authorsnote: ITS HAPPENING
hmm, anywho, read below and do leave a review!
songrecs: the scientist - coldplay (the emily james version is also beaut)
"Are they close?"
The Throne Room, the imitation of her true seat was cold, empty, quiet. More would converge when she went to greet those joining her, but for now it was silent, for now it was just her, awaiting the arrival of her subjects, like any good Queen.
Queen, that was what she was, Queen across the water, and now come home, to conquer and be Queen here, and yet…
Yet, it hadn't been easy, there had been bloodshed and fire, but without laying waste to Westeros and all who lived in it, there was no easy victory. Even those coming to treat with her now had initially rebuffed her, but thankfully they'd come to fall in line, or so she assumed.
All of Westeros would fall to her eventually, it was her right, her destiny, and yet part of her longed-for home, the only home she'd ever known, not here, with the cold frigid air, the people who looked at her funny, the customs and traditions she didn't understand. Part of her longed for the Great Grass Sea, or the cobbled streets of Pentos, or the red door with the lemon tree, the one place she remembered feeling safe and free.
This may not have been home, but it was her destiny, her birth right, hers and that was more important.
"They are due to arrive within the hour your Grace" Greyworm said, and she offered a nod and nothing more, looking up at the throne she'd occupy when they arrived, made of slate and granite, not the true seat, not her seat.
But the Iron Throne would be hers soon, setbacks were just that, setbacks nothing permanent, soon she'd lay claim to what was hers, her right by fire and blood, and until then she would treat, gain allies, cultivate her following here.
And she'd start with the North.
"Make sure they are welcomed properly, they are guests" She paused then, glanced back at Varys, Tyrion and Missandei were overseeing preparations for their guest's arrival, and it stung they knew how to prepare better than she did. "But they are not yet our friends, so be cautious, and not too friendly"
They nodded, her true friends from across the sea and then she turned away again, she'd receive them here soon, as a Queen.
The one true Queen.
Dragonstone was impressive, he was loathe to admit.
A towering structure on the rock face, built in with high peaks, made from dark stone, jutting out impressively over the high rocks it stood on. It would be difficult to take by foot he noted, taking in every flaw, every little bit of the castle he could see, sieging it would be nigh impossible, especially as the one entrance seemed to be via bridge from the beach, without breaching that, assault would be suicide.
It wasn't the beauty Jon really noted, but he could see why it was considered impressive, why it had broken many men, how Stannis had kept it for over a year, living on rats and holding off invaders. The cliffs surrounding it offered shelter from the sea, and meant ships approaching would have little view of the island before landing, the choppy waters also made landing difficult. The Targaryen's had chosen wisely with this seat.
His ancestors he realised, almost with a flinch.
Like Sansa, like Arya, like all Northerners the South held little appeal to him, he was used to the snows of the North, of the coldness of Winterfell, the untamed rugged feel to the land. Even Sansa who'd once longed for the South now looked upon it with disdain, it wasn't where they belonged.
Where they belonged, as Starks they didn't, but what about him? Half Stark, half Targaryen, half North, half South, one foot in both, but not completely in either.
Now was not the time for a crisis of faith, though he felt he'd been having one since he'd known, since he'd been told the truth he in some part wished had been kept a secret.
"What an unpleasant place" Sansa said with a wrinkle of her nose, so no, she didn't feel any connection to it, he wished he didn't but there was something there, something thrumming to him as they landed at the beach.
He may be a Targaryen, but he was also a Stark, at least in part, the North was his home, and Winterfell held far more pull than the seat of the Targaryens.
"Too many stairs?" He teased, somehow getting out a joke, possibly in panic, he knew he needed to keep it together here, and his face betrayed nothing, he was good at that.
"Don't or I'll make you carry me" Sansa chided, but she accompanied it with a grin as the rowboat reached the shores, their actual boat stood further back (and another hidden far out to shore), though 5 row boats had accompanied them to the sand, him, and Sansa, though Arya had slunk away, 20 men accompanied them to the shore.
Sansa had told him they needed to show strength, and as he took her hand and helped her onto ground, and saw their greeting party, easily 20 strong itself, he knew she was right.
He had the head for strategy, for tactics, and some for politics, but she the head for diplomacy, but also manipulation and cunning.
Jon was the sword, Sansa the shield, he the mind at the table, she the scheming behind closed doors.
A perfect complement to one another.
He knew he couldn't have done this without her and offered her a smile as they stepped onto sand. His internal crisis could wait, would have to wait, they had a job to do here, and he wouldn't let Sansa down.
Jon took a quick note of the men they greeted, Dothraki, mercenaries, some Westerosi soldiers, all carrying arms. He was thankful for Longclaw at his hip, and Northern steel at his men's.
"The bastard of Winterfell" A voice rung out then, Tyrion Lannister, how he had moved in the world, though he supposed they both had, and Jon even managed a smile as he returned.
"The dwarf of Casterley Rock" He responded, and then they both smiled, before Jon stepped forward to shake hands. He hoped Tyrion's appointment would make things easier, especially as he eyed the Hand of the Queen badge at his lapel, but he practically heard Sansa chiding him not to let his guard down, not here, not ever.
"I believe we last saw each other at top of the Wall" Tyrion responded, grasping his hand in turn.
"You were pissing off the edge if I remember right" Jon was no dab hand, but he knew how to converse diplomatically, a skill he'd picked up at the Wall, "Picked up some scars along the way"
"It's been a long road" Tyrion said, face more serious then and Jon nodded, aye it had been, "But we're both still here" He paused then, and seemed to take in who was next to him though Jon wasn't fooled, Tyrion was too shrewd not to have noticed Sansa next to him.
"Or should I say all three of us are here" He said, and his smile seemed genuine, Jon resisted the urge to step closer to Sansa though, for that would give something away, and what had Sansa always impressed upon him?
'Don't ever give anything away'
She'd taught him much, he liked to think he had done the same for her, he guessed they would find out.
Seeing Jon in action was quite something, away from Winterfell, away from their men, put to the test, and she only kept her smile away through habit, through locking her walls back in place.
The walls she'd developed at Kings Landing, made of ice, hiding her true feelings, masking who she was, courtesies to fend off any question of her loyalty or anyone trying to do her harm, she hadn't thought she'd need them again, though she supposed in a sense they'd never truly gone away.
Except for with her family, and even then … maybe only Jon saw her without them.
But here they were firmly in place and would remain so until she stepped back into Winterfell, where the Starks would be waiting; that thought filled her with hope, though that was a dangerous thing to have.
"All three of us indeed" Sansa responded, she knew her place here, she would observe, step in where necessary but she would not give away her place by Jon's side, the less the enemy knew about them the better.
She should laugh at herself, what had Cersei said to Joffrey once? As she'd overheard, and had gotten the impression it had been said many times before?
'Anyone who isn't us is the enemy'
For once she sympathised with Cersei, what a horror.
"May I introduce my sister" Jon piped up then, and she almost nudged him with a smile, he was good at this, even in the formality she knew he hated, "Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell"
"My Lord" She bowed her head, as was appropriate for the Hand of the Queen, something she'd taken in but took in stride, as was necessary.
"The Lady of Winterfell, it has a nice ring to it" Tyrion said, and she offered a smile, not a warm one, or a kind one, but a smile.
"So does Hand of the Queen" She said with a nod to his badge, and his smile was realer, but she wasn't fooled, she'd gotten good at this, deception, and subterfuge, he'd always been good, "Depending on the Queen I suppose" She added, there was some bite to her politics after all.
"Hmm, I'm Tyrion Lannister" He said then, louder, glancing over her shoulder to Ser Davos who stood behind them, evidently to move the conversation along.
"Davos Seaworth" Jon's Hand said as he stepped forwards, and again they shook hands.
"Ahh, the Onion Knight" Lord Tyrion said, and Sansa smiled, she was watching everything, as was her place here. "We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of Blackwater Bay"
"Unluckily for me" Ser Davos said in good nature, and Sansa bit her tongue, she wouldn't comment on what had happened in Kings Landing, not yet at least, as much as she wanted to.
Petyr had taught her that, sometimes she may want to say something, feel an urge like no other, it didn't mean she should act on it;
'No matter how tempting you don't do what you want, but what makes you win'
Part of her wanted to hate the lessons he had given her, that they were branded on her brain, the other part wanted to keep them close, remember them forever, if it ensured her families, if it ensured hers and Jon's safety.
"Thank you for having us" Sansa said before anyone else could speak, keen to have their introduction take precedence, "We apologise for the delay, the journey from the North is long" She paused then, smiled, though it like everything in her words was faked, "It is good to see you all, and you again my Lord" She said with a nod to Tyrion.
"The last time we saw one another was at Joffrey's wedding was it not?" He asked then, but he knew of course, "A miserable affair" Better, Tyrion was a schemer yes, but had some good to him, like Jon, maybe like her.
"It had its moments" She quipped back, and his smile was true then and hers was for a flash too.
"Though, apologies for leaving like that" She continued, though she didn't mean it, it was the right thing to say.
"Yes, it was difficult to explain" Tyrion said with a nod, there he'd said the right thing to, the push and pull was the game, once before when she'd been what Tyrion wouldn't call her; his wife, she'd been a pawn, now she was a player.
She did shrug though, and the respect in her eyes for Tyrion was real, "We both survived"
And they had indeed.
Tyrion turned then, and she could see her expression mirrored in his, even as he had to move it along, looked at the woman stood by his side, "Missandei is the Queens most trusted advisor" The woman nodded and smiled then and Sansa returned it, neither held true warmth.
"Welcome to Dragonstone" Missandei said, her tone rigid, her words rehearsed, "Our Queen knows this is a long journey, she appreciates the efforts you've made on her behalf" A pause, something else was coming, "If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons"
She noted Jon paused then, looked around, an eyebrow raised, this wasn't unexpected but still unwelcome, though he took it in stride, even smiled, one as false as hers, she felt proud, "Of course"
But Sansa paused herself, as the Dothraki stepped forward to rid them of them, "Of course, though King Jon will keep his, as is the right of any monarch in foreign lands" She said quickly, crisply, confidence was half of the fight, and she then offered a tight smile, like the one Missandei had given her, two could play that game, "The same as Ser Davos, as his hand, the men will of course hand theirs over"
It was their turn to pause then, and she caught an almost imperceptible nod from Tyrion, and so when the Dothraki took weapons, and their rowboats, they didn't take Jon's, nor Ser Davos', nor the dagger strapped to her thigh, not that she'd wanted it…
'Take this' Arya insisted as Dragonstone came into view, a dagger in hand, a pretty one, the hilt grey and black, the point sharp enough to slice through almost anything by the looks.
'Why I don't need that' Sansa said, she was no fighter, that was not where her value lay.
'Just in case' Arya said, and then as Sansa didn't move sighed and pressed it into her hand.
'I don't know how to use it' Sansa admitted, she'd never had cause to, for her a dagger had been the least effective of weapons open to her.
'Stick them with the pointy end'
And she would, if necessary.
With a nod they then made their way forwards, Ser Davos fell into step with Missandei, but Sansa remained walking with Jon, she didn't intend to leave his side, not here, not in foreign lands, with people they would call enemy.
'Everyone who isn't us is an enemy'
It still rung true.
sooo thoughts?
little chapter but so much going on, and omg wait until next time ... they will meet
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speak soon