Truth in Your Heart
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Author's note: This is a continuation of the previous temporary chapter.
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Daenerys
She was lost in thought all through the ritual of braiding her hair, performed by Missandei. She did not even hear the knock on the door and only realised when Missandei told her that everyone is summoned to the Great Hall.
She thought that she knew what it meant. Yesterday's feast was not the place for serious talks, today is the day.
When she entered the hall everyone stood up immediately, quite a contrast from yesterday. She looked at Jon but he was not looking at her. It never happened before, she felt a dull thud in her chest. Something happened. Something is wrong. He left her smiling this morning, now his face looked like thunder.
When she sat down, together with the all gathered there, only Jon was left standing. He is the king. She can feel and understand easily why they chose him. He inspires, he commands respect. She is so proud when she looks at him, her heart is filled with love and admiration. If she could, she would kiss him hard now.
"We have received grave news, the worst news possible. The Wall, where Eastwatch once was, has fallen. The Army of the Dead is marching on the North," says Jon in a deep, sombre voice.
Her own gasp was drowned by the uproar that rose in the hall. Some of the men stood up. She looks at Jon but his gaze is focused on the hall. It has started. Even sooner than they expected. She shivers with the anticipation of impending doom.
He raises his hand to silence the room. He tells them they need to prepare and proposes plans. He tells them about the dragonglass they brought from Dragonstone.
A baldish man stands up and quite rudely questions her presence here. "Then are we still under the orders of the King in the North or a foreign invader?" he asks, looking at her with unconcealed hatred in his eyes. She gives him a cold stare but her face remains impassive.
"I will not stand for any disrespect to Queen Daenerys, Lord Glover," says Jon firmly. "There is neither need nor time for that. I suggest you should get your priorities right."
She is grateful for Jon's intervention but she will not stay silent.
"I imagine, Lord…"
"Glover," barks the bald man.
"I must try harder to remember the name," she says steely, looking hard at him. "It'll come useful later."
"I imagine, Lord Glover," she continues after a pause, "that you allude to the pledge given to me by the King in the North. Rest assured, my Lord, that the issue will be resolved after the war against the Night King is won. Meanwhile, let me remind you that I have brought my armies and my dragons to save the North. Surely the question of North's safety should be close to your heart. Or are you planning to abandon it? No? Unlike you, Lord… Glover, I have seen the Army of the Dead beyond the Wall and I realise what is the actual threat to the North. Therefore I would advise you to focus on the matters at hand."
"We chose Jon Snow, the King in the North, to rule over us…" Lord Glover tries again.
"And you've chosen wisely," she interrupts. "He did it to protect you, because he cares deeply for his people. Now, are you going to listen to my advice, Lord… Glover or…?"
Glover positively glowers at her but after sneaking a glance at Jon, his face changes. "Yes… Your Grace," he says in the end and sits down.
There is not much said after that. As people in the hall begin to disperse she sees that Jon is about to leave too. "Your Grace," she says in her normal voice but she knows she has to control herself as she feels that her voice may break any moment now. He stops and slowly turns towards her. Others are leaving, but Lady Sansa, Ser Davos, Tyrion and Ser Jorah linger. She is silent, she hopes they will understand that she wants to be alone with him. They finally do, only Tyrion gives them a last, anxious look, hesitates for a moment but eventually joins the others.
He still does not look at her. His eyes are looking anywhere else but at her. She takes a deep breath. "Is something wrong?" she asks gently when they are alone. He remains silent for a long time. She waits anxiously. "Aye, there's plenty wrong," he blurts out suddenly. Then he checks himself. "Your Grace," he continues a bit calmer, even if still avoiding her gaze. "Unless there is something of importance to tell me, I'd rather go to make preparations. We have no time to lose," he pauses. "I have no time to waste." She feels a thud in her chest again. His voice is so cold. Even colder than on the day they met. She tries to regain her composure.
"Jon…" she tries.
"It's not even my name," he interrupts her harshly and finally looks into her eyes. His eyes are devoid of emotions and there is no trace of tenderness in them. He nods and walks out of the hall briskly.
She looks after him shocked and broken inside, not understanding what has just happened.
Jon
His mind was swirling. He was not sure if he heard right, if he understood Sam's story correctly. He feels like he is drowning in the cold lake again, only now he does not see the way out. He knows both Sam and Bran are looking at him.
His entire life was based on a lie. People he trusted the most lied to him. Father…
"Jon?" says Sam gently, interrupting Jon's train of thought.
Jon looks at him but he does not really see him, there is so much anger within him, that he does not trust himself to speak. He turns quickly and is nearly by the door when Bran voice stops him in the spot. "The Wall has fallen down. The dead are marching," says Bran in his toneless voice.
Jon swiftly turns to face Bran. "What?" he asks angrily.
"The Night King destroyed the Wall. Eastwatch is gone. The dead are coming," continues Bran.
"How do you know tha…" Jon does not finish, he assumes that Bran saw it while he was warging. "Is it true?" he asks despite himself. He wants to disbelieve it, but deep down he knows this is a vain hope.
"Yes," replies Bran calmly.
"How far they've got?" asks Jon in a sullen voice.
"They're on the Gift."
Jon closes his eyes in desperation. This is where he allowed the rescued Freefolk to settle. Mostly women, children and old people. They have no chance. They will become soldiers of the Night King.
There is no time to be lost, plans need to be made. His personal problems must wait. "Sam, find Ser Davos and tell him to gather everyone in the Great Hall. Now. No excuses from anyone."
Sam nods quickly and leaves the room. Jon looks at Bran who just stares at the fire in the fireplace. "How long did you know about me?" he asks Bran.
Bran turns his head towards him, "Some of it I saw beyond the Wall," replies Bran. Jon nods, his jaw is clenching. "I thought you needed to know," continues Bran. "It doesn't change a thing."
"How…" Jon does not even know how to finish the sentence.
"You're still our brother," finishes Bran.
He should have reacted to that, but his head is buzzing and he stares stubbornly at the floor. And there are so many emotions going through his body that he does not know what he would say if he decided to speak now.
"There's one more thing," Bran breaks the silence. Jon closes his eyes, he is not sure if he can take any more of it. "The Night King is riding a dragon," says Bran. Only then Jon looks at Bran. The realisation of what happened to Viserion takes his breath away and almost makes him nauseous. It is his own fault. He should not go beyond the Wall. He should not ask Daenerys to come. This is a disaster. How are they going to defend themselves against the undead dragon?
Once again he turns towards the door and finally leaves the room.
When he waits patiently for everyone to take their places, he thinks that he should consult with his advisors first but that would mean to talk directly to Daenerys too. He is not ready for that. There are so many conflicting thoughts in his head. He needs more time. And there is no time. He needs to avoid her until he is ready. He does not know what 'being ready' would actually involve but he needs some more time to gather his thoughts. She enters the hall but he is determined to avoid looking at her. Not now.
As he begins to share the news, he wonders if he should part with the other information he got this morning. He clearly remembers how they emphasised him being a Stark. Well, he is but he is half Targaryen and he doubts they would take it well. He struggles. He needs them to focus on the war. Would it not be an unnecessary distraction to tell them about his Targaryen heritage? He finally decides against it. At least for now. He wants their attention focused on the most important matter: the survival.
"Lord Umber," he says loudly. A frightened boy stands up. Jon's heart goes to him but there is so little he can do. "Last Hearth is in an immediate danger. As the Army of the Dead is on the Gift already. You, as other lords, should decide if you want your people come to Winterfell where we will face the enemy together. Or you try to defend your castle and hope they will pass you by. In any case, everyone must arm themselves with dragonglass weapons. We have brought plenty of dragonglass from Dragonstone. It should be enough for everybody. There is also dragonglass that should be forged into weapons. We did not have time to use it all."
The murmur goes through the hall as the houses confer as to what actions should be taken. Then lord Glover stands up and in a convoluted and impolite way asks about his pledge to Daenerys. Well, he knew that was coming. Sooner or later. He wanted to handle it in his own time, he wanted them to know her better, to see that she deserved devotion, respect and trust. She… 'No, I can't think about her now' he tells himself. The pent anger, boiling down inside him since his conversation with Sam and Bran, is slowly coming to the surface, even if he promised himself to try to suppress it. This is madness. What does it matter who rules where if they all can die any moment? He tries to put lord Glover in his place, he does not want the discussion about kingship now. There are more important things to worry about. Despite his intervention, she speaks to Glover. He tries very hard not to look at her now. But he can hear that she is the queen he knows, strong, resilient and not afraid. She still calls him a king. His heart almost breaks at this. She is loyal to him and even boosts his position in the eyes of the Northerners. In any other circumstances he would be so proud of her. He is angry though. Her being so perfect in his eyes does not help him now. Instead he focused his anger at Glover. He looks at him with a murderous intent. Glover finally meets his eye and finally shuts up.
Decision time. Some lords prefer to go home, Jon thinks it is a mistake. He needs numbers to fight the White Walkers here but he knows that they want to protect their families in their own homes. Fortunately most of the houses decide to stay and get their people to Winterfell. Sansa reminds them to take the provisions from their castles as Winterfell cannot possibly feed them all indefinitely.
Umbers decide to go home. Jon sighs but does not try to convince them. Instead he asks Lord Umber to send the raven home and order to let the Freefolk from the Gift into the castle if they manage to run away from the Army of the Dead.
"That is all for now, my lords and ladies," he says loudly and people start to leave the hall. He knows he needs to organise defence in detail but he needs a moment alone. His head is buzzing.
She stops him. He dreaded it. She calls him 'Your Grace' when the others are present but drops it when they are alone. Her voice is gentle and tender, she is worried.
He tries to avoid her eyes at all costs. He is full of anger and frustration, he is afraid to let her see it. This is torture. He needs to end it quickly. He simply cannot talk to her now. Or even be close to her.
Daenerys
She is sitting with Tyrion, Varys, Jorah, Missandei and Grey Worm. She should be focused. They discuss the recent events, preparations and all the important issues. She listens but hardly takes part in the conversation. She should be worried about the Dothraki and the Unsullied freezing to death. She should be worried about the provisions for her armies and the horses. She should be worried that there is no word from the Lannister army. She should be worried about a lot of things. But she is numb inside.
She knows that something else happened, apart from the Wall falling. A wall has risen between her and Jon. Her heart aches. She thinks that she knows him well. But does she? The man she knows would act differently. The man she loves would not be cold towards her. The man that is her life would not run away from her.
It appears Tyrion was right. Love distracts, makes you forget your priorities, makes you act irrationally. She tries to be the queen she is. She tries to revert to her former self. So far unsuccessfully. She notices that every one of them looks at her from time to time quizzically.
She really tries to join the conversation but her mind is blank. She just agrees or disagrees when anyone asks her opinion on a given subject.
The conversation is slowly dying out. "Well," she ventures, "it appears that everyone knows what to do." It is met with some consternation from her companions. Hmm, it seems she did not listen to the conversation as closely as she should. Fortunately, using the queen's prerogative no one points out to her that she made a blunder. They all rise and slowly begin to leave the room.
"Are you feeling unwell, Your Grace?" says Jorah with a genuine care in his voice.
"I'm perfectly fine," she smiles reassuringly. "Thank you for your concern, Ser Jorah. I think I need some fresh air."
Again Tyrion lingers at the door, looking at her intently. When there is only Tyrion, Missandei and her, he asks her in a quiet voice. "Is there something we should discuss, Your Grace?"
Once more she tries to reassure with a smile. "Nothing comes to mind at the moment."
He still looks at her as if he was trying to read her face. But finally he nods and leaves.
"Can I be of any assistance, Your Grace?" asks Missandei.
"No," she smiles at Missandei. "Thank you, my friend."
She is finally alone. She feels that there must be a logical explanation to all this. Maybe she just have to wait patiently. Patiently! She was patient for so long during her time in Essos that she hardly has any reserves of patience left.
She puts her fur coat on. It is the one she had when she travelled beyond the Wall. It brings all sorts of memories, mostly painful. It fits her mood at the moment. She leaves the room and all her four guards follow her. She goes out into one of the covered bridges overlooking one of the courtyards. Down there, there is a multitude of people busy with all sorts of activities. She looks at them deep in thought. How many of them will be able to survive the winter? Or the Night King?
She turns her head and sees Ser Jorah with Jon's friend. Sam, was it? "Your Grace, allow me to introduce Sam Tarly. This is the young man I was talking to you about who saved my life at the Citadel," says Ser Jorah.
'Tarly?' she thinks. That name rings a bell. As the recollection dawns on her, she smiles but deep down, under her regal poise, she feels uneasy. "I must thank you, Lord Tarly for saving my friend. I truly owe you for this service," she says in her composed voice.
"Oh, I'm not a lord, Your Grace," Tarly replies, smiling shyly. "I'm just Sam."
She smiles genuinely now. She should have known. He is Jon's friend after all. She braces herself. It will not be a pleasant conversation.
"Ser Jorah, I'd like to have a few private moments with Sam," she says. Ser Jorah and Sam both look surprised, but Jorah nods and walks away.
"Sam, about your family…" she starts but does not know where to go with it. "Ah, that," says Sam and looks relieved. She is confused. "Do you know what happened to them?" she asks.
"Happened?" asks Sam, clearly anxious. "Has anything happened to mother or Talla?"
"No, I didn't mean them. They're fine, I should think." She pauses. "Why? What did you think I was going to say?"
Sam looks embarrassed now. "Oh, erm… nothing. I just…" He blushes deeply. "I wasn't thinking of anything, Your Grace."
She watches him closely. There was something else, she is sure of it but she does not press him. "It's about your father and your brother," she says quietly.
"Oh?"
"Yes. There is no easy way to say it…they died in battle," she says finally, looking straight into Sam's eyes.
"Oh!" Sam looks surprised. As the news sink in, his face loses its happy countenance and he looks very serious. "Both of them?" he asks. She nods, she feels that she needs to say more.
"They died for their honour," she says gently. He nods eagerly. "That was to be expected," he says. "Our words are 'First in Battle', so I can only imagine…"
She takes a deep breath. "They were fighting for the Lannisters."
"The Lannisters?" asks Sam incredulously. "But we are pledged to… I don't understand."
"They chose to side with Cersei. They refused to join me. I decided to execute them," she looks very intently at Sam. "I want you to know that they died bravely," she finishes quietly.
He looks into her eyes for a long time. "Thank you for telling me, Your Grace…" he says in a serious voice. "War makes us do horrible things."
She nods slowly and looks again at Sam. They stand in silence for some moments, just looking at each other.
"Have you seen Jon Snow, Your Grace?" asks Sam suddenly, his voice back to his normal cheerfulness. She is taken aback for a moment. "No," she replies, trying to hide her confusion.
"Ah, well, I've been looking for him everywhere," says Sam. "If you don't mind, Your Grace, I will continue my search."
She nods quickly.
Jon
It is the only peaceful place he could find. The crypts were always a refuge when he wanted to be alone. He stared for a long time at the figure of Ned Stark. A man he thought of throughout all his life as his father. Someone who was his role model. Someone who meant everything to him. Someone whom he wanted to emulate. Someone who lied to him.
All he endured for being a bastard son of a mighty lord was undeserved, unnecessary, unfair. He knew exactly who he was as Jon Snow. And who is he now? Nothing makes sense anymore. All his actions revolved around the idea of proving his worth to the memory of Ned; showing he was just as much a son Ned would be proud of as Robb or Bran or Rickon. Now it has all been taken away from him. He looks towards Lyanna's statue. He has been to the Crypts so many times and he hardly noticed her statue. He tries to imagine her features but the time seemed to be unrelenting and her face is a mystery to him as it is almost obliterated. There should be some consolation in the fact that she was happy, she was in love and she wanted this child. And it is. All those stories he heard time and time again about her and Rhaegar were not true. He knows next to nothing about Rhaegar. He knows all about Targaryens but he hardly paid any attention to him.
He knows that deep down he still considers Ned as his true father. A father who taught him everything, a father who showed him love, a father who protected him. He understands why Ned did what he did but nevertheless he feels cheated. He does not know if knowing of him being a Targaryen would change anything, any of his life choices, but he resents the fact that he was not even given an option. He recalls the advice he has given himself to Theon, that he did not have to choose, he could be both. By the cruel twist of fate, he is standing before the same decision. Who is he? Is he a Jon Snow or is he Aegon Targaryen? There is nothing Targaryen about him. Or is there? This is getting ridiculous.
And Daenerys… How can he even tell her that he is her brother's son? That they are related. Well, it hardly matters to a true Targaryen, he supposes. And it should not matter to him. He is half Targaryen. And even in the Starks' family first cousins and uncles and nieces married but… 'Oh, I don't know what to think about it all' he shouts at himself in his thoughts.
And there is Daenerys herself. The thought of her, looking at him with plain hurt on her face when he basically told her that talking to her is a waste of his time, tortures him. He cannot believe he could be that cruel. And especially to her; she is his whole world, the undisputed love of his life and he hurt her. Why did he do that? He would gladly die for her and yet was ready to cause her pain. He closes his eyes, there is an actual ache in his chest when he recalls that scene. That was unforgivable. He hates himself for it. She must hate him now. No, she would not do that. She is better than that. He does not deserve her love. He behaved abominably. And just after her show of loyalty to him in her exchange with Glover.
His thoughts are interrupted, he hears footsteps coming towards him. He prays to the gods it is not Daenerys. It is not, it is Sam.
"Jon?" cries Sam. "Are you here? It's so dark and you know my eyes are not so good."
Jon steps out of the shadows and it startles Sam. "Oh, I'm glad I found you. I've been looking for you all over the place…"
"What do you want, Sam?" interrupts Jon in a deep voice.
"I was wondering… how you are. Many people are looking for you. There are so many decisions to be taken…" Sam pauses looking at his friend with a worry on his face. "Are you all right?"
"No, Sam, I'm not." He wanted to be alone but he is relieved to see Sam.
"He tried to protect you," says Sam. As always Sam goes straight to the heart of the matter.
"I know," he replies tiredly.
"I'm sure he would tell you eventually," offers Sam.
"I know," Jon tries to be patient.
"As I see it, you need to look for the good things in this situation," Sam gets into his lecture mode. "You're not a bastard. Your father and mother loved each other. You always wanted to be a Stark and you are, legitimately. You're also a Targaryen, also a legitimate one. And you're the heir to the Iron Throne. So, really, when you look at it, there's more to be happy about."
"Happy?" he asks incredulously. "Sam, I've been lied to all my life. I don't know who I am!"
"What do you mean?" asks Sam. "You're Jon. My friend, my chosen brother. You're Jon who people love and respect. What more do you want?"
Jon is silent. Maybe Sam is right, he is the same as he always was. No, it cannot be and is not that simple. He almost wishes he had a disposition like Sam's. Life might have been easier.
"Have you told the queen yet?" Sam asks quietly. 'Sam doesn't let me catch my breath,' Jon tells himself. He shakes his head and looks gloomily at the floor.
"Do you…erm… do you love her?" asks Sam. 'Gods,' thinks Jon, 'does everyone read him like a book?' His heart aches. He cannot speak. He just looks into Sam's eyes. "Yeah, well… and does she love you?" Sam continues in a slightly embarrassed tone. Jon slowly nods.
"Well… don't you think she deserves to know?" Sam is persistent. "It would be better coming from you…"
"I know!" he interrupts brusquely but adds in a gentler voice, "I know, Sam."
"When you love someone, you're supposed to trust them. So maybe you should trust her judgment," Sam continues unperturbed. "Just look at me and Gilly…" Sam notices the meaningful look from Jon. "Yes, well, anyway, you can't really love a person if you don't trust them. And this is not something I read in the books," Sam finishes confidently.
Despite himself he smiles at the recollection of this constant tease directed at Sam at Castle Black. Before he could answer he saw and heard someone approaching. "Your Grace," says Davos. "You're not easy to find, but my smuggler's past taught me a few tricks." Davos's smile dies down when he looks closely at the faces of Jon and Sam. "Is anything the matter?" he asks.
Jon looks at Sam and nods slightly. Sam understood and slowly repeats the story he told Jon himself only this morning. Jon breathes heavily throughout all this, his jaws are clenching again and he looks stubbornly at the floor.
"Ha!" Davos finally breaks the silence that had engulfed them when Sam finished the story. "That's an interesting state of affairs." They are silent for a long time again. Finally Davos speaks, "What does it matter?"
"What does it matter?" Jon raises his voice. Released anger and frustration sweep through his whole body. He is about to burst into rant but is stopped by the calm voice of Davos.
"What does it matter?" Davos repeats. "You still have to fight the White Walkers, you still have to protect your people. No matter what your name is, your people need you, they believe in you whatever fancy name you're going to take. The Northerners are a stubborn lot and they may not love you for being a Targaryen but I presume no one but few people know, we don't have to tell everybody. There will be plenty of time for that after the war. If there will be anyone able to speak left, that is."
"It's not right," says Jon stubbornly.
"Your Grace," says Davos in a calm but firm voice. "The dead are coming, that's more important." And after a pause, "But you have to tell her."
"I know / He knows" say Jon and Sam at the same time.
Daenerys
"Has anybody shown you around the castle yet, Your Grace?" Arya's voice startles her, and apparently her guards. No one heard her coming towards them. The guards even reacted protectively but she calmed them with a hand gesture. Arya has not even flinched at the display of hostility from the guards, she just looks at Daenerys with a half-smile.
"Nnno," she stammers as she tries to regain her composure. "Not yet" she adds with a slight smile.
They walk slowly and Arya is showing her all the many courtyards and other places in the castle, that bring some cherished memories. Daenerys watches her with interest. Her words recall to mind the images of simple and happy domesticity, yet her face betrays no emotions and her voice is steady.
"You must've had a happy childhood here," says Daenerys gently. She knows that despite her cold demeanour, there is this wistfulness about Arya.
"Yes," replies Arya simply. "For a while. We all did."
"Even Jon?" asks Daenerys and she quickly regrets saying it. Arya looks at her intently. "No, maybe it wasn't so nice for Jon." Then she adds after a pause, "But we loved him. Well, some of us did and still do."
She is nervous now, she needs to change the subject. Arya's intense look disconcerts Daenerys, Arya's eyes seem to bore right through her.
"And so do you," says Arya.
That is what she was afraid of. Daenerys forces herself to turn her gaze from Arya. "It's important to have such memories. You can always come back to them in the moment of despair. I don't have too much of good memories." She hopes to divert Arya's mind to other subjects. She starts to tell her about her journeys through Essos. She talks quickly and a lot, hoping to prevent Arya from returning to the subject of Jon. Arya listens in silence. But as soon as Daenerys runs out of ideas about what she should talk about now, Arya speaks in this calm voice of hers.
"I haven't travelled much in Essos. I've only been to Braavos."
Daenerys is relieved that her ploy worked. "Why did you go there?" she asks.
"To learn," replies Arya.
"Learn what?" she asks. Getting information from Arya is not an easy task. This is something she has in common with her brother.
"To learn how to be me," Arya again looks very intently at Daenerys.
'She is such a strange girl,' she thinks. But deep down she likes her, Arya intrigues her. She is tiny but strong and self-assured, that reminds her so much of herself. Daenerys feels instinctively that there is a thread of understanding between them.
"And here are the crypts," says Arya.
They are standing at the top of the stairs and Daenerys seems to hear raised voices. One of them sounds exactly like Jon's. "Maybe some other time," she says hesitatingly. Arya nods.
Of all the places Arya took her, she liked the best the Godswood and this glass garden where their tour has ended. She sits on a small bench surrounded by blue roses. Every other patch of the ground is full of all kinds of vegetables, but here in the corner by the hot springs, there is this oasis of sheer beauty. The roses are exquisite, deep blue in colour and smelling better and more intoxicating than any perfumes she has ever had. It is very warm here and she is relieved that she can take off her coat and gloves. Her guards seem happy too. They are sitting nearby on the ground but they are providing her with a bit of privacy.
After a while she has to open her bodice as well. She has not been that warm since Essos. No, actually since this morning when she was safely in Jon's arms. She sighs deeply. She needs to get a grip on herself. Whatever is happening between her and Jon, she is the queen responsible for her armies and they all need to be ready to face the Army of the Dead. She gives herself some moments more here but soon she will have to go back to the grim reality where her duties await her.
She turns her head as her guards suddenly got up, she follows their gaze and she sees Jon coming towards her. She tries to read his face but she is unsuccessful. Instead she turns away her head and looks at the roses. She is trying to compose herself. Whatever happens, she has her regal mask on, under which all the emotions will be hidden. In the corner of her eye she notices her guards relaxing and taking their places on the ground again.
He stops at the short distance from her. She knows he is looking at her and it takes all her strength not to turn her head towards him. She expected a long silence, so the sound of his voice startled her.
"Daenerys," says Jon softly. "I'm sorry. Please, forgive me." The tone of his voice sends shivers through her body. She can only hope her voice will not tremble.
"There's nothing to forgive," she replies and she is quite proud of herself. She managed to remain calm.
"No, there is," he says earnestly and steps closer to her. Her heart is beating faster.
He explains that he was angry because he received the news that was hard to bear. "What was it?" she asks gently. He drops his gaze and is silent for a moment. He wants her forgiveness first.
"There's nothing to forgive because I've forgiven you already," she says and finally turns her head towards him. She slowly raises her eyes to his. He takes a step closer to her again. She is drowning in his eyes that once again are filled with love. She barely notices his hand grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to him. And then she is lost in a kiss, tender, deep and desperate.
When they sit together on the bench again, he does not look at her but she is observing him very closely. As his story progresses her eyes are getting wider and wider. There are million thoughts in her head. 'I'm not the last Targaryen,' is one of them and her heart skips a beat rejoicing. Then the slow realisation dawns on her. He is the son of her brother and furthermore, his claim to the Iron Throne may be stronger than hers. She does not care about the former, Targaryens' history is full of similar cases or even worse. Jon may struggle with it though. But he just kissed her. Was it a farewell kiss? Her heart sinks. Does it mean…? What does it mean?
The latter issue of the claim to the throne is a bitter pill. Her whole life has been centred around the idea. All she has gone through was for this sole purpose ever since Viserys died. She searches her heart. Does it still matter so much? There might be no throne to claim either way if they do not destroy the Night King. And if they are together, would it really matter? If they are together… If.
He is silent; she knows that she should be the one to say something first. She looks at the face of a man she loves, looking for clues of what is going on in this head of his. Then it strikes her that she did not really think of him. He just found out that he had been lied to all his life. Her heart breaks at the thought how lost he may feel at the moment. His entire identity was based on a lie. But then, this lie probably saved his life so precious to her. If Robert knew, he would have killed him as he tried to kill her. The thought of not being alone in the world comes back. He is a Targaryen, she is not alone. Knowing him as much as she does now she is convinced that this may be the hardest part. He is proud of Starks' legacy, he is a Stark whatever his real name may be. And then there is the North. Their disdain for Targaryens is almost palpable. Would they accept him? As half Stark, half Targaryen.
Her heart goes to him. Her own confusion at the news is nothing in comparison to his. She longs to touch him but she is not sure how he will react. She is suddenly afraid. What if he rejects her?
This silence between them is excruciating. She takes a deep breath. "I understand," she whispers. He suddenly looks at her, his eyes are searching her face. No, it was the wrong thing to say. What should she say? What does she want to say?
"It doesn't change a thing for me," she says gently.
Jon
He was ready to face the armies by himself, he was ready to fight the White Walkers, he was ready to confront danger in general. Yet he was afraid to face her now. But he has to do it. No, he wants to do it. He is steeling himself as if before the battle.
He goes to her chambers first but there are no guards in front of her door so he presumes she is not there. He tries to find someone who he could ask about her whereabouts without raising suspicions or questions. He suddenly sees Arya. He greets her with a smile. She nods but her face is frozen with half smile, it is inscrutable. He makes a mental note that he needs to spend some time alone with Arya, he needs to get to know her again; she is not a smiling, scatter-brained girl he remembered. But then they all changed so much. "Have you seen Queen Daenerys?" he asks.
Arya looks at him for an uncomfortably long moment. "She's in a glass garden," she finally replies.
He starts to thank her but she interrupts him. "I'm happy for you," she says and walks away with her hands behind her back. He looks after her with his mouth open. Then he shakes his head and goes towards the glass garden.
He sees her from afar. She sits on the bench surrounded by the roses, but for him she is more beautiful than all the flowers in the world, the familiar loss of breath reminds him of a sheer miracle that she is. When he reaches her, she stands up but she does not look at him. He knows her too well by now. Despite her regal poise she is unhappy and as always it breaks his heart to see her unhappy.
He begs for her forgiveness. She is calm and distant. He knows he hurt her, he knows that she did not deserve it but he cannot turn back time.
Even if she says that there is nothing to forgive he knows it is not true. He tries to explain. "I've received some news that was and still is hard to get over," he pauses and sighs deeply. "And I'm not even talking about the Night King."
If he could, he would postpone the moment for ages. She is clearly concerned. "I will tell you all," he says, sighing loudly. "But first I want you to forgive me for my behaviour earlier."
Her response melts his heart and he is finally granted the possibility to look into her eyes. He is distracted though by a single drop of her sweat that starts its slow journey from her collarbone deeper down her half open bodice. He watches it in fascination. It takes his breath away and he comes closer to her, the urge to kiss her, despite it being a public place, is stronger than reason. He pulls her close and kisses her deeply.
When he finally and reluctantly breaks his kiss, he needs to take his fur cloak off and his gloves, not only because the glass garden is such a warm place.
He motions her back to the bench. Slowly, trying to find the right word or sometimes using the phrases Sam did in his story told twice already, Jon explains the nature of news he received. He avoids her gaze now. Even when he finishes his story.
There is a long silence. His own thoughts are just buzzing in his head. He does not know what she is thinking and he is afraid to look at her. He remembers what Sam and Davos said but it does not mean he feels that way. Not yet at least. And he is unsure what her reaction to his revelation might be. She always kept reminding him of her being the last Targaryen. Now she is not. It was important to her. Her claim to be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was based on this very fact. She may resent him for somewhat taking it away from her. As if he ever wanted that. He does not care about the Iron Throne. He never cared for any of this. He was always driven by the sense of duty. But she may see it differently. She may withdraw her forces from the North now. No, he does her disservice. She is not that person. She risked everything to save them. Ah, this silence is unbearable.
As if hearing his thoughts he hears her saying quietly that she understands. He looks at her sharply. What does it mean? He tries to find the answer in her face but he is unable to read it. She sort of clarifies that it does not change a thing. Why does everyone keep saying those things? It does matter, it changes things.
"How?" he asks almost angrily, although he tries to check himself. "I don't know who I am anymore."
She looks confused for a moment. "You are who you have always been," she says after a pause, her voice is tender and gentle. "It should not matter what name the world gives you," she continues. "What matters is the truth in your heart." She places her hand hesitatingly in his hand. She trembles. He instinctively squeezes her hand. He looks deeply into her eyes. Then he lets go of her hand and puts his arms around her, pulling her firmly towards him, relieved to notice that she embraces him tightly. He kisses her forehead with all the tenderness that is swelling up inside him. Whatever future brings, he found her and that is his reward.
There was just one more thing to say. He slowly pulled away from her but did not release her from his arms. He looked into her eyes.
"I have to tell you something else though," he begins slowly. He is dreading this moment more than telling her of his ancestry. She looks at him with such a love in her eyes that his heart breaks at the thought what he is about to say. And as if reading his thoughts, the gentle smile on her face slowly fades away.
"The Night King… has raised Viserion from the dead…and… he rides him now," he finally finishes.
The absolute horror and hurt that he sees in her face causes him an actual pain in his chest. Her beautiful eyes well up and then the tears begin streaming down her face. She tries to say something but no words come. He starts to plant delicate kisses all over her face, whispering, "I know, love, I know."
Daenerys
They decided not to share this newly found knowledge with anyone until he talks with his family. They deserve to know and their decision is to be final. No matter how she tries to chase away the thoughts from her head they keep coming back stubbornly. Again and again. She is almost angry at herself but her whole life has changed in recent months so much and even more in recent hours that she allows herself to feel confused.
Instead she tries to occupy her mind with her queenly duties. Once again she gathered her advisors to discuss the important issues of preparation for the impending war. This time she not only listens carefully to what is being said but takes an active role in the conversation. She is almost amused at the palpable relief on the face of Tyrion. He looks like he got his queen back. And she is back. No matter what happens they are still facing the Army of the Dead, they still need to gather provisions for her armies and they need to plan.
The only time she faced the slight discontent on the face of Tyrion and Ser Jorah when she decidedly stated that any strategic military plans had to be agreed and consulted with Jon. And she hoped that they could easily read it from her face that this was not a negotiable point.
When they were asked to join Jon's council she was more than aware of constant looks Tyrion kept giving her and Jon for that matter. She could not have been prouder of herself and Jon, she was almost maliciously satisfied that Tyrion underestimated the sense of duty ingrained in both her and Jon.
The supper is a gloomy affair. All of the gathered are unhappy with their respective thoughts and the conversations are conducted in subdued tones. She is tired, this day almost drained her emotionally. Thus once again she is the first to leave the hall.
However, typically even if she is tired, once in bed she cannot go to sleep. She thinks of the revelations of today, she worries about no word from the Lannister army and most of all her thoughts go to Viserion. She does not know how she will react if she sees him. It will break her heart.
She tries to chase the bad thoughts away but still she cannot sleep. It has not been long but Jon reawaken her natural urges with double force. She needs him like air. She thinks of his arms around her, his warm lips all over her body. Those thoughts relax her; with the one hand she reaches between her legs , while the other is circling her nipple. She expects he will not visit her tonight, so she tries to recompense for the loss of his touch.
The sudden knock on her door startles her and she tries to focus her eyes, the room is almost dark with just one candle lit.
The door opens and the unmistakable shape of her lover appears. He stops after closing the door. "You've started without me?" says Jon in a deep voice, coarse with desire.
Jon
He was glad that he asked Bran to tell Sansa and Arya when he was not there. He wanted to avoid awkward staring and gasps of disbelief.
Well, he did not manage to avoid stares when he finally entered the room where the three of them were gathered around the fireplace. Sansa was sitting opposite Bran but Arya was standing as if ready to pounce.
There is no need to prolong this awkward moment. "I gather Bran told you everything?" he asks.
It is met with silence, he is nervous he does not what it means. He looks carefully at the faces of all of them but he can read nothing. He does not know what to say next. "And what do you think?" he asks. He knows that it is a lame question but that was the best he could come up with at the moment.
Again he is met with the wall of silence. Finally Bran speaks up, "I've told you already, I thought you needed to know. You're still our brother."
"Thank you, Bran," he says gently.
"I agree," says Arya quickly. "You're still half Stark as you were before. Nothing is changed."
Before he can answer, Sansa's voice makes his head turn. "What do you mean nothing is changed?" she asks Arya accusingly. "He's not our father's son as everyone thinks. That was the reason he was chosen as the King in the North."
"And you're not happy about it," says Arya.
"Don't start again, Arya," says Sansa angrily. "I think I've proven my loyalty to the family enough."
Before Arya could answer, he thought he had to intervene. "There's no need to fight amongst ourselves about it," he tries to sound calm.
"Jon's right," says Arya. "There's nothing to discuss."
"I didn't say that exactly," he interposes but smiles gently at Arya. "What do you think, Sansa?"
"Yes, what does Lady of Winterfell have to say about it?" says Arya quickly. He meets Arya's gaze and she turns and walks towards the window. Sansa positively glares at her retreating figure.
Sansa does not respond immediately. "Does she know?" she asks with irritation. The question makes Arya turn again to face Sansa.
He presumes Sansa means Daenerys, it does not look like they took to liking each other. "Yes," he replies quietly. And he adds quickly to prevent any further questioning, "She accepts it."
Sansa snorts in reaction to his statement. 'It really doesn't go well,' he tells himself. He takes a deep breath. "So do you think we should tell everyone?" he looks at them again.
Bran only shrugs. "Why should we care what everyone thinks?" blurts Arya again.
"We should," says Sansa firmly. "The North needs to be united. And what the Northern lords think is important," she pauses. "That is why I think we should not tell them anything now. It would be a distraction. We have more important things to worry about. We can tell them later, when the war is won."
He smiles at Sansa but her face is impassive. "Thank you, Sansa, Arya, Bran," he says quietly.
"So do we call you Aegon now?" asks Arya. "Arya!" cries Sansa reprovingly.
"No," he says. "I'm still Jon. Jon Snow. And Ned Stark was my father, no matter what others may say. He was the only father I've known." He smiles and finally gets the smiles from everyone in the room. Even Bran which takes him by surprise.
The rest of the day was extremely busy and full of exhausting conversations. He was glad that at supper he did not have to talk much. Daenerys left early like before and he was ready to follow her when he saw Tyrion and Varys coming in his direction. His heart sunk.
They kept him long, even after the hall emptied. The biggest worry was undead Viserion and lack of sighting of the Lannister army. He finally had enough. "My lords, we can finish the conversation tomorrow. We all need some sleep."
He walked briskly along the corridors with just one thought in his mind: to find himself as soon as possible in the arms of the woman he loved.