Leonette Tyrell walked into the gods' wood. She did not typically go to this particular part of the gardens. It had frightened her as a girl, and now it terrified her. The stillness, the quiet weight that made laughing or dismissing the realness of the old gods foolish. Words trapped in the back of her throat. It was beautiful here.
The tree was massive, but it wasn't what her gaze focused on. Instead, her eyes found the human-appearing form sitting beneath the giant looming weight of the bleeding eyes of the weirwood. It was ironic that the woman with human-appearing shoulders was likely the more divine, certainly the most powerful. Leonette likely would have delayed this conversation slightly longer if it had not been brought to her attention that delaying would do nothing worthwhile. In that at least, Lord Varys was correct.
She came to a stop at a respectful distance from the living gods. "Holiness."
Goddess Quake looked away from the faces in the tree, her dark gaze felt weighted. "Hi?" Her eyes flicked to the wood's entrance, confusion on her face before she was looking at her again. "Did something happen?"
"I wished to speak with you, if you willed, Holiness." Leonette refused to lower her gaze. It was clear assuming and submitting to this Goddess had been a mistake. Also assuming her behavior meant what it would if she was mortal had clearly been wrong.
Goddess Quake half hopped, half floated to her feet. "Sure?" She walked closer but left more than an arm's length between them. "Where's Garlan?"
She shook her head faintly. "I thought perhaps we could take a turn of the garden, just us, if that was acceptable?"
"Why leave your guards behind?" Goddess Quake asked slowly.
Leonette gently tipped her head. "A sign of trust. Am I wrong to make it, Holiness?"
"No." Goddess Quake softened. "No, you're not wrong. But come on, you're jumpy as hell."
She breathed out and took the offered arm. Sliding her arm through the crook of the Goddess's. It was a relief to be gently led out of the gods' wood. "Thank you."
/
Jon felt shaky, gods this was a terrible idea. But Varys had a point. "Seth, stay here."
"Your Highness, her Holiness won't like this." Seth was pained and distinctly pale-looking as his eyes flicked the field where the dragons were eating some cows that'd been brought out for them, and to where Daenerys was clearly waiting for him.
He winced. "It needs to be done. If I'm to marry a dragon rider, her mount has to at least not try and eat me."
"Your Highness they attacked last time!" Seth's fingers were spasming around the hilt of his sword.
Jon dropped his hand on the man's shoulder. "They attacked her Holiness. Plenty of dragon riders have introduced their dragons to their spouses and lovers. If I'm to be her consort, I need her dragons to not randomly eat me. I'll be by their mother's side the whole time."
"I was ordered to protect you by the Queen herself!" Seth protested. "We can't have peace if you get eaten!"
Jon squeezed Seth's shoulder. "It's going to be fine. They will not eat their mother, they won't harm me." He really wished he shared the confidence he was pretending to have. But Varys had made a good point. It had been known that Targaryens who were riders introduced their dragons to their lovers. And if he was to lead his future wife to war with said dragons, he really did need to be able to at least go near her when she was mounted upon one. Just tactically it would be important he and some of her guard were able to ride with her into battle to ensure she didn't get herself killed.
Seth grimaced. "Highness, if you do this I'll send someone to fetch her Holiness."
"You do that." Jon was not looking forward to the probable lecture. But clearly bringing Daisy with him for this was a terrible idea and she'd insist on it.
He repeated it'd be fine in his head. Besides, the dragons were fascinating and a small part of him left from boyhood was delighted at the prospect of meeting them. He might even get to touch one! Robb and Arya would have killed for the chance. And again he could not deny the draw the creatures had on him. The way his eyes naturally lifted to the sky when one was passing over, whether he heard it or not. It was as if he knew it was there. Mayhaps it was a warg thing?
Jon walked towards Daenerys, very aware that Seth had just taken off at a sprint to find Daisy. He probably should be glad of so loyal a guard. And to be fair, the man probably had the right of it. But the dragons had to accept at least the presence of some men besides the Queen near them. It was imperative for her safety when flying to war against the Dead.
"Your guard certainly seems displeased," Daenerys remarked as she watched him approach.
His lips twitched upwards. "Aye, he's made his displeasure known. He's a good man. Don't let your children eat me and there won't be any trouble."
"Stay near to me then." She held out her hand.
Jon felt a soft warmth as he took her hand in his. She was fierce and beautiful and good. He knew that he could love her given time. And that was more than enough.
Daenerys led him to the great red beast of a dragon. It near enough must be what Balarion the Black Dread had appeared like when he'd been a dragon in his prime. Her face was alight, she loved these beasts as truly and deeply as he cared for Ghost.
He wondered if the Targaryens had a form of the old warging magicks in their blood? It made as much sense as anything. The heat from the dragons was tangible as they came closer, the same as the heat he felt from Daenerys's own hand. He felt awe and not an insignificant terror at the sight of the dragons so close.
Daenerys was brash and unafraid as she strode to her largest child and mount. Her eyes closed as Drogon pressed his massive nose against her. It was terrifying and yet incredible how gentle the creature was towards its mother. It blew out a deep breath, the sulphuric scent of it was nearly overpowering. She didn't open her eyes, just gently pulling Jon forward, till she was pressing the flat of his hand against Drogon's snout.
His eyes were wide, his heart beating near violently in his chest. He felt a rumble in his bones of recognition. If he'd thought on that it would have surprised him, but as it was he merely found himself smiling at the rightness of it, the awe of it all. His voice was low as he spoke, deep with the utter truth of it. "He's gorgeous."
Drogon pushed against his hand and then pulled his head back, shifting his head to one side so that he could look at him. A moment passed between them. And then the great beast moved back to its meal. It felt like a test passed.
He let out a breathless laugh. "Truly, they are incredible. I had never thought to see them." Jon grinned like a silly boy, his eyes not moving away from the three creatures from history and legend. "We used to explore the crypts convinced we'd find eggs from when Prince Jacaerys flew to Winterfell during the Dance. It was just an old wives tale. But we spent hours convinced there was some corner none had looked in before."
"Those must have been dear days," Daenerys said, her hand turning, lacing their fingers together.
He turned away from the great beasts. "They may take a while to warm, but when we are wed, they will be your family as well. If they can call me their brother in full, and love me as fiercely as any of our kin, they will find it impossible not to love you." Jon felt full with the truth of it. He could not give her dragons, or gold, or power that his sister did not grant him to give, but he could give her family. His loyalty. And perhaps that would be enough.
She reached up with her free hand, brushing his loose hair behind his ear. Her warm palm stayed there resting.
And Jon may not be a man of great experience or even any experience beyond Ygritte. But he knew when a woman wished for him to kiss her. And so he did, reverently.
Daenerys was having none of it, kissing him back and hard. Her fingers curled into his hair enough to pull.
He couldn't help laughing against her even as he obeyed the command to kiss her properly. Not that he was passive, this, this he knew how to do and do properly. When he finally breathlessly pulled away, he felt fit to burst. His eyes were still closed. Even distracted he knew the dragons had moved, they were not quite creatures.
A shiver ran down his spine at the feel of dragon breath against the back of his neck. He opened his eyes staring into Daenerys'. "Which dragon is behind me?"
"Rhaegal." Her eyes were warm, her passion shining through. "My children approve I believe."
Jon couldn't help the nervous sound he let out. "Well, I won't be eaten then."
"No, not today," Daenerys replied with good humor. A fierce pleasure at her children's acceptance seemed to fill her.
He turned slowly, and his eyes widened at how close the great green dragon was. But then he laughed as he realized what the creature wanted. Reaching out he scratched along the beast's jaw. "Well, hello there."
Mayhaps the dragons were not so different from the direwolves. Well, save being far more dangerous. Jon was going to have to write every detail down for Arya. He could have laughed at the ridiculousness of this moment. This was not the life he'd ever dreamed of. But he felt overwhelming relief. Already the Tyrells were calling their banners and fleet to send men and aid to the Wall. With every day he was closer to a true alliance. It tasted of optimism. A thing he had not thought to feel again just a year and a half ago.
Jon was smiling as Rhaegal made a pleased sounding rumble. "I think Rhaegal likes me." He paused as Rhaegal moved, bending one wing down to the ground. Moving his head away from where Jon had been scratching him. His smile fell, his throat feeling suddenly thick. The way Rhaegel had rolled his back made it look so very easy to climb up and mount him. His hand shook.
"Jon?" Daenerys spoke as she stepped closer to him.
But Rhaegal shifted eying Daenerys in what looked like frustration. A screeching croak of protest in his draconic discontent. It abruptly halted Daenerys' steps.
He looked into the dragon's eyes and he knew. But…he was the blood of the wolf. Jon pulled back and turned sharply, finding Daenerys shocked and confused expression. He opened his mouth but…there were no words that could come out of his mouth. A rush of air was all he could muster. And then he turned to stride for the walls and escape from whatever this was.
Standing there, waiting for him, arms crossed and unamused was Daisy. He'd never felt such relief at the sight of her. He could care less about the various advisors of Daenerys who'd come watch, the various servants and men at arms risking peeks at the dragons. His gaze locked onto his friend. Daisy could solve this.
Her voice rose as he reached them. "What the fuck Jon."
He reached her and…and what? The dragon had chosen him as a rider. And there was no undoing that singular moment. The meaning of it gaping and horrifying. "I…" His voice was a croak. He didn't want to know the answers to the thoughts in his head, nor the ones on Daisy's lips. So he just stood there, unknowing of what to do.
"What's wrong?" Daisy's voice had changed from exasperated to sharp as she instantly closed the space between them.
Jon still couldn't speak, though he felt like the air was robbed of his lungs at the grounding weight of Daisy's hand on him and her powers rushing through him. It made his bones feel like they were humming briefly.
"You survived your stupidity. I didn't see anything happen, what's going on?" Daisy's face was awash with concern. "Jon?"
Daenerys' voice was controlled but had an edge of sharpness as she spoke from behind him. "A question I would like the answer to as well. How is this possible?"
Leonette Tyrell spoke, and good gods Seth must have made a hell of a scene to get this many members of the court out here. "Your Grace if your dragon has chosen his Highness as its rider…his mother must have been of Valyrian blood."
"Is that even possible?" Garlan asked his wife, the confusion in his voice clear. "The only Valyrian House that Ned Stark could have gone near would have been the Velaryons and they had no daughters the right age. Beyond that, they were on opposite sides of the war. A Velaryon girl taken captive and dishonored could not have been hidden. Not even for Lord Stark."
Daisy's eyes widened in sudden understanding as her eyes locked onto Jon's gaze. She hadn't realized what had happened until that second. "Oh."
"Holiness?" Leonette's voice asked curiously.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from Daisy's face. Away from the understanding and knowledge there. It burned.
Into the awkward silence, Tyrion spoke, his voice careful in a way he rarely was when parading a piece of information he knew that others were not clever enough to figure out. "Your Grace, it's impossible, or nearly so, for Eddard Stark to have fathered a child on a woman with enough blood of the dragon for it to have mattered. But he wasn't the only Stark in the south at the time of Jon's birth."
Leonette made a sudden sharp sound as she inhaled too quick.
"Lord Rickard and Brandon were dead too soon to be his father," Ser Jorah spoke slowly. "And Benjan a boy still. That leaves only…"
Tyrion cleared his throat. "Lyanna Stark died of a fever, reportedly. If it was a birthin-"
"My father is Eddard Stark!" Jon's voice cracked as he snapped his head around to Tyrion. "He would not have lied. It…it must be a mistake." He nodded turning and looking at the dragons. Rhaegal made upset sounds and snapped at the white one, Viserion. If he walked over there right now Rhaegal wouldn't want him mounting him at all. It was a mistake. It had to be. He got exactly one step forward before Daisy had a hand on his arm stopping him.
"Don't you dare." Her voice was firm. "You're lucky they didn't eat you the first time."
His jaw tightened. "I have to do this."
"No, you don't." Daisy looked pained slightly, but her hand held on. "I promised to protect you. Don't be stupid. I'm not sure I can protect you fast enough from this far out."
He swallowed as his purpose settled within him. Jon knew he and Daisy understood one another well. That they had a great deal in common. And he saw that same understanding on her face, the genuine grief for him. He didn't need to fight her. "Would you do any different?"
She closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. His arm hummed under her hand. And then she let go of him. She spoke as her eyes opened again. "Your sister is going to kill me."
"Thank you." He gave her a nod, and then he marched towards the dragons. They wouldn't accept him. He was a Stark. His father would not have lied to him, to his wife, his King, his people. He would not. It wasn't possible.
As his long strides brought him back to the hillock the dragons were upon, Rhaegal took great shuddering steps towards him. And then lowered one wing again, coming to a halt as if asking to be mounted.
Jon felt sick, his blood felt like ice. Surely if his blood felt like ice it could not be blood of the dragon? But he had a purpose. He didn't hesitate, just moving to Rhaegal's side. His hand ran along the heated scales of Rhaegal's neck. He felt the connection. It felt as if there was a hook tethering them to one another. He could no more have stopped now than a rock could have stayed in the air.
And so he climbed onto dragon back. As he reached its spine, he swung a leg over, and then let himself settle between the great spines of its back. It felt real then, yet unreal at the same time. He was seated on a dragon. There was a singing rightness that made his stomach swoop in rebellion.
Rhaegal's massive, muscled form adjusted, bracing downwards. A second before he moved Jon realized what was going to happen. He grabbed onto green spines desperately. And then Rhaegal launched himself into the air.
/
Daenerys was cold as she stood in the temporary council room provided by the Tyrells. The voices of the various men washed over her. She didn't need to listen to know what they were saying. Seeing Jon on Rhaegal's back, she'd known. He was her brother's son. Her brother who had kidnapped and raped a Stark, Jon's mother. For all she'd been told, she'd clung to the stories of Ser Barristan and quietly hoped it'd been some terrible mistake. Could not the girl have wished to escape a marriage to her brutish drunk of a betrothed? Could her brother merely have meant to intercede on her behalf by preventing the marriage from going forward? Gallant, princely Rhaegar. A misunderstanding not known till all had ended in death? It was clear that it had been foolish of her.
Her eyes flicked to Lady Olenna who had just begun to speak. Absently she paid some attention to the woman's words.
"I suppose it makes sense. Certainly says what the best of the Kingsguard was doing in Dorne of all gods-forsaken places while their King and Prince died." The woman grimaced. "Foolish."
Tyrion's hand was palm up as he spoke. "Why guard a raped girl instead of their Prince though?"
"The Kingsguard does as the King commands." Olenna scoffed. "Their oaths mean nothing before that. Or do you not remember your nephew's Kingsguard beating Sansa Stark before the court? If Rhaegar told them to guard his raped and pregnant prisoner, then that is what they would have done."
There was a miserable lull in words.
"I find myself impressed," Olyvar spoke from where he'd been somewhat slouched in his seat, one hand cradling his jaw. "Lord Stark saved his nephew. He took his sister's child by rape and raised that boy in his home. A birth that killed the mother. Yet he claimed the boy his own son. Protected him from the King. That is…he committed treason for love of his family."
Olenna made a sound of disagreement. "Yes, very touching. But it leaves us all fucked if you forgive me for saying so. A bastard he may be, but he's Rhaegar's son."
"Jon would never make a claim for the throne." Tyrion protested, but it was weak.
Lord Varys spoke, voice hesitant. "But Sansa could. Even if she and her brother are honorable enough not to. Any descendent of his could raise the banners to lay claim. It would be worse than the Blackfyres.
"We're about to agree to a marriage between him and our Queen. Their marriage prevents that as a possibility. It is even more vital they are wed." Tyrion argued.
Dany looked out the window, their words swirling in her mind. She was not the last Targaryen. Her brother's child lived. His son by rape. It was not welcome news to her…nephew. Her advisors and Lords spoke of Blackfyres, and she thought of Bloodraven, Baratheon, and other bastard lines that had remained loyal. She thought of Jon's grey eyes which looked nearly purple in the sun. Gods, he had nearly purple eyes. His face was not that terribly different from Viserys'.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the door to the room swinging open. Dany turned and paused at the expression on Daisy's face. It was not a good expression, a thing her suddenly silent advisors had no doubt noticed. "Daisy, what else has happened?"
"Something I should have brought up a while ago." Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her eyes stayed on Dany. "Willas, Missandei, Ser Jorah, stay. The rest of you get out, now."
Dany raised a brow but gave a faint nod of assent at the suddenly alarmed advisors. "I take it you wish for me to remain as well?"
Every person in the room had certainly noted the lack of titles neither of them were using. Dany may be willing to allow the blunt demand, she doubted it was without reason. But she would ensure the point was made that it was familiarity not an utter lack of respect. A point Daisy either did not mind or had not noticed. Likely the first.
"Yeah, it's you I need to talk to." Daisy stepped aside, not bothering to glance at the suddenly stiff advisors trooping out. They'd been given an order by a god, and their Queen hadn't told them not to do as told.
Dany waited till the door closed with a resounding click. "Is this pertaining to Jon?"
"No, but I'll have him at least speaking and not just brooding by tomorrow. Possibly useful again by the end of the week." Daisy appeared distinctly concerned at the thought of Jon. But the quiet affection and concern vanished as quickly as it'd come. "But that's not what we needed to talk about."
She knew this day was somehow about to become even more exhausting. "What is the matter at hand then?"
"Your spymaster is a traitor," Daisy replied shortly.
Ser Jorah's hand automatically dropped to his sword hilt. "Lord Varys?"
"Yes." Daisy gave a sharp nod.
Dany took a deep breath, fury burning through her veins. She knew they were waiting for her to react. "You have evidence?"
"You're not an idiot." Daisy winced. "Sorry, what I mean is you're capable. You have the numbers, loyalty, name, and a tactical situation that means you should have been on the Iron Throne when I first met you. But here we are and you're still not on the iron throne. And then you were woefully unprepared for the situation in Westeros. So, either you were stupid, mad, whatever you want to call it, or you were being sabotaged somehow. Treason or incompetence, probably treason."
Dany forced herself to remain still. Her nails bit into her palm so hard she would be unsurprised if her palms were bleeding. "Explain." It was an order.
Daisy tipped her head and explained. "Prolonged war always kills more than are in a single city. If you flew your dragons into King's Landing and burned down the Red Keep the death toll of your conquest would have been far less than it will be by the time you are done with it now. Not possible now, but when you first landed it was. Whoever was fucking you over had to be important and your circle of advisors was way too small. Another problem really. So, Tyrion, Varys, Missandei, or possibly Olenna. It's not Olenna, I'd wager anything she told you to burn King's Landing to the ground."
"She did." Dany's jaw was tight as she admitted that.
Daisy nodded. "Thought so. Missandei is a freed slave from Essos who's never even been to Westeros before." She shrugged, gaze turning to Missandei. "And you basically breathe loyalty. I knew it wasn't you within two days at Dragonstone." Her eyes flicked back to Dany. "Which leaves Tyrion or Varys. Tyrion had a personal bias, was from what your Dothraki tell me drunk without ceasing until you put a stop to it, and owes Varys his life. And Varys is your spymaster, the one person who had no business not giving you a great deal more information. Tell me, in your long, long voyage that took you past the coasts of fucking Sothoryos, how much of the basic political situation of Westeros did he explain to you?"
The silence was damning in and of itself. Dany knew she'd do something unhelpful if she spoke a single word of the burning fury she felt right now. Because she could see the conclusions Daisy was drawing out.
"If I'm wrong, tell me this, he's arguing against the alliance with the North, nothing overt, plenty of small concerns, pleas for more time to think things through. I'd wager good money he's brought up Gendry and his possible risks at least once, likely more. He'll have approved of and tried to guide you toward every choice that delays the progress of your conquest. Because the longer you stall, the more momentum you lose, the less certain your victory becomes."
Willas spoke slowly, every word measured and chosen specifically. "You believe Lord Varys encouraged the introduction of his Highness to the dragons in order to have him killed then, Holiness?"
"Jon confirmed it was Varys' idea, and he brought it up to Daenerys and Jon away from the rest of you." Daisy's jaw ticked to the side, her eyes dark. "No doubt he had valid points. But no contingency plans for Jon's protection. What do you think would have happened if Jon died?"
And Daenerys knew exactly the answer. The same thing she'd have done if Missandei was harmed by an animal. "You would have killed my children." She refused to lose herself to the rage. Strangely the fury was leaving her mind startlingly clear. "There would be no hope of peace, likely the Dead would kill us all if you didn't stop them personally." Her jaw tightened. "You've believed him to be a traitor for some time. Why wait to bring this to me?"
"Because I don't know who he serves. I thought leaving him to show his hand would be more useful in the long run. But if he's desperate enough to attempt to have Jon killed, that doesn't matter any longer. At least not to me."
Willas once more spoke. "You may not know who he is working on behalf of, but you no doubt have some suspicions, Holiness?"
"He's survived at this too long for smoking him out to be of much use. And anything else would take too long. Whoever he's working for is from Essos, probably not further east than Volantes. Whoever it is doesn't want to invade Westeros, they're profiting on chaos here. And he really, really hates supernatural shit. Cause if he just needed Jon dead and his death blamed on your party, getting a dragon to eat him is not the easiest or like the most dependable option."
Daenerys loathed with every fiber of her being how well it all worked. A thousand reasonable, cautious pieces of advice that all served a singular purpose.
"Do you have evidence, a note, a letter, something that can stand as proof at trial?" Willas asked in that same careful tone.
A flash of something like actual rage flickered across Daisy's face, the air in the room turning unnaturally cold. "Look in the mouths of his 'little birds'."
"Lord Willas," Daenerys spoke with a measured tone, her soul snarling, "Seize Lord Varys."
