A/N Thanks for the continued support! This chapter mainly takes place in King's Landing with a brief scene with Bronn and Co enroute to the Wall. Next chap we will catch up with our characters in Essos and Winterfell. Enjoy:)

Chapter 8

King's Landing

Rousing from a deep, yet restless sleep, Jon instinctively reaches for the spot next to him where Daenerys usually lay but feels nothing but a handful of cold empty sheets. Then he remembers. He sighs tiredly and runs a hand through his black curls. He misses her. He lays in bed for a moment thinking of her flying beyond the countryside and sends a prayer to the Gods that no harm comes to her and that she returns to him soon.

…..

The grand Dining Hall is filled with the gentle clink of silverware and lighthearted chatter as servants bustle about the table, serving breakfast to the royal family. Croissants with marmalade, bacon, honey ham, english muffins, and eggs from prize hens. All Jon's favorites, yet he found himself not having much of an appetite. Servants offered to feel his plate and he kept shaking his head and waving them away.

His mind was full of dark thoughts, images of a burning countryside. He knows he shouldn't brood, and shouldn't have these thoughts. But it appears he is unable to shake the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, despite Lord Tyrion's reassurances.

The young Targaryens eat contentedly and chatter amongst themselves, none of them the wiser to what is going on. Little Caius plays with his porridge as Katarina scolds him and tells him to use a spoon and behave like a prince, not a peasant. Eddard discusses the patrols and training of his men with Jon, and Jon listens but his mind is elsewhere. He interjects a word or two from time to time, but he is mainly distracted.

The Imp himself eyes his King knowingly as he nibbles at his blackened bacon, but says nothing. He can tell that Jon is not in a talking mood. Instead he turns to Lady Mira, red headed like her mother and just as striking. "Did you sleep well, my Lady?" he asks her, and he notices how she startles. He can't tell if her reaction is from being addressed so directly from a high lord, or if his rather ghastly appearance had done it. His scar from the battle of the Blackwater had mostly faded with time, but was still not the prettiest sight for a young lady. But Mira smiles most kindly at Tyrion anyway.

"I did, my Lord," she says. "Thank you for asking."

"Oh please call me Tyrion," he tells her with a flourish of his hand. "Tell me, who fares your mother?"

"She is well."

"Will she be attending the festivities?" Tyrion asks hopefully. He has an urge to see the beautiful wolf again.

"I believe her duties as Warden of the North will keep her away from the capitol for the time being," Jon answers before Mira can say anything. He thinks of the Freys, and he knows his sister still can't manage to bring herself to set foot in King's Landing after all she went through to break free of its gates so many years ago.

"Well that is quite unfortunate," Tyrion says with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

The gold crested doors open and Alexander trudges in, his silver curls tousled from sleep and his face screwed up against the golden light streaming into the room from the large windows. Tyrion notices the state of the younger prince and hides his amusement by taking a sip of ale. It's obvious the lad has had a late night and is feeling the repercussions. Jon notices too, and he frowns with disapproval as Alexander takes his seat next to Eddard and the servants begin to dishing food onto his plate.

"Nice of you to join us," Jon says sardonically.

"Good morning, Father," Alexander says, picking up his fork. "You'll have to pardon me. I was having a...very good dream that was difficult to wake from." He glances at Tyrion with a half smirk and Tyrion turns his head, pretending to look out the window but Alexander knows he is fighting hard to not laugh.

Alexander's eyes sweep across the table and he notices that someone is missing. "Where's Mother?"

Jon stares at him sternly, and Alexander flinches beneath his father's gaze. "She's not here. She is away on business of the Crown. And you would know this if you were where you're supposed to be."

Eddard glances at his brother, who dips his head ashamedly and reaches for his goblet. Jon lets his glare linger on his son for a moment longer, before turning to Tyrion. "I'm glad you find this all entertaining, Lord Tyrion. Perhaps I should find someone else to take charge of your...affairs?"

Tyrion clears his throat and dips his head respectfully to Jon. "That will not be necessary, my King."

"No?" Jon twirls his butter knife in his fingers as he regards the Queen's Hand. "Then I suggest you keep better record of your patrons."

"Yes, your Grace." Tyrion shoots a pointed glare at Alexander, who keeps his eyes on his plate.

"Now, Master of Coin. How fares our finances?"

"With the upcoming tourneys and royal wedding to follow, it is all appearing to be quite costly, your Grace," says Tyrion, offering a brief smile to the servant that refills his ale. "However, our vaults are full and we should have enough leftover to pay our debts to the Iron bank."

Jon nods approvingly. "Good."

"And speaking of royal weddings," Tyrion adds, turning to Eddard. "My sources tell me that the beautiful Lady Ophelia will be arriving this afternoon."

Eddard tries to look pleased, but really his insides are fluttering with nerves at the mention of his bride to be. He had been so busy with his duties that he had nearly forgotten the arranged marriage. Jon places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Well, that is good news. Lord Tyrion, see to it that the lady gets a proper greeting at the city gates. And I trust you'll take care of the preparations for the feast?"

Tyrion nods. "Of course, your Grace. Leave it to me."

Jon returns the gesture and gives Eddard's shoulder a comforting squeeze, before getting up from the table. "I trust that you all will behave yourselves?" he addresses this to his younger children, but Alexander knows he means him as well for he did not miss his pointed glance.

The princes and princess all mumble their assent and Jon seems pleased. He excuses himself from their presence, needing to go and make his own preparations for Lady Ophelia's arrival.

As he turns to the doors. He hears Kaiden say, "I saw Mother leaving the castle on Drogon's back! One day, I'll have a dragon of my own and ride him into battle!"

Jon pauses for the briefest of moments with his hand pressed to the door, his son's words sweeping through his mind. He doesn't quite know how he feels about them. There is such ambition in the blood of Targaryens, and their mother's fire definitely burns within their children. He shakes away the ill feelings and exits the Dining Hall.

He finds Daario Naharis standing guard outside the doors, tossing a coin into the air. The dark haired essosi grins at Jon and Jon barely spares him a glance as he walks right past him. He is not in the mood. The sound of his footsteps lets him know that Daario is following him, and he starts to whistle some foreign tune. Jon sighs with irritation. Must his guard be this arrogant cretin?

As he walks with Daario behind him still whistling, Jon's irritation rises and threatens to boil over until finally he halts and turns on him, his eyes flashing. "Will you stop whistling?"

Daario seems amused, and his whistle dies on his lips as he gives him a shit eating grin. "As you command. Your Grace," he adds after a long hesitation, and the words ring with bitterness.

Jon glares at him a moment longer, then turns and continues walking toward the throne room. Daario falls into step beside him, his hands behind his back.

"So Lady Ophelia arrives today at long last?" he muses. "Ah, I knew her father well. Served as his sword and shield."

"Did you?" Jon couldn't sound less interested.

"Aye. The great city of Volantis. Strange city, it is. Didn't spend a great deal of time there, but it was enough to know that the women there are...exquisite. I don't believe your son will be disappointed with his bride."

Jon says nothing but can tell that for whatever reason, Daario is making small talk with him. He acknowledges his words with a brief nod of his head. Daario keeps casting sidelong glances at him and Jon finally sighs in frustration and turns to him.

"Is there something else you wish to say, Ser?"

"Actually, there is." Daario turns a bit more serious now as he squarely faces Jon. "I wish to give you a bit of advice."

"Oh, do you?"

"Aye. You may have the Queen's heart but you did not know her as I did in Essos. She was fearless, ruthless. And strong."

Jon steps closer to Daario, his blood starting to boil. "I don't need you to tell me who she is."

"But you do. You see, for as much as you try to tame her, you will only push her further away. Any man who I've known to attempt has suffered at her wrath. She is a dragon, a true dragon. And you should treat her as such."

The two men glare at each other, an open challenge hanging between them. Jon knows that Daario's affections for his wife are no secret, and he knows they have a history. He also knows that Daenerys has love only for him, but that does not stop the anger that burns in his chest as Daario Naharis glowers at him.

"I know who she is," he repeats with ice in his tone. "I've always known. But you're forgetting something."

"And what's that?"

Jon steps closer so that they are nose to nose. "I too have dragon's blood in my veins," he utters in a deadly whisper. "You do well to remember that, Daario Naharis."

He feels a wave of satisfaction as the dark haired man's eyes narrow, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He knows he has gotten under his skin. Good.

…..

The North

The further they progress North toward the Wall, the colder the air gets. Rodrick shivers on the back of his black mare. He still wondered how on earth he had let Bronn talk him into this. The dark haired older man rode a few paces ahead of him, singing a song under his breath. Rodrick thought it sounded like The Bear and the Maiden Fair. Ten of the former sellsword's men rode along beside them, all silent.

Rodrick trained his eyes as far as they could see, and in the distance he could just make out the peak of a large snow covered mountain which he knew lie in wait beyond the Wall. He doubted there was anything of interest there besides the old castle and the wall of ice. But he had to admit curiosity had stirred within him since he was a young lad hearing stories of the men of the Night's Watch, pledged to guard the wall and people south of it from the threats beyond it.

He knew that wildlings still lived in scattered tribes, since Jon had allowed them to settle in their old homes after the great war. He wondered if they would come across any and how they would react to travelers. Would they be friendly? Defensive?

"Now there's a face deep in thought," Bronn's voice startles Rodrick. He notices that he had fallen into an equal trot beside him. "Not having second thoughts, are you? You could still turn back to Winterfell."

"And then you'd starve without someone who knows how to properly use a bow," Rodrick retorts.

"Fair point."

"Do you think we'll run into any wildlings?"

"It's possible."

"Friends or foes?"

"Guess it depends on their mood and the time of day." Bronn looks at Rodrick's serious face and chuckles softly. "I've met them, fought with them. Nasty tempers, they have. Especially this red headed one who called himself Tormund Giantsbane. Look at him funny, and he'd have your innards around his neck before you could whip out your cock for a piss."

"Is he…?"

"Dead? Aye. But he took a lot of those dead fuckers with him first."

Rodrick couldn't even imagine what things had been like back then. It was difficult to fathom.

"But they're loyal to good King Jon," Bronn continues. "He gave them their land back. And they prefer to keep to themselves. They're very...clan-ish. Can't say they won't give us any trouble for trespassing into their territory, but they won't kill us. They respect him too much for that."

"We can hope for that, you mean," Rodrick says doubtfully. "According to you, they don't seem to differentiate between friends and enemies too well."

"Aye. And they can smell your fear too." Bronn's eyes gleam with amusement. "So as long as you don't provoke them, then we just might make it back in one piece."

Rodrick is silent as they ride on. He can feel Bronn's eyes on him.

"Scared yet, lad?"

"No." Rodrick's jaw is set.

Bronn nods and faces forward. "Good. Because I have a feeling there's more than just wildlings out there. And that's what I would be worrying about."

"The white walkers have all gone. Unless you speak of ghosts. And don't you start up about that again, either."

"Not talking about white walkers, and not talking about ghosts." Bronn looks ominously at the mountain, half concealed in thick white clouds. "The North is a vast place, and much of it remains unexplored. Anyone who dared to venture far into its depths never returned, according to records."

Rodrick glances at him. Is he trying to scare him or is he being serious? It's hard to tell.

"If that's true, then you're leading us to a suicide mission," he says darkly. Now he was really regretting coming along. The way back to Winterfell wasn't far...but no. Rodrick was no coward. And he couldn't deny the curiosity that pricked at him.

"Maybe," says Bronn with a shrug. "Maybe not. Imagine the rewards though, of discovering something new for the history books. Being the first men to venture to the Lands of Always Winter and live to tell the tale."

"The Lands of Always Winter?" Rodrick is incredulous. "Are you mad?The climate isn't very accommodating. We'd die before we got very far! And we aren't properly clad for such temperature extremes!"

Bronn just smiles knowingly. "We have what we need, my Lord. You're just going to have to trust me."

Rodrick wants to question him more but Bronn starts singing his stupid song again, obviously closing the conversation to further discussion.

Rodrick sighed. This whole idea was insane. It was suicide. But Bronn seemed convinced they would survive. He has no choice but to trust him.

…

King's Landing

Horns blared and the people of the capitol clapped and cheered, women tossing flowers as the white carriage made its way through the crowd toward the gates to the city.

Jon stood at the foot of the steps, wearing his kingly golden shawl and crown. Daenerys still had not returned from her expedition, and it felt strange to stand without her at his side. But his people expressed their love for him and roses of all colors were thrown at his feet. People waved to him from windows and shouted, "My King!" He would never get used to such attention.

His eldest sons stood on either side of him, dressed in their royal garb. Prince Eddard held his head high and his shoulders drawn back, but Jon could tell he was nervous. He inconspicuously nudged his shoulder to get him to meet his warm, encouraging brown gaze. Eddard's eyes which were so much like his own, blinked gratefully at him, appreciating the silent support, no words needed. Jon remembered the first time he had gone before Queen Daenerys, not knowing what to expect or what he was getting himself into. He had expected everything except what he saw when those doors opened and he walked into the dark halls of Dragonstone and laid eyes on the Silver Haired beauty sitting on the throne. How often his thoughts went to her.

On the far right side stood the rest of the royal company, including Ser Davos, Lords Varys and Tyrion, Melisandre, and Maester Tarly. On the left side stood the princes and princess, with Lady Mira among them. The young Stark looked absolutely in awe of everything, and was practically quivering with anticipation as the white carriage drew closer.

Mira leaned toward Katarina to whisper, "Is Lady Ophelia really the most beautiful woman across the Narrow Sea?"

"I guess we're about to find out," says Katarina as she claps along with the others, forcing a smile. These matters were always dull to her. And her mind was on other things, like a murderous dragon God prophesied to come and swallow the world whole. She needed to confront Sam about her findings, and convince him to let her help with his research.

Mira's eyes are drawn forward again when the carriage stops a few feet from where Jon and his sons stand. She stands on her tiptoes to see over the heads of the many people gathered in the street as a man wearing red satin robes moves to open the carriage door. And out steps a woman who is indeed breathtaking.

Her skin seemed to appear almost golden. Her raven black hair was long and styled in such a way that could only be native to highborn women of Essos. She was dressed in white, with golden bangles decorating her wrists and catching the sun's rays. Mira stared. So did everyone gathered.

The man in red took the woman's hand and turned to face Jon, and together he and Lady Ophelia bowed and curtsied respectively.

Melisandre steps forward, the red ruby at her neck glinting. "You stand before King Aegon Targaryen the II, King of the Andals and the First Men, the White Wolf, and the Prince that was Promised. Whom do you present?"

"I present to you Lady Ophelia of the Red Sea and Volantis, the city of Fire."

Melisandre smiles and takes Ophelia's hands in her own and kisses them. "My Lady, it is an honor to meet someone of my homeland. You are very welcome here."

"And you are the great Melisandre, a humble servant of R'hllos," Ophelia says in High Valyrian. "The honor is mine."

Melisandre nods and steps aside, her head down as Jon walks closer to Lady Ophelia with a warm smile.

Jon takes Ophelia's hand and kisses it. "My Lady, welcome to my city. I do hope your travels were well?"

"The weather was good and the sea was kind, your Grace," Lady Ophelia says in the common tongue, though with a strong accent. "This is a beautiful country."

"Yes it is."

Lady Ophelia's eyes notice the absence of the Dragon Queen but she does not raise the question, and Jon is glad. He gestures for his children, and Mira, to step forward.

Mira almost trips over her dress as she does, and Katarina smiles at her, violet eyes dancing with amusement.

"Princess Katarina, Princes Kaiden and Caius. And my niece, Lady Mira," Jon introduces them in turn and they all curtsy or dip their heads. Ophelia smiles at all of them, and it is dazzling.

Alexander steps forward and Jon introduces him.

"My Lady," Alexander dips his head and kisses Ophelia's hand. She smiles at him but her eyes travel over his shoulder and land on Eddard, who is staring at her. Their eyes lock, and Eddard almost forgets to move as his father introduces him.

"And your betrothed, Prince Eddard Targaryen."

Eddard reminds his feet to function as he walks to her, hoping with as much confidence as he can muster, despite the beating of his heart like a mockingbird.

Lady Ophelia held her hand out expectantly but Eddard instead placed his hands gently on her face and kissed both her cheeks, a very intimate greeting. Lady Ophelia looks surprised but pleased as she smiles shyly at the prince when he looks at her.

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Ophelia," he says in his most charming voice, though to him it sounds shaky. No one seems to notice though. He can feel his father watching him with pride.

"The pleasure is all mine, my prince," says Ophelia warmly.

Mira watches the exchange and thinks it is very sweet. Everyone has eyes on the beautiful woman from Volantis, but Mira can feel eyes on her. She tears away her gaze and meets the blue eyes of a dark haired young man standing across from her, wearing the royal armor of the Crown. A wisp of dark hair hangs just below his eye and his mouth looks like it has probably been kissed by many. Why is he looking at her like that? Her, a mere girl from the North?

He looks away and the spell breaks, and Mira realizes she'd been holding her breath.

"Are you alright?" Katarina asks her.

Mira's cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Yes, I'm fine. Did I miss anything?"

Katarina looks at her oddly and shakes her head. "Everyone is going back into the castle. You sure you're alright. Your face is the color of Drogon's scales."

Mira's eyes widen as the crowd begins to disperse. "I've never seen a dragon before."

Katarina smiles. "You will."

…..

"That was wonderful!" Mira later gushes as she collapses on her bed, spreading her arms along the soft silk bedding. "All the people, the music. The excitement!"

"It gets old after awhile," Katarina says, lying down next to Mira and propping her head in her hand.

Mira stares at her incredulously. "Don't you like being a princess?"

"I guess." Katarina shrugs, picking at the fabric.

Mira shakes her head at her and looks to the ceiling, imagining herself in Katarina's position. A princess with loyal servants and a promise to marry a prince when the time came. Then her mind briefly goes to the young man in armor who had been looking at her in the crowd,

He was no prince, but he was handsome all the same. And probably brave. He had to be. She wondered how many battles he's seen. How much blood his sword had tasted. A shudder ran down her spine.

"You'll be Queen someday," Mira says to Katarina, turning her head to look at her cousin.

"I'm the third born," she says doubtfully. "My brothers will rule long before I ever do, and besides...I really have no desire to be Queen."

"What?" Mira gasps in exasperation.

"Mention this to no one," says Katarina. "But what I really want to do-"

Mira never found out. There was a sharp knock at her door and the girls sat up. Mira called out, "Come in!"

They are both surprised to see Jon enter the room. "Ladies," he nods to them. He looks at Mira. "I have an important task for you."

"Oh?"

"You will serve as Lady Ophelia's handmaiden. You will attend to her needs, whatever she asks of you."

Both girls look at each other in shock. Mira definitely hadn't been expecting this when she came to King's Landing.

"Mira came here as our guest, not a servant!" Katarina is the one to protest.

"A handmaiden to a noble lady is of high honor."

"Mira is a noble lady! And she's family!"

"It is Sansa's wish that you learn responsibility," Jon says firmly. "And humility, and discipline. And I can think of no better way, can you?"

Katarina looks like she wants to protest again but Mira stops her. "No, it's alright. It would be my honor to serve Lady Ophelia. Perhaps I could learn a great deal from her." If she was to marry a high lord or prince someday, it couldn't hurt to learn from the source. And it was her mother's wish, and she did not intend to disappoint.

Jon smiles at his niece, knowing that she would see it that way. "Perhaps. Very well, then. Your Lady waits in her chambers. Go and properly introduce yourself. And Mira, this isn't a punishment. I want you to know that."

"I know."

…

Jon is kept busy for the remainder of the afternoon in Davos and Gendry's company. Gendry had made a smooth recovery after a couple days resting in the infirmary and now spent some time catching up with his two old drank and talked and told their stories of what they'd been up to. The subject of the Freys got brought up and Jon reassured them that it was taken care of. They discussed the Hill tribes, and Jon once again thought of Daenerys. She should be back by now. Unless something had gone wrong?

No. He would not let his mind go there. He convinced himself that he needed to stop worrying about her. She was strong and had Drogon, and Jon knew he wouldn't let anything happen to his mother. He just hoped she hadn't been wreaking too much havoc. As if his thoughts had summoned them, he heard a loud screech in the distance.

Jon quickly got up and went to the window in time to see Drogon returning to the city, flying toward the Dragonpit, his cries ringing through the air.

"No matter how many times you see that," Davos breathed from beside him at the window. "You never get used to it."

…

Daenerys sees him from her place on her dragon's back. She sees him standing in the Dragon Pit, waiting for her. Her heart leaps in her chest and she can't dismount Drogon fast enough. Before she can move he is there, reaching for her.

She smiles and puts her hands in his and allows him to help her down and before she knows it she is in that favorite place she had missed so much. The arms of the man she loves.