Hey there you guys!
Love you all so much, for the lovely reviews I received on the previous chapter. You have all my gratitude for your support. I'm also happy to see so many new readers aboard this story.
Now, I admit I'm not happy with this new chapter..I had a bit of trouble with it, [ a beta would have been great...] but it is what it is. A needed "bridge" to what is to come.
"It was..." Dany's voice faltered, "...a thing crawled out of nightmares." If she closed her eyes she could see it still: the severed hand writhing, fingers opening and closing. The dead man's gashed and swollen face, ropes of torn flesh hanging. And no blood. Not a single drop. Chilled to the bone, she clutched her lion pelt to her chest. It was too big for her and had a musty smell, but she always felt safer wrapped in Drogo's lionskin.
Tyrion listened quietly, swirling the wine in his cup. " I always thought they were the stuff of legends," he confessed, remembering how he had mocked Jon Snow when talking about the Wall and the Others. "I thought them tall tales that old women whisper by the fire." The imp stared eerily into his goblet while he stirred the red liquid inside, as if it kept some deep, dark secret.
Daenerys watched him across the table. "What is it?" she inquired evenly, finally shrugging off the lion pelt. Of all the rooms in Winterfell's Great Keep, she'd been granted the hottest. The late Lady Stark's rooms. Scalding waters from the underground hot springs rushed through the walls, driving the chill from the stones and filling the air with a moist warmth. "I can hear you thinking from here, Lord Lannister!" she explained "You're always saying something, even when you keep your mouth shut."
Tyrion gave a crooked smile. Clever girl. She never ceased to amaze him. "I was thinking that these aren't bad news entirely." He stopped, took a sip of his wine, then set his cup aside. Dany waited in silence, but her eyes burned with bright curiosity. "The King in the North needs your army and dragons," the Hand pointed out, "You need to remove his threat to your claim... " silence hung in the air for a moment, "There might be a way to obtain what you want, Your Grace."
The Queen's eyes narrowed down intently, "You mean ...let him fight those monsters alone? No! No one will be left to die. You are all my people. That's —"
"—not what I had in mind." Tyrion finished for her in a slightly chiding tone. But it was nice to see his Queen dismiss such cruel option decidedly. "I was thinking that his claim and yours could become one." Although her face didn't show it, Dany's heart gave a lurch. "Your Grace has proven in Mereen, that she can put her feelings aside and make a political match."
A political match. She'd left Mereen aware of this possibility, but hoped it wouldn't come to it. The prospect of another loveless marriage left a bitter taste on her tongue. "You'd have me take Jon Snow as a husband?" There was no emotion in her voice, no emotion on her features either. She uttered the phrse mindfully, making sure of it.
"The highborn will not look kindly to a Queen who comes to conquer their lands..." Tyrion explained, "But if she were to marry a Westerosi Lord... If she were to adapt to Westerosi society as much as possible...Even Aegon and his sisters had to change and adapt. "
"Why Snow? Young Arryn is true born and much more easier to—"
"—Lord Arryn is a sickly child, poisoned by Littlefinger's influence. Jon Snow commands the loyalty of three Kingdoms." Tyrion let that hang for a moment, then asked, "Would you rather risk a rebellion, my Queen? Have the lords rally in Stark's name and turn him into a symbol ?"
Dany's eyes closed in resignation. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war. "Tell me Lord Tyrion, what does my prospective husband think of this?
"What?" Jon felt a jolt of surprise and stared at his sister in disbelief. He was not at all sure how he felt about what he had just heard.
"I said, Queen Daenerys Targaryen is offering her full support, in exchange of a marriage alliance." Sansa sat composedly on a chair in her brother's quarters while she delivered the news. Beside her Ser Davos frowned, obviously concerned by the topic, while Tormund munched on an apple. Although the three were not officially members of the King's Council, Jon valued their advice more than anything and relied on their judgement.
"She can't be serious!" Jon's gaze intensified and he looked over at Davos, as if the gray man could explain. "Sansa!" his eyes snapped back to her, "King Aerys Targaryen burned our grandfather alive. He killed our uncle."
"That's all in the past, brother." Jon looked over his sister who spoke firmly, convincingly. Who is this woman? Jon wondered. Where is the girl who dreamed of love stories? Sometimes he didn't recognize her. "You're King now, " the redhead added, "and in these difficult times, I believe we would gain the most by allying your throne with the power and resources of Kings Landing. Daenerys Targaryen is the best match for you and for House Stark."
For me?! Jon glanced away, than sat up and crossed the room. He stopped by the hearth. King in the North... and I'm not even free to settle the aspects of my own life. He sighed bitterly, knowing that his duties were much higher than this. To give the living a standing chace against the White Walkers, he had to secure the Queen's support. Yet he couldn't do that, as long as Daenerys perceived him as a threat.
"Won't the Northern Houses be offended if I take a southern bride?" he pointed out.
"With all due respect, Sire," Davos took a respectful step forward, "the Northern Houses are suffering greatly from the deprivations of the war. Wagons of wheat and barley sent from the South will surely lessen the sting."
As will the protection of her army and dragons. The admission brought a bitter twist to Jon's mouth. Submit, and I promise you food and safety. Submit and live. Or don't; and die fighting the Others. It wasn't really a choice. Absentmindedly, he watched the ever-changing dance of flames. That's what she was. Fire. Beautiful to look at, but capable of burning everything to the ground.
"Enough for now." Jon's voice was tired, but firm. They had been up half the night making plans, discussing. "I'm gratefull for your advice, but we should all get some sleep. You'll have my decision in the morning." Davos left first, with a short nod, than Sansa followed, offering a reassuring smile. Only Tormund remained behind. He glared, standing at an arm's lenghth.
"Lighten up lad!" the wildling demanded. "There's worse fates than marrying a moonmaiden. Aye, she's a tad scrawny and has a foul temper, but I wouldn't mind her warming me bed. I would-"
"You'd best guard that tongue,Tormund," Jon cut in, "especially, when discussing about her". His tone was serious, but friendly, "Daenerys Targaryen is no moonmaid. She's a queen, and I won't have bad blood between her men and mine."
"She's a queen," Tormund mocked, while stepping out, "A spoiled little minx, that one! Harr! She wouldn't be able to hold a spear." The horn-blower broke into a hearty laughter then stopped, looking down the corridor. "The woman in your sister's service tho' - now that's a woman fit to be queen," the wildling declared, with a wicked glint in his eye.
In her chambers, Daenerys was still awake. She sat, quietly and pensive, as Missandei gently combed the tangles out of her hair. "Your Grace should sleep", the Naathi girl spoke in a small voice, "otherwise her beauty will be gone and the northern suitor might lose interest." Her hands sifted slowly through the queens silvery locks in a gentle, soothing motion.
"The northern suitor has no interest in me," Dany replied softly, "It's not my beauty he desires." A small laugh of disbelief escaped Missandei lips.
"No man could ever look on you, and not desire you, My Queen."
"Not him." Daenerys turned to face her loyal attendant. She met the girl's golden gaze. "Have you seen his eyes, my sweetling? They're so cold... They say the Starks have frozen hearts.""
"Rumors, most gracious one. This one thinks the northerner has kind eyes." The comb went down the silky locks with a regular movement. "Peope say he's brave, and just, and that he has a gentle heart too."
Dany remained silent. From the arched windows she saw that a full moon had risen. It made her remember the night of her first wedding, when Khal Drogo had claimed her maidenhead beneath the stranger stars. How frightened she had been! And how excited. Would it be the same with him? No, she quickly dismissed the thought, I am not the girl I was, and he is not my sun-and-stars.
Late into the night Sansa had finally drifted off to sleep. She felt herself slowly sliding into it's comfort when suddenly, a great clamor arose - voices followed by the splintering sound of furniture breaking, and solid thuds. Her blue eyes snapped open-wide and she sat up in the bed, letting out a short gasp. As her vision focused she looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. Fierce grunts and shattering furniture. Muffled curses and loud kicks.
"You'll never mock me again, Ser!" The noise came from Brienne's room.
"I'm ain't mocking, woman! I'm tryin' ta marry ya! Aaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh!"
"Oh, no!" the young lady Stark cried as she fell back onto her pillows. "Not again!"
Thank you for reading this chapter. How was it? Let me know what you think.
XoXo
Roheline
