Chapter 20: Fear and Love
Summary:
Jaime, Barristan, and Davos speak of news throughout Westeros in White Harbor. Olenna Tyrell plots the next move of her House.
Jon and Dany make a difficult decision, and briefly return to Winterfell.
Notes:
Warning for smut at the end.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Twenty: Fear and Love
It was a relief to set foot on dry land again after over a moon at sea, Jaime reflected.
Crossing the Narrow Sea to Essos and back again within the same year was not something he was eager to repeat. Truly, he didn't mind sea travel, but he did prefer it when the ground wasn't swaying beneath his feet. Even now, he was still trying to remind his body that there weren't waves rocking the world around him.
White Harbor was nice enough. The people were suspicious of them, of course—especially Jaime himself—but they fed and clothed the little group of travelers, and provided them with a warm, comfortable residence to recover from the long voyage.
Jaime imagined that meant negotiations had gone well between his King, Queen, and the Lords of the North.
He sat back in a chair near the hearth and cradled the tiny shape of Visenya Targaryen in his arms. The babe was currently sleeping fitfully, her little breaths strong and audible over the soft crackling of the fireplace.
Jaime had gotten used to holding Visenya rather regularly on the voyage. Their whole group made sure the child was loved and properly cared for when Doreah needed time to rest. She'd taken to sea travel well enough for so young a babe, and she hadn't gotten sick during that time—that was the biggest concern they'd had.
But she'd remained healthy and she was still doing well now that they were back on dry land. She was a strong little girl, he thought fondly.
The sound of the door opening had him turning his head carefully, so as to avoid jostling her. Barristan walked into the room with Ser Davos, who was meant to be leaving soon to rejoin Stannis Baratheon in the Stormlands. Both of them looked rather grim, and Jaime did not like the look on their faces in the slightest.
"Something is amiss?" Jaime asked without really needing to.
"Yes," Davos took a chair as well as Barristan, and they both shifted as quietly as they could manage to keep from waking Visenya.
Barristan's stern eyes softened when they found Visenya. Though the old Knight and Jaime would probably never be close friends, the Targaryen children they served bridged the gap enough that they wouldn't let open animosity damage their fragile alliance.
The young dragons deserved better than that from them.
"What news?"
Davos clasped his hands together and looked at Barristan for a moment. "Several matters. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"
"I'm not picky. Just spit it out."
"Well, the good news is that your Dragon King and Queen have engaged the Iron Fleet with the Northern army at Torrhen's Square. They fought a rather lopsided battle and dominated the Ironborn forces. Both of them are fine."
"And the bad news?"
"The bad news is…" Davos hesitated and glanced at Barristan, who just looked back with weary eyes. "Euron Greyjoy apparently has used his Dragonbinder Horn to get his hands on an Ice Dragon of all things. He took the beast to Lannisport and used it to force Lord Tywin to back him in the war."
Jaime's blood ran cold. "No."
"It's true," Barristan grimaced. "He's promised Euron your sister's hand in marriage as well as the Iron Throne. King's Landing is in chaos. Joffrey isn't taking the news well at all."
Of that, he had little doubt. Joffrey and Cersei both would be screaming with rage to learn that Tywin was backing Euron Greyjoy now, dragon or no dragon. There would be fear. Euron was possibly even worse a match for the throne than Joffrey—Jaime wasn't blind to the many faults of his spoiled son, but he didn't think Joffrey was as insane as the Crow's-Eye.
That didn't mean he thought Joffrey was a good King. He knew the boy was too power-hungry and demanding to be a good ruler.
Hopefully, the boy wouldn't dig himself too deep. Jaime knew Joffrey wouldn't have much of a future in Westeros once he was inevitably deposed, but he didn't want to see him dead. The same held true for Cersei. His sister had a lust for power and pleasure, and he knew she had used him for her own gain, but he didn't want her dead.
His heart twisted in conflict and he forced himself to focus. Rhaella's daughter and Rhaegar's son had his loyalty now, and they always would. And now, they were in danger.
"Can they win against this Ice Dragon?"
"I'm not sure. No one really knows anything about the beast, but it's as large as Frostfyre, or so they say. With any luck, she'll be able to kill the monster. Fire melts ice, after all."
"Here's hoping," Davos sighed. "As long as Euron has this…thing under his control, none of us are safe."
Jaime swallowed tightly. "What else?"
"Word is that Stannis and Renly are on the move," Davos grunted. "Moving towards King's Landing. Now that they know Tywin is focused on the North, they want to stake their claim on the Iron Throne."
That made sense. "King's Landing is a fortress. Even then…such a siege will still take months. It'll keep them busy."
"Agreed," Barristan admitted. "It also seems Stannis and Renly have been at odds with each other. They have very different ideas of how the Seven Kingdoms should be run. It seems the only thing keeping them united is the desire to see Joffrey deposed."
"Well, if they destroy themselves, it'll mean one less threat against Daenerys and Jaehaerys," Jaime mused, then glanced at Ser Davos. "No offense."
"You follow your King, I follow mine," the man replied simply. "Such is the way of the world."
Jaime nodded and looked down at Visenya, still deep in her dreams. "Is there anything else?"
"Well, Stannis and Renly have declared hostilities against the North for supporting the Dragon King," Barristan muttered. "They're not going to make the trip themselves like Tywin, but another conflict is in the air."
"What about the Kingdoms in the south?"
"Dorne's been quiet about it so far. They're going to sit back and see what happens, I imagine. The same with the Tyrells. They've supported Stannis and Renly so far to get Joffrey off of the throne—I suspect because of Loras Tyrell's…relationship with Renly, but they've not openly committed to any one side."
Jaime cocked his head slowly. "I confess, I'm a little surprised by that. I'd have thought Olenna would have all but thrown an alliance at the Baratheons."
"Maybe if Renly was going to be King," Davos shrugged. "But it's no secret that she and Stannis do not see eye-to-eye. Stannis is already married, anyways. The Queen of Thorns isn't going to set up a significant marriage proposal with Renly if he's only next in-line to the Throne. A 'second son' so to speak won't be good enough for her."
Things were quiet for a bit before Davos continued. "Well, I still intend to support Stannis, but I will urge him to seek for peace instead of war. I don't think your dragons would be poor rulers. Inexperienced, perhaps, but nothing like the Mad King. There's been enough death already, I think."
"On that, we agree," Barristan nodded. "You will leave soon?"
"I will. Though I think I shall not be telling my King exactly what I've been up to," the Onion Knight admitted, sighing. "Subterfuge is not preferable to me, but I will do what must be done."
"We are thankful for your help," Jaime told him. "If there's anything we can do for you, just send the word. I don't think our King and Queen will soon forget what you risked for us."
Davos' lips twitched up into a slight smile. "No, I think you're right on that. But whatever the case may be, I wish you well. I hope your rulers see Euron and his beast struck down. The world is at risk so long as they are alive."
The two Knights murmured agreement, and then Barristan escorted Davos out of the room with the soft click of the door shutting. The aged warrior then returned to his chair and sat down, rubbing his face exhaustedly.
Jaime felt Visenya twitch in his arms, but the babe was only shifting to make herself more comfortable. She had her thumb in her mouth, sucking on it in her sleep, and he couldn't help but smile a little.
"An Ice Dragon," Barristan muttered quietly, shaking his head. "Gods, we should be on the front lines with them."
"I know. I want to be there, as well," Jaime pursed his lips. "Perhaps when we get to Winterfell…"
"We'll have to send them a letter and ask permission. Even if Winterfell is the home of their Stark family, I don't think Jaehaerys or Daenerys would appreciate us leaving those they tasked us to protect without asking."
He nodded silently. "We could send a raven to Torrhen's Square now, and get an answer by the time we arrive at Winterfell. Lady Manderly might be kind enough to grant us that favor. She'll probably need to message Lord Manderly, anyway."
"I'll ask her about it," Barristan decided. He then glanced at little Visenya. "How long have you been here with her?"
"An hour, I think. Doreah needed to sleep. The voyage exhausted her more than any of us."
"I know. I worried she'd take ill again, but it seems she and her daughter are made of sterner stuff than I thought."
"Agreed."
Barristan clasped his hands together in front of him, staring into the flames. "If the worst happens to our King and Queen, I need your word that you will stay with me and help protect Visenya, Ser Jaime."
"You have it," he said without question. "I know my word may not mean much to you, but I won't stray again. I swore to guard Rhaella's blood with my life, and so I shall."
"Good."
Jaime meant that. He'd never let go of what little he had left of Rhaella Targaryen ever again.
Never.
Olenna Tyrell looked out over Highgarden, humming to herself in thought as she enjoyed some fruits and cheese for her lunch.
Margaery sat beside her, with Mace and Willas across the table. They'd come together at Olenna's summons, though Loras was in Storm's End with Renly and Stannis. The fool boy, she thought. She was fond of her grandson, yes, but he thought too much with his cock and not enough with his brain.
Stannis and Renly had made it clear they wouldn't ally with the North due to Lord Stark's "betrayal". Honestly, Olenna didn't give a damn whether the man had hidden Rhaegar Targaryen's son in his own keep. The fact of the matter was that the North was allied with the only force in Westeros that stood a ghost of a chance against Euron's monster.
Ideally, she would have preferred to wed Margaery to the Dragon King himself, but it had been confirmed that Jaehaerys had married Daenerys Targaryen. Queer, perhaps, but hardly the most unusual match she'd heard of—a nephew and his aunt. It was tame by Targaryen standards, and even acceptable by the standards of the Houses throughout Westeros.
Forging a marriage alliance with House Targaryen was impossible for the moment. But the Starks, who were close family with Jaehaerys, were not off the table. Robb Stark, the heir of the North, was said to be a striking young man—handsome, kind, and perhaps even intelligent enough one day to not be a bumbling fool like Olenna's son.
"Mother, I do not think this is wise."
Cue the fool.
"Tell me why you think it is not wise, my son," Olenna requested.
"Why? Should that not be clear? We cannot ally with the Targaryens! As for the Starks—they've betrayed their rightful King! Stannis will not—"
"—Stannis will sooner sit and wait for Euron and his beast to kill us than bend his pride," Olenna scoffed. "Eddard Stark has so far done only what he must to keep his House and lands safe. I certainly wouldn't have refused an alliance with the Dragon King if Euron was knocking on our door, threatening to murder our family and rape our women. Have you considered what he'll do to your daughter if he wins?"
Mace paled a bit, but stuttered on. "But—but even so, if the Targaryens win, they'll just do the same!"
"Will they? You think a boy raised by Eddard Stark is going to be prone to insanity? And from what I've heard, Daenerys is more like her mother than her father. A boy with Eddard Stark's sense and a girl with Queen Rhaella's gentleness—I rather think you couldn't get much further from Aerys Targaryen if you tried. Besides that, they are children. They are malleable. Euron Greyjoy, on the other hand, is not."
Willas pursed his lips. "I think grandmother has a point, father. I'd rather see the Targaryens returned to Westeros than watch Euron Greyjoy raze and rape his way across our home. Can you imagine what he'd do to Margaery, young and lovely as she is?"
Mace swallowed hard. "Still…"
"Let me do the thinking here, my son," Olenna ordered. "Stannis is already married, and I've no need to tell you that a sham marriage to Renly will not suit us well, especially when neither of them have any intention of dealing with Euron in a way they can win. If Margaery marries into House Baratheon, we will have only a little power in King's Landing, and less when one of the dragons comes to claim the Iron Throne from them."
"But Loras and Renly are lovers, mother. That will add some weight to our alliance."
"False weight," she reminded him stiffly. "A lover is not a spouse, and Stannis does not approve of his brother's frolicking with your son. No, anyone whom Renly marries will never have any true influence so long as Loras occupies his bed, and Loras will never have authority beyond his status as a Knight. That is not enough."
Mace threw up his hands. "Then why Robb Stark?"
"Use your brain, boy! He is the heir to a Great House, and the sworn brother and blood cousin to the Dragon King. Robb Stark is one of the most eligible bachelors in the Seven Kingdoms. Since I would much prefer the Targaryens win this war against Euron, that would make him the heir to a House closely allied to the King with a fully-grown dragon at his command. I do not need to tell you that if Euron and Tywin are defeated, Stannis will not last against the wrath of a dragon. Or have you forgotten what happened to House Gardner?"
Her son cringed and crossed his arms, considering the reasoning of his mother. Honestly, Olenna felt like she was one of the only people in this bloody country who used her brain these days.
"The Starks do not fare well in the south," Olenna continued. "Even if Lord Stark keeps some influence in King's Landing when this war is at its end, the men of the North will not likely maintain a lasting presence in the Red Keep. Who then, will they turn to when they have need of southern allies?"
She watched as it finally clicked in the eyes of her oaf son and stifled another sigh. About bloody time.
"Us," Mace said slowly.
"Yes, us," she repeated mockingly. "And even if the rumors are true, that the Targaryens are wary about returning to the Iron Throne, they are still powerful allies. We would still be allied with House Stark through marriage, and we could keep a presence in King's Landing that can be grown over time with our alliance to Stannis and Renly."
"How exactly would we be able to help them, grandmother?" Margaery asked curiously. "If I marry Robb Stark, we'd be allies, but how do we help them fight Euron?"
"Simple. We commit a portion of our forces to helping Stannis siege King's Landing—gods, won't that be a momentous waste of time—and the rest of our armies attack the Westerlands while Tywin is busy taking on the North. The Targaryens can focus on defeating Euron and his monster while we take away Tywin's attention. If they win—pray gods, let them win—then in conjecture with the marriage contract, we can ensure Eddard Stark and Jaehaerys Targaryen march to help depose Joffrey Baratheon, should Stannis fail to do so."
Willas nodded slightly in thought and then let his lips rise into a slight smirk. "Can we assume you've already seen to it that a letter is on the way to the Starks?"
Olenna fought a smile. At least one of the men in her House wasn't an idiot. Thank the gods she'd kept Willas close in his childhood, and now Margaery as well. Her grandchildren wouldn't be idiots—well, most of them, anyways. The jury was still out on Loras, but Garlan was smart enough for her liking.
"Mother!" Mace protested. "You cannot be serious!"
"Do I appear to be in a jesting mood, son? No. I have already sent a letter detailing what I have told you to Lord Stark. Though it will take time to reach them, with any luck we will see Margaery wed Robb Stark inside of a year. We'd be more fortunate still if they manage to kill Euron and this monster of his."
She waved away any further protests. "No, enough of your complaining. I will not sit idly by while Euron Greyjoy tries to reave and rape his way to our home. We will ally ourselves to House Stark and the Dragon King one way or another, and you should pray to the gods that they win this war. Now begone, and keep this conversation quiet from Stannis and Renly. The last thing I need right now is their bickering directed at me. Now, begone with you, Mace! You have work to do, I am sure."
Her son was still spluttering in disbelief, but he knew better than to test his prickly mother when she tired of his presence. He muttered his goodbyes to Willas and Margaery, and then quickly took his leave.
Olenna harrumphed and plucked another grape from her plate. "I swear, your grandfather turned your father into an oaf just like him. A grown man and I still have to run this bloody castle myself…"
"We appreciate your struggle and sacrifice, grandmother," Willas murmured, laughing when she tossed a grape at him.
"Don't you start with me," Olenna muttered. She then looked at Margaery. "Do you have anything to ask of me, my dear? You must forgive me for springing this on you so suddenly, but time is currently of the essence everywhere in this country."
"I understand, grandmother," Margaery replied, smiling. "I am curious about Robb Stark, though. Have you learned much of him?"
"No, nothing beyond what I told you," she admitted. "But he is your age and so far, he seems promising enough a young man. I won't wed you to a savage, alliance or no alliance. It is why Joffrey Baratheon will not be seated beside you as your husband."
Willas raised an eyebrow. "They tried to marry Joffrey to Margaery?"
"Cersei and Tywin want to remove Stannis' allies, no doubt. Of course, rumors are already spreading that our nasty little Lannister King is turning out to be a very poor ruler, and a cruel one, at that. They can't crush everything that comes out of the Red Keep. I suspect a spider in the castle is responsible for these tales. I've heard that these rumors often come from the mouths of children. Little birds, you might say."
"Lord Varys? Hmm," Margaery hummed thoughtfully. "Do you think he's supporting the Targaryens?"
"I think he is a devious man whose plots have plots," Olenna scoffed. "But I do not think the possibility is nonexistent, no. Whatever the case, we will be cautious going forward. I will not commit us to any one King, but we won't support a tyrant on the Iron Throne. We shall ally ourselves with those who will rule properly, and we will bide our time."
"'Growing strong' one might say," Willas teased, and his grandmother threw another grape at him, though her scowl was fond.
"I will try to learn as much about Robb Stark as I can, my dear," Olenna told Margaery. "Rest assured, you will be wed to a kind man if I have anything to say about it."
"Thank you, grandmother," Margaery told her gratefully, and the three Tyrells then proceeded to enjoy their meal together in-full.
Jon—nay, everyone in the makeshift war room at Torrhen's Square—was frozen in their seats, ears ringing at the news.
"An Ice Dragon," Lady Mormont swallowed tightly. "You are certain?"
"So the reports say," Lord Stark passed the letter around the table, one after another, for his Lords to read themselves. "Euron took the beast to Lannisport to force Tywin Lannister's cooperation. As of a fortnight ago, the Ironborn and Lannister armies are united."
"Fuck," the Greatjon swore. "As if they weren't bad enough separately."
Lord Manderly glanced at Jon and Daenerys. "Do you two know anything about such a beast?"
"I've never even heard of an Ice Dragon before," Dany replied, frowning deeply.
Jon only shook his head slowly. "I know as much about them as you do. They're spoken of in children's stories in the North, but I didn't think they were real. Do we know where he got it?"
"No," Lord Stark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "All we know is that the beast might be as large as Frostfyre, and it's certainly as dangerous. Apparently, it froze a swath of the bay at Lannisport."
"Fire melts ice," Lord Bolton pointed out. "In theory, our dragon should best Euron's."
"I certainly hope so. If we knew more about the bloody beast, I'd feel more sure of our odds."
"Well, on the bright side, at least we know one thing," Ser Talhart remarked. "You made the right call sending for the Targaryens, Lord Stark. We'd have no chance against a monster like that without their dragon."
"Aye," the Greatjon grunted agreement. A short chorus of murmurs matched him, and Jon felt slightly less uneasy knowing that the North at least was happy to have them around now. He and Daenerys had proven themselves in battle with Frostfyre during the conflict against Victarion Greyjoy's fleet, but now the underlying tension was melting away to nothing.
Not gone, but a good sight better than it had been before.
"Do you think you can take Euron's monster on?" Lady Mormont asked him and Dany.
"Frostfyre is a vicious fighter," Jon replied. "I've never seen her fight another dragon, of course, but I'm confident she'll rip it apart once she gets her claws into it. As Lord Bolton said, fire melts ice. If they're close in size, I think she will be able to best it."
Dany drummed her fingers on the table. "We don't actually have to kill it. We just have to get the Dragonbinder Horn away from Euron and destroy it, or better yet, take control of the Ice Dragon ourselves."
Robb, seated to his father's right, raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you can do that?"
"The Dragonbinder was made by the Dragon Lords of Old Valyria. It was made for us," she reminded him.
"Do you think Frostfyre could steal it from them?"
"She could, but the problem is we have no idea where the Dragonbinder is," Jon pointed out. "It could be on Euron's ship, it could be on Pyke somewhere…and I doubt he keeps it out in the open all the time."
He pursed his lips. "There's another problem. If I ride Frostfyre into battle against the Ice Dragon, I need a saddle."
Lord Manderly frowned. "Why? You've ridden her well enough without one until now."
"Aye, but you don't know how much that restricts her flight," Jon replied. "It's all fine and good against enemies on the ground, but the sky is another matter. She can't roll or spin in the air so long as I ride her bareback. She knows I'll fall off. If we go up against another dragon, I cannot restrict her like that."
"So how do we make a saddle for a dragon?" Demanded the Greatjon.
"Tyrion might know," Robb suggested, looking at his father. "He was able to fashion a saddle for Bran to ride in, and he knows plenty about the dragons from the Targaryen dynasty. The blacksmiths could put something together if he draws up a design."
"You really trust that little runt?" Lady Mormont scowled.
"I trust that he's got a childish fascination towards dragons," Robb shrugged. "Making a saddle for one might just be a dream come true for him. He made one that works well for Bran, so why not one for Jon?"
"And what if he betrays us in favor of his father?" Lord Bolton pointed out, his tone a warning.
Jon sighed, glancing at Dany. She inclined her head slightly and answered Roose. "It's a risk we have to take. Jon needs to be up there, guiding Frostfyre during battle. He can't just let her run wild without direction for fear that the Ice Dragon will show up at any time. Tyrion might be our best hope for getting a saddle built in time."
"I'll talk to him about it once we're done here," Jon agreed.
"Good," Lord Stark nodded. "We'll keep an ear out for more rumors about Euron and Tywin's alliance in the meantime, and a steady eye on the horizon in case this new threat decides to seek us out. In the meantime, there is other news to tell.
"First, my goodfather, Lord Hoster Tully, has managed to encourage the young Robert Arryn to travel to Winterfell to meet his extended family," Ned reported. "He'll be escorted by the Blackfish, Ser Brynden, to my home and will remain there for the foreseeable future. He'll be safe amidst our people in case Lord Baelish means to act in a sinister fashion towards him."
There was some relief to that news. At least they wouldn't have to worry about the Vale turning on them as well.
"How did your goodsister take to that?" Lady Mormont asked.
"I'm told by my wife that she was too focused on her upcoming marriage to Lord Baelish to spare it much thought. She seems to think her son is out with his grandfather to get some fresh air outside of the Eerie while she plans her wedding."
The Greatjon laughed. "Well, she's got that right, at least!"
"What else?" Lord Bolton asked.
"Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jaime Lannister arrived at White Harbor the other day," Ned told Jon and Dany more than the others. "Along with the rest of your people. All are well. I'm told they intend to spend a fortnight recovering from their voyage before they begin traveling to Winterfell."
"Good," Dany let out a sigh. Jon reached beneath the table and squeezed her knee gently. She slipped her hand into his and they took some comfort in the touch.
"Will Ser Jaime write that letter we discussed?" Robb asked curiously. "His admittance to the bastardy of Joffrey and his siblings?"
"I'll ask when I write to him and Ser Barristan," Jon replied. "I doubt he'll refuse."
"And if he does?" Lord Manderly queried.
"I'll order him if I must, but I really don't think it's even necessary at this point. Tywin allying with Euron's forces is going to set the whole realm against House Lannister. Nobody wants a madman on the Iron Throne."
There was a spattering of agreements to that, heartfelt and unanimous.
"I wish I had more good news," Lord Stark said then, silencing them. His face was grave again. "But it seems Stannis and Renly Baratheon didn't take to the news about our Targaryen alliance well at all. They haven't declared war yet, but hostilities are in the air."
Jon scowled. "Even after they learned about Euron's dragon?"
"I don't know if they're aware of his beast yet," Ned admitted. "But after Stannis takes the Iron Throne—if he can successfully sack King's Landing, that is—I believe he'll turn his eyes towards us. In his mind, we're in rebellion."
Dany's eyes narrowed. "He is welcome to try and attack our allies. The only enemies he has should be Euron and Tywin."
"We shall see. I intend to try and get a raven to him, to explain our situation, and we'll find out then how he responds. Ideally, I'd rather not have to deal with the Stormlands on top of the Iron Islands and the Westerlands. We are strong, but we must be careful not to stretch ourselves too thin."
Ned paused then, allowing everyone to fully grasp his words, and continued after a few seconds. "That's all the news I have from our ravens. Lord Talhart tells me repairs to Torrhen's Square are going well, and we should be able to have a small feast soon enough. Victarion's execution will take place today, just after midday. Any further questions?"
There were none. Ned looked around at his Lords and Ladies. "Dismissed."
They all stood and moved out with the sounds of chairs shifting. Jon made to get up with Dany's help—his leg was healing well, but it was still a bit stiff, though it didn't hurt nearly as much anymore.
"Jon, Daenerys," Ned stopped them. "If I could speak to you two in private for a few minutes."
They exchanged curious glances with one another, but nodded, moving to sit closer to the Lord of Winterfell. Once everyone else was gone and the doors had closed, they were left in temporary silence.
Ned studied the pair of them. "How are you healing?"
"Well," Jon replied. "Bit stiff, but I'll be moving properly again soon, I think."
"That's good," Ned pursed his lips. "Before I say my piece, I want you both to understand that I won't order you to do this if you don't wish it, but I feel I must speak my mind. Please remember that while we talk."
He frowned at his uncle, who took a deep breath. "Daenerys, I think you should return to Winterfell for the duration of the war."
Dany raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"A few reasons," Ned sighed. "Honestly, I had my reservations about you coming with us, but given how you both performed during the Battle for Torrhen's Square, as well as your successful scouting and raiding missions, I was inclined to believe it was an acceptable risk. But knowing now that Euron has a dragon of his own…I feel the chances of you both dying are too great."
He held a hand up when she opened her mouth to object. "I say this only out of my own concern. If you both die, House Targaryen might very well be finished. Little Visenya is in White Harbor now, but she's just an infant and if you two are gone, no one will remain to teach her how to be a Targaryen."
"Aemon—"
"Aemon might not live to see another decade, Jon," Ned reminded him gently. "He's already a hundred years old. If you both die and Aemon isn't alive, who will Visenya turn to, then? Stories are one thing, but you two—you're perhaps the only true Targaryen Dragon Lords in a century. You must be there for her."
Jon closed his mouth, frowning deeply. His uncle had a good point. Even now, he remembered holding little Visenya close in his arms, singing her to sleep…
"The reason I suggest Daenerys return to Winterfell is because you are Frostfyre's Rider," Ned explained further. "The dragon will not obey another master unless you die, and if you die together, who will command her then? She'll be lost without a Rider. This way, should the worst happen, Daenerys may be able to claim the dragon in your stead and still be there for Visenya."
He paused again and then looked between them. "Moreover, it pains me to tell you this, but I really think you should try for a child."
They both stared at him, eyes a little wide.
"You are the only married couple of House Targaryen," Ned reasoned. "Your House is still down to just three people, and Jon is the only male. You're at even more of a risk than House Stark was during Robert's Rebellion. I at least still had Benjen back in Winterfell in case I died in battle. Even then, I had to leave Catelyn at home with our firstborn child in her belly before I went to war."
He was quiet for a few moments. "It's not fair. I fought that war in the hopes that our family would never be subjected to such a thing ever again. It shouldn't be this way, but I fear it is. I know you both have your reservations on such an idea, but if it's of any comfort, your House is welcome to remain in Winterfell as my family for as long as you wish, whether we win or lose this war."
Ned looked slowly from Jon to Dany. "I won't make an order of it. You stand beside us as independent allies, and you rule yourselves. Though I know it is not an easy decision to make, I beg of you to consider this. Daenerys, you would be safe at Winterfell. My wife and her midwives would be able to help you through a pregnancy if you decide to try for a child. They've delivered all of my children without issue.
"It's your decision in the end, but I felt I had to speak my mind," he finished. "I don't want to see your House reduced to nothing. Your family has suffered as much as my own, and it has yet to recover from the war. Whether you choose to return to Winterfell or not, you have my support."
Jon and Dany exchanged a long, long look with each other. He didn't want to think about being parted from her—didn't want to think about the possibility of leaving her behind with a child growing in her belly, without him beside her to be there…
But even so, his uncle had raised several excellent points…
"If we—" Jon cut himself off and licked his lips nervously. "Let's say we agree, what would you suggest?"
"I'd suggest flying to Winterfell with all haste," Ned murmured. "You can travel faster than I can barely imagine. You'd be able to get Daenerys there and return to us within a week. Perhaps you could stay there for a short while—write your letter to Ser Jaime. If you decide to try for a child, Winterfell is certainly more the place to do so than a war march."
He flushed hotly, and Dany squeezed his hand tight.
"We'll talk about it," Jon told him at last.
"Forgive me," Ned said quietly. "I know it's not what you want to hear. It's not the easy thing to do, but I fear it's the right thing."
"We appreciate your honesty and your counsel, Lord Stark," Dany thanked him. Ned nodded, then he stood and left the room, leaving them alone together.
Jon looked down at their joined hands, rubbing his thumb against her soft skin. Neither of them said anything for a while, and just processed their situation.
"I think he's right," Dany whispered at last.
Jon's eyes rose to meet hers. The twin violets were sad, but steady. A lump rose into his throat. "I don't want to leave you."
"I don't want to part from you either," she bit her lip. "But we have to be smart about this. If we both die, if the worst should happen, no one will be there to teach Visenya how to be a Targaryen. We have to make certain at least one of us survives this war. And…and I hate that it has to be you, but you are Frostfyre's Rider. Gods, we should have tried harder to hatch the dragon eggs before we came here…"
"They'd still be too small to fight," he reminded her quietly.
She nodded, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them, there was a hesitance in her gaze. "We should fly to Winterfell. Tomorrow. And…and we should…"
"Do you want to try?"
"Yes," she gasped, and her eyes were watering. "I do. I want that with you. And he's right that we should—we should try, but if you don't make it—"
"Don't," he cut her off, reaching for his wife and gathering her up into his arms. She sat in his lap, wrapped her arms around him tight and squeezed the life out of him. Jon felt his eyes sting as he buried his face in her shoulder. "Don't think like that."
"We can't be like our parents," her breath hitched in her throat. "We have to be there if we have a child, both of us, we have to be there."
"I know. I promise we will be," he swallowed.
It was so ominously like the last words between Rhaegar and Lyanna that Jon couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine, but he steeled himself and squeezed his love close to him. He wouldn't die in battle like his father, and Dany…Dany wouldn't die giving birth. He had to believe that.
He had to.
"Come to bed with me," he told her softly.
Dany sniffed. "Jon, I don't think I can…not right now."
"I didn't mean that," he let out a weak laugh. "I just want to hold you."
"Oh. That sounds lovely, actually," she took a shaky breath and stood up then, helping him to his feet and then tugging him away from the war room.
Victarion's execution was almost an afterthought to them.
Jon remembered watching with the Lords of the North as Victarion was brought to the block, screaming and spitting promises of retribution from the Drowned God, cursing them forevermore and swearing more crudely than anyone else he'd ever seen. Lord Stark allowed him his last words, met with sneers from the men of the North.
He watched with the others as Victarion's enraged screams were silenced by a swing of Ice, and heard the dull thump of the Greyjoy's head falling into a basket.
The night passed them by, long and restless for Jon and Dany. They'd already told Lord Stark that they'd be leaving for Winterfell in the morning. Tyrion would be working on designs for a saddle in the meantime. The dwarf had been giddy at the idea, even more eager when he heard that his brother might soon be joining them.
They tried to be happy about that, but it was difficult with the inevitable parting looming over their heads.
At dawn, Jon and Dany said their goodbyes to Lord Stark, Robb, and Theon, and then left on Frostfyre for Winterfell. The flight only took them a day. By the end of it, Jon's leg was aching, but he wasn't in pain. He was healing well.
When they landed outside of the gates, Lady Catelyn rushed to meet them with Sansa and Arya at her heels, brow furrowed deeply.
"What's wrong?" She demanded worriedly.
Jon pressed his lips. "Can we talk in private?"
Catelyn led them to Ned's solar, where they divulged their dilemma and decision. She quickly became sympathetic.
"I know it's not easy," she told them gently. "I remember when Ned had to leave for war just after we were married. I know how terrifying it is, not knowing what sort of future awaits you and your family. But Ned was right—we'll always be here for you. For both of you."
"Thank you," Jon murmured, swallowing.
"Look at me, Jon," Catelyn stepped around the seat of her husband and stood in front of the boy who was now as tall as she was, reaching down to clasp his hands in hers. "Do you remember the words of my House?"
"Family. Duty. Honor."
"Yes. Your family will be safe here in Winterfell," she murmured. "And when you return to the war, you will do your duty and you will survive for them. There is nothing more honorable."
She hesitated then. "You are not my son by blood. I know I was not always a good mother to you, but to me, you are my son in all the ways that matter. I fear for your safety as much as I fear for my husband and Robb. You will fight for us, and in-turn, we will stay safe here in Winterfell for you. Do you understand?"
Jon took a shaky breath. "I understand."
Catelyn leaned over and kissed his brow, then did the same to Dany. "Both of you rest tonight. Recover from your journey. I know your time is limited, but I wish you both to treasure what happiness you can before you must part."
Jon joined his hand to Dany's and nodded, solemn and already dreading that day.
There was some joy to be found in Winterfell.
Jon and Dany spent the day after their return with Arya and Sansa, as well as the dire wolves. Bran was with Lady Stark and Hodor, practicing on his pony in the special saddle Tyrion had designed for him.
Frostfyre flew off in the meantime, likely to hunt and get away from all the people. A social creature, she was not.
Jon and Dany took some time in the solar and wrote the letter to be sent to White Harbor, requesting Ser Jaime make a statement regarding the bastardy of Joffrey Baratheon. He felt guilty about doing so for a short time, but then reminded himself that Tywin, Joffrey, and Cersei would sooner see him and his family all dead, and steeled his spine.
They spent only a short time in the hot springs together, trying to relax. The hot water was a godsend for Jon's healing leg—the aching faded tremendously after a good, long soak.
Even then, by the time night fell and they retired to their chambers, there was still an underlying tension. Not the charged excitement of playful lust, but the fear of the unknown waiting for them.
Dressed in their nightclothes, they came together on the furs of their bed, the fire crackling quietly close by, and lay down beside one another.
Jon pulled Dany into his side, and she nestled her head on his shoulder, reaching for his hand and holding it across his chest. He sighed, pressing his lips to the top of her head, and his spare hand stroked her hip.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"I don't know what to do," he muttered lamely.
"What we usually do," she replied, voice a little dry. He snorted, trying to focus on the slight humor.
"You know what I mean."
"I do. I'm trying not to think of it," Dany nuzzled at his neck with her nose. "I'm thinking of anything but you going back to fight."
"What are you thinking of right now?"
She hesitated, but he waited patiently for her. Finally, she whispered her answer.
"Names."
Jon stilled, his mind suddenly reeling. "Oh."
"It's stupid, I know," Dany squeezed his hand. "I'm not—gods, we haven't even…"
"It's not stupid. It's important," he disagreed quietly. "What…have you thought of any yet? Any you like?"
"A few. You remember when we were talking to Doreah about names for Visenya?"
That got a little smile rising on Jon's lips. A gentle warmth in his belly at the memory. "Aye."
"I always liked Daemon," she murmured. "We could name a boy Daemon after our great uncle on the Wall, I was thinking. Or maybe Rhaeserys, for my brothers."
"Mm. I think I like Daemon more," he admitted quietly. He tried to picture it—a boy child with Dany's silver hair and his dark eyes, like Jon's father. The idea made his stomach flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. "What about girls?"
"The only one I really like so far is Lucenna. I was thinking more on boy names, honestly. I haven't had time to think about girls yet."
"Lucenna," Jon whispered, frowning thoughtfully. An idea suddenly struck him. "What about Rhaenna? Your mother and mine."
"Rhaenna," Dany repeated, and her fingers squeezed Jon's. "Rhaenna Targaryen. I think that might be the one."
She pushed up suddenly, shifting so she was straddling his hips and looked down at him. His hands rose to her waist, holding her as he met the violet eyes of his lover. Of his wife.
Dany cupped his face in her hands and leaned down to press her lips to his, her voice a breath against his skin. "Make love to me, Jon."
He sat up with her, holding her close as he slotted his mouth against hers. The fear was fading, replaced with the comfortable, urgent heat between them. Together they stoked it, hands roaming and squeezing. Dany rocked her hips slowly against him and he sighed in response.
Jon took his hands away from her only long enough to remove his nightshirt, tossing it aside and then moving to help Dany pull her gown up and over her head. He swallowed at the sight of her bare body, clad only now in her smallclothes.
Suddenly hungry to feel her again, he pulled her close, lightning rushing through his veins at the feel of their bare skin rubbing together. He kissed at her neck, leaving little nips in his wake as she trembled beneath his touch. Her hands rose to carve her fingers through his hair, scratching and pulling while she murmured softly to him.
He trailed his mouth down to her chest, taking a nipple between his teeth and teasing it until she whimpered, and then he lavished the other with the same attention. Jon bit at one of her breasts, sucking hard enough to make her gasp, and felt a rush of satisfaction when he saw the mark he'd left behind upon her fair skin.
Dany pushed him down onto his back, her eyes now clouded with desire, and moved down his body to tug his pants free. Jon lifted his hips to help, breathing sharply when she tugged them free along with his underclothes and left him bare to her eyes.
She reached for him, taking his stiffening manhood in-hand, and stroked him the way she knew he liked. Jon's head fell back into the pillow as his breath became shaky, pulses of heat tingling through his body.
"Dany—Dany, fuck, you can't—I'll—"
She mercifully released him, leaving Jon trembling to fight down the growing urge in his belly. He heard the rustling of clothes and looked up when he regained control of himself, watching as she tossed her smallclothes to the side and left herself as naked as him.
Dany shifted to lie down beside him, quickly pulling his mouth to his. Jon responded with fire, tugging her close as his hands roamed up and down her body. He traced down her shoulder, along her side and belly, to her hip, and then to her arse, which he grasped and squeezed. She moaned into his mouth, bucking her hips.
Slowly, he rolled them so he was hovering over her, then Jon started to kiss his way down her body. Dany gasped as he trailed bites and kisses down her torso, all the way to her belly and hips, and then finally to the join of her legs. Jon tucked his arms under and over her legs, then settled his mouth where she needed him most.
"Jon," she writhed beneath him, whining as he lapped at her rosy, lower lips with his tongue. He sucked and licked and nipped until she was a wet mess, trembling to his every touch. The honey of her swelling cunt came in a steady stream, filling his mouth with the taste of her.
She reached down, squeezing his hair and shaking her head furiously. "Fuck—Jon, I can't—!"
Jon pulled her closer, keeping her hips pinned to the bed as he ravished his wife, desiring more than anything to see her come undone. She squirmed and let out a series of small whimpers, and then she threw her hands over her mouth to muffle her wail as he finally brought to her the release she needed.
He lapped at her greedily, feeling her twitch beneath him until she tugged at his hair hard enough that he couldn't ignore her. Jon rose up, letting her legs go and feeling rather pleased with the way they flopped onto the bed, loose and liquid like the rest of her.
She was panting, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy as she pulled him down to her lips for a lazy, tongue-filled kiss.
When they parted so she could breathe, Dany choked out a whisper. "Not fair."
"What's not fair?" Jon nudged at her nose with his own, peering into her eyes. She giggled and the sight made him smile.
"You didn't let me finish you, but you got to finish me," she pouted.
"Mm. Well, I'm conflicted right now, you see," he told her teasingly. "I remember after we captured that Ironborn, you ordered me not to finish inside of you until the war was over. And yet here we are, and I'm supposed to do just that. What should I do, Your Grace?"
She rolled her eyes, reaching down before he could blink to take his cock in-hand and squeeze, causing him to gasp. "That first order is hereby revoked by command of your Queen."
"Well, I shouldn't disobey my Queen," Jon managed to force out when she stroked him. Her eyes narrowed playfully.
"No, you should not," Dany agreed, her lips rising into a lazy smile. "Now, move. I want to try something."
Jon blinked, backing off when she released him, only to feel his throat go dry when Daenerys rolled onto her belly and rose onto her elbows and knees.
He swallowed, shifting behind her and stroking at her hips. She shifted her hair over one shoulder, looking back at him with a mixture of shyness and excitement. They certainly hadn't tried this before.
"Tell me if I should stop," he told her, moving close and reaching for cock. She nodded, biting her bottom lip as Jon lined himself up, rubbing the head of his manhood against her folds to gather the wetness there. He caught himself against her and then grasped her hips, slowly pushing into her plush cunt from behind.
Dany whimpered, head falling forward and quivering around him. "Oh. Oh, gods."
Jon squeezed her hips, head bowed over and shaking. The change in angle was incredible, rubbing against different places in different ways, and gods save him—
His every nerve was electrified, lightning in his veins and fire in his blood. Every sense was too much, the feel of her cunt tight around his cock sensitized to the extreme.
Jon somehow managed to pull back a bit, moaning at the sensation of her folds clenching around his manhood, and pushed in again. He tried to pull back further and slipped out by accident, making them both gasp.
"Fuck," Jon was quick to push back into her, this time remaining pressed close to his wife's bottom as he made short, jerking thrusts into her cunt. Dany whimpered and made little sounds that were music to his ears, a match to his desperate pants and pleasured gasps.
He reached down around her, rubbing his fingers against her cunt and she squeaked, going rigid in his grasp. Jon rubbed at her, kissing and biting at her shoulders as she trembled and quivered, babbling into the sheets while her folds squeezed and tightened around him.
"Dany," his voice broke, he couldn't keep going, he wasn't going to—
Jon felt himself snap. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him so he could thrust as deeply into her cunt as possible, and let out a broken gasp as he spilled his seed into her womb. Dany let out a cry, her thighs quivering as he kept her pressed tight against his hips.
"Jon," she moaned, gasping for breath. He pressed kisses all over her back, desperate to love her. To see her belly grow full and round with a child borne of their love.
He stayed inside of her until his cock grew slack, and when he slipped from her they both gasped at the loss. Jon fell to his side and tugged her into his chest. He glanced down, saw the slickness between her legs.
Jon kissed at her neck, both of them still shaken and recovering from their release. Dany snuggled her back into him, reaching for his hand and tugging it around to rest on her tummy. The gesture made a lump rise in his throat—the idea that they might have just conceived a child together.
"I love you," she told him, her voice full and choked up with affection.
Jon's eyes stung with tears. He squeezed her close and drowned his fears and sorrows away in the feel of her beside him, together as they were meant to be.
"I love you, too."
Notes:
Still tired from work, but I want to try to keep the story moving.
Remember: I have a plan. I know what I'm doing. Have faith, ye readers.