to speak to the King in the North, but courtly mannerisms did not matter. Picking up her skirts and running directly for Aemon and engulfing him into a tight hug. Tucking her head into the side of his neck and desperately trying to hold back her tears. Jon Snow speaking some words but she did not hear them, all of her focus on the only other family member she had left.

Dany only pulled away when they were escorted inside. The décor matching the outside very much but the warmth within confused her initially. She'd need to ask about that, although she was glad that she was beginning to feel her ears again. Entering a room covered in books with a table and a bed, knowing immediately this was where he stayed within Winterfell. It was minimal though, as a Targaryen he deserved an entire wing. Raising his hand ever so slightly and whispering if he could touch her face which she happily accepted. Him stating she looked like her mother almost made her cry once again as she slowly sat down at the table and eyeing the room.

"I am sure the King will apologise for the lack of preparation. Like he said, we did not expect you for another week minimum. We were preparing a feast and a warm welcome."

Anger burned within at him openly referring to him as King. She was the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and the North was one of said Kingdoms. As a result of this, she was the Queen and not Jon. That was a problem that could be answered at a later date though. Swallowing her pride and replying.

"I will ensure to apologise to his Grace for my earlier arrival when I see him."

The words tasted like bile on her lips, but Barristan had instructed her as had Tyrion and Olenna. According to Maester Pylos, he had been chosen by his people to rule them. If she were to dismiss the decision she would be dismissing the people here too. Thus, making it harder to bring the North into the fold when the time eventually came.

"You can call him Jon in here. Aye, he may be a King but he hates it."

Her eyebrows creased a little at this, quirking her head to the side in questioning but remembered he could not see her.

"How so?"

"The same reasons I refused the crown in favour of my brother, niece. He hates responsibility, hates being seen as something higher than he sees himself as, and cares nought for politics. All of which are needed with a ruler. Although he handles it well given the circumstances."

Mayhaps it would not be so difficult to take the North then. If the King in the North did not want to be King in the North, perhaps he would be amendable to being Warden of the North. That was something for a later time though. Only then, did she let the joy fill her heart and allow her guard to fall down as she was currently alone in a room with a family member long thought dead. According to Olenna, he had been born in 198 AC to King Maekar Targaryen and Queen Dyanna Dayne. Eyes widening ever so slightly as that was likely why the Dayne men were here. Said to be blood of the First Men more than they were Rhoynish descent like much of Dorne, and those with blood of the first men were fiercely loyal to family even if numerous generations separated them from one another.

"You deserved so much more than the Wall, uncle."

"Mayhaps I did, although the Wall was where I was sent. It wasn't all bad though because I did not need to hide my name there. There are so little of our House left, dearest niece, we need to stick together. For a long time, the name Targaryen has been a curse, but no more."

"No more."

She echoed his words, realising she found comfort within them. For two and twenty years, Daenerys had believed herself the last of her House, and had tried to embody as many of her ancestors actions as she could and often struggled. She need not struggle anymore, for now she knew she was not the last member. Even if she had days, weeks, months, or mayhaps years with Aemon, she knew she would cherish the little time she had left.

"I have a gift for you."

Her eyebrows creased a little as he slowly pushed himself up from the table, taking a moment to regain his balance before walking over to where a long skinny box was. Standing up herself to pick it up in case it was heavy which she found to her delight it wasn't. Placing it on the wood and start undoing the latches that only now did she notice had the three-headed dragon of their House carved into it alongside what appeared to be glyphs of some kind. Opening the box and for a moment being confused before realisation sunk in for her.

"It can't be, it's been lost for decades- "

"I thought so too. On this, you can thank Brandon Stark and Meera Reed. It was them who found it north of the Wall and brought it back. I'm too old to wield it, so there is only one person who can."

"I don't know how to use a sword though- "

Aemon chuckled a little under his breath, finding something funny but she did not know what.

"I'm not stupid, niece. I know you did not just come here to spend the little time I have left in this world with me, you came here to treat with the King. I will tell you something, as much as Jon despises being King, he will not spit in his peoples faces for giving up the North easily. Win him over, his sister over, his brother over, and his people over, and you will have no issue. The North values strength in a woman, Northerner's do not care for politics or the great game as those in the south call it. You cannot play the game here, for you will only be burned."

Dany went quiet for a few minutes, thinking his words through and trying to pick the meaning apart. She failed however, something which annoyed her greatly as she looked around the room again and taking everything in. Numerous books all neatly aligned from largest to smallest, pots of potions and herbs, scrolls of parchment littered around, alongside some instruments she had never seen before never mind would know what they were. From the smile on his face, he seemed happy here. Not a thought she took solace in because if he was happy here then she owed Jon Snow, and owing people was something she hated with a passion.

"Ask his Grace to teach you the basics. Even if my eyes failed me long ago, it does not take eyes to listen. He has been teaching Lady Sansa how to defend herself too should the need arise. You could also have Ser Barristan watch over and aid- "

"Ser Barristan cannot walk without a cane anymore, uncle. Himself and my commander of war Grey Worm were ambushed in Meereen. Both survived, but the older will never be what he once was. Hence why I stripped him of his white cloak and instead appointed him my Hand."

The memory of realising what had happened when she took in the elderly Knight after the attack tugged at the forefront of her mind. Hopelessness as healers worked on him and giving her warnings there was a high chance he would not survive his wounds. Whilst he had, the wounds had festered. Eating away at the muscles in his legs and weakening them to a point of no return.

"A man does not need to be involved in the action to give pointers. Ser Barristan is a name of legend in Westeros, use it to your advantage. The fact himself and Grey Worm held off an attack by themselves will spread like wildfire in Winterfell. The North does value strength."

She should've brought Tyrion with her, or even Olenna. The latter would be better received, especially as she was almost kin to the very man seated across from her currently. Picking apart words to figure out the true meaning was something she would need to work on. Alas, the two were likely in Casterly Rock by now as she had left a sennight after they had alongside Ellaria, Theon, and Yara. No word had been sent about either party as of yet which she supposed was a good thing. At least, that was what she was telling herself. Right now, she could not afford to lose the littles allies she had.

"Now, I would like to know about your adventures and how you successfully hatched the dragons."

A smile formed on Dany's face, being all too happy to spill everything to Aemon. She talked for what felt like hours and only did so when he had stated he was tired and would continue in the morning. Asking a servant to show her the way to where she was being set up. Eyes widening as she walked into the chamber at how ornate it was. Whilst nowhere near as ornate as Dragonstone was, it was a change from the plain decoration throughout the rest of Winterfell. Feeling warmth within but not seeing the hearth alight. Asking the question out of curiosity more than anything. The servant bowed her head lightly but did reply.

"Winterfell is built atop hot springs. When Brandon the Builder was planning out the construction, he decided to put pipes within the walls so the hot water could be spread equally throughout the castle."

Her hand moved to the wall as if searching for proof of the claim, feeling the stones hotter than the room itself was meaning it was truth. Clever tactic. Whilst Brandon the Builder had long since faded into legend and many debated whether he had ever lived in the first place, it was still a story. The man who built the Wall, Winterfell, and Storm's End too if the tales were true. Structures that had stood for thousands of years and had withstood who knows how many attacks. Food was brought to her, at first being insulted that she had not been invited to sup before being told she had missed such whilst she was speaking to her granduncle. Taking the steaming plate thankfully and drooling at the roasted venison covered in a thick meaty sauce she had never had before. A roll freshly baked within the last few hours that she tore pieces off to soak up what remained.

The next day came soon, Missandei timidly knocking on the door before entering with a dress for her to wear. Her friend covered in furs as it was clear she had not anticipated such. When they had landed on Dragonstone, she had commented on how cold it was, receiving a rather rude awakening now.

"Lady Sansa handed me this too, it does not go with the dress but- "

"There is no need to match, Missandei. What do you think of Winterfell?"

"Freezing. I don't know how people live here."

A small snort left her at this as she took the deep blue dress from her friend alongside the black fur hooded cloak that had been gifted to her by Sansa Stark. It wasn't fancy by any means, clearly made simply for function and no other reason, but she was grateful all the same. Missandei helping her with her intricate braids for the day to keep her silver hair from her eyes. Aemon's words circling in her mind as realisation finally dawned on her to what he was hinting at. If she were to win the North, she would need to win over the people. She would not succeed in doing so if she were to play the game as he so eloquently put it. She would need to work hard to succeed. Three braids were added on either side, each with pieces left to flow through into the next before being combined into a twisted one that fell to just below her shoulder blades. Before she had hatched Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, her hair had fallen long passed her waist, something Viserys would use as when she did not act as he wanted her too, he would pull the long strands until they were close to being ripped from her scalp. The fire had burned it all away however, and she had been growing it back ever since.

Adopting the Dothraki custom of only wearing a braid when a victory was one. As hers was so short though, she had put a twist on it. Instead of a singular long braid that would not be cut until defeated, she would add a braid for every victory. She was the first Khaleesi without a Khal by her side, something that had never existed before. Or if it had, was long lost to history. A different servant than before stating they had been summoned to break their fast with the King, Lady Stark, and Lord Stark. A few bannermen as well. She nodded gently before following afterwards, trying to remember the way so she could familiarise herself with the monstrously sized castle. There was a single table, with a dozen people seated around it with two open seats. Noticing Grey Worm and Ser Barristan already seated and it wasn't lost on her that the former was getting looks of disgust thrown his way.

"Your Grace, please join us and break your fast alongside us."

A few tense shoulders were obvious now, the men here not liking whom they had named King referring to her as such.

"I apologise for missing sup the night prior, your Grace. I lost track of time."

The words still tasted like bile on her tongue, but he had referred to her with titles therefore she had to refer to him with titles. As much as she hated it. Taking the seat beside Sansa Stark whose face was oddly still, reminding her greatly of Olenna with her tendency to do the same. Despite this, she could feel the ice from the younger woman. Servants appearing carrying loaded trays of fruits, porridge, slices of meat, and a couple loaves of freshly baked bread. Helping herself to some salmon and loading the few slices of bread she had taken with butter which immediately melted from the heat as it had come out of the oven very recently.

"Allow me to introduce everyone at the table. My sister Lady Sansa, my brother Lord Brandon, Lady Meera Reed, Lord Cley Cerwyn, Lady Lyanna Mormont, Lord Yohn Royce, and Lady Anya Waynwood."

She nodded gently their way and returned the favour.

"This is Missandei, my handmaiden and one of my most trusted advisors. Grey Worm my commander of war, and my Hand Ser Barristan Selmy."

A few gazes turned to the latter in awe, but Lord Cerwyn broke this as he sneered.

"What kind of a name is Grey Worm- "

"Lord Cerwyn, you will not insult them whilst they are here. They are being given guest rights, respect it."

The younger pursed his lips but still shot a distrustful glare at her commander of war but wisely did not say much else. The King had spoken those words almost with a growl in his tone, a wolf indeed. Only noticing now the massive white wolf curled on the floor just behind him. It was huge, much larger than a normal wolf. Only recalling then when Tyrion had stated all of the Stark children had a direwolf when they were younger. Was this the last one? If so, that was a pity.

"Grey Worm was given the choice to change his name when I freed him from his Master, Lord Cerwyn. He choose not to."

"It is the name I drew the day I become free."

Talk broke out between them all as servants appeared again with small bowls of a steaming hot soup. Daenerys not knowing if she could handle anymore but found she could not ignore the delicious scent. Taking another slice of bread that had cooled down and dipping it in. By the time she was finished, her stomach was cramping awkwardly but she did not show such, keeping her face as still as she possibly could. Everyone bar the King and his sister left afterwards to go about whatever tasks they had.

"My uncle was not invited?"

"Aemon breaks his fast earlier than everyone else as he wakes at dawn to answer any ravens that have come in through the night. He will join us shortly."

She nodded gently at this, accepting the reasoning behind his absence. Ignoring the whisper in her mind that he had not been invited because like her, he was a Targaryen.

"How did he come to be in your service? Why did you free him of his oaths considering Stark's hate Targaryen's."

With good reason, as much as she hated to admit it. For so long she had thought her House to have been wronged when the truth was that her House had carried out one too many wrongs against everyone else. Her brother had taken, raped, and ordered their aunt killed. Her father had burned their grandfather alive with his son watching slowly strangling himself on a noose designed to tighten the more a person struggled. Images she wanted to banish from her mind but found she could not do so.

"When I was chosen to be King by the Northern Lord's alongside the Vale, we needed a Maester. Winterfell's Maester was killed by the Ironborn and the replacement was only here as he feared House Bolton. He was sworn to the Dreadfort, so when House Bolton went into extinction he travelled back meaning we needed one. The Faith is firmly under Queen Cersei, so we were not getting one from the Citadel, and a man as kind and knowledgeable as Aemon did not deserve to spend the little time he has left freezing in a tower at the end of the world."

She had to bite her tongue at this, anger rising up within as she read between the lines. So, he hadn't been freed solely out of being kind. He was freed because he was needed. A dog to be whistled on when commanded and wondering if he knew too this was one of the reasons he had been called back. A part of her did not believe he knew, otherwise he would not speak so highly of the man in front of her who dared to call himself King in the North when the North was one of the Seven Kingdoms. They were hers by right of both blood and oath. She would tolerate it for the time being as they were treating her decently alongside her uncle, more than they deserved in truth, but it did not change the facts.

"House Targaryen is grateful for House Stark's hospitality- "

"There is no need for that, your Grace. We are alone now, no more flowery words. We know you are not only here for your uncle even if you deny such a thing. You are here to command me to bend my knee to your cause. You will find yourself sorely disappointed because I do not intend to bend my knee either by will or by force. I was chosen by my people, much like you were chosen in Essos. I will not throw it in their faces."

Now, her lips pursed and she cocked her head to the side.

"Your Grace, do you know what in perpetuity means?"

"Aye, it means an indefinite length of time. However, indefinity does not mean forever. You can ask your uncle, as it was he who broke this down to myself. The indefinite is broken when one side greatly wrongs the other."

That was not the definition, at all. Or at least, not the one she had grown up with nor the one his ancestor had sworn to her own ancestor.

"Your ancestor swore a sacred oath to be leal to House Targaryen forever- "

"I am not held to my ancestors vows, your Grace. With all due respect, I do not know you. I will not hold to an oath made more than three hundred years before."

"An oath is an oath. Torrhen Stark bent his knee for his people. Do you want to spit on your own ancestor for his decision?"

Her voice was getting a little louder but she did keep her face still despite this. Analysing the two people in the rooms faces for any sign she could use. Yet both kept their faces ominously still too.

"Your own ancestor agreed too, your Grace. That no grievous insult would come to mine own House. Yet that did happen. Do you know what your father done? Of how he strung our grandfather above a roaring fire in his armour being cooked alive with his son being strangled directly in front of him? Of how your brother kidnapped and raped our aunt despite being wed with children? Of how after this your father still ordered Jon Arryn to hand over the heads of Robert Baratheon and my father? One House Stark might've been able to forgive in time. But not all. I will not bend my knee, and that decision is final."

She sighed a little as she took this in, the latter one she had never been made aware of. Carefully thinking over her next words

"You would break faith with House Targaryen?"

"Break faith? I think it was your father who broke faith with House Stark, your Grace- "

"My father was an evil man."

It was the first time she had spoken those words, and they tasted worse than calling the man in front of her by titles.

"On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your House. I also ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two House's were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms has ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with a Targaryen seated on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. Myself and my uncle are the last Targaryen's, Jon Snow. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together, we will save Westeros from those who would destroy it."

It went quiet for a few moments, the other two taking in her words and feeling more ice than before from Sansa. Even if her face was ominously still, the dislike was as thick in the air as fog on a cold winter morning.

"You are right. You are not guilty of your fathers crimes. And I am not beholden to my ancestors vows. I am King in the North whether you like this or not, Queen Daenerys. I would be happy to discuss allying with yourself, but I will not be one of your subjects to be whistled on like a dog when the need arises. Tell me, when was the last time House Stark received anything from House Targaryen in thanks for our service?"

Her lips were curling in now, anger raging within her as she desperately fought not to lose her composure.

"Was it when Viserra Targaryen was promised to Theomore Manderly? Nay, because she broke her neck days before she was to set sail. Was it when a promise was made that Joffrey Velaryon would wed one of Lord Cregan's daughters? Nay, as he died. If a person dies by custom the next person takes the others place. Therefore, Gael Targaryen should've taken her sisters place and Aegon or Viserys should've taken Joffrey's place. That is Westerosi custom, not just Northern custom. It is the reason our father wed Lady Catelyn after our uncle was executed. The truth is, neither House Targaryen nor House Stark needed one another, your Grace, and that fact remains true to this day- "

"Your Grace, you must come quickly."

Their gazes broke at this as he snapped his head around to a man wearing a sigil she did not recognise. Of a ship with what looked like a moon above it. The King standing up and walking over as Lady Sansa made her way over too. Words were whispered but this was shattered by Sansa cursing loudly. Despite knowing this was a private conversation, she was still listening in, wanting to see if there was anything there she could use to her advantage in winning over the North.

"Send riders in all directions. I want both of them found and brought back to Winterfell. Tell them the ones who succeed will be rewarded greatly. We cannot let that snake out of our grasp."

"And Lord Harrold, your Grace?"

"Will be executed. Harrold Hardyng has already insulted me on numerous occasions alongside my sister and Princess Arianne. Send a raven to Robyn Arryn explaining the decision and if he wishes to be here to witness he is more than welcome to come from the Eyrie."