Summary:
I got to thinking which in my case is never good but I got to thinking...what if Jon was a total badass when he went to Dragonstone? What if he had his own titles that rivaled Daenerys and no attraction to her?
This was the result of my reading too many Jon Snow-centric fics but none of them focused on him NOT bending the knee and it kinda rankled me a bit.
This is the result lmao :))
Notes:
Look...I wrote this yesterday and fixed some grammar mistakes but for the most part, I didn't bother editing it and I don't wanna.
I took lines directly from the script and worked around it. Changed it up and kinda threw canon in front of a moving bus :)
Don't read too much into this
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Work Text:
"The bastard of Winterfell."
Jon smirked at the self-satisfied look on Tyrion's face. It seems that being the hand of the queen was a huge ego boost. The imp was as blunt as ever, even when he was wrong. Not that he knew it, of course.
"The dwarf of Casterly Rock," Jon replied snarkily.
"I believe we last saw each other atop the Wall."
Laughing, Jon shook his head. The wall wasn't generally something he liked to remember, but that was a sight he was hard-pressed to forget.
"You were pissing off the edge, if I remember right."
Tyrion lifted his mouth in a half-smile before nodding toward Jon's face. "Picked up some scars along the road," he commented.
"It's been a long road, but we're both still here," Jon replied. It was more than some scars, he thought. Trauma, death, rebirth—all left scars on their own whether or not they left physical memories.
"I'm Tyrion Lannister."
"Davos Seaworth."
"Ah, the Onion Knight."
"We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of Blackwater Bay."
"Unluckily for me."
Tyrion gestured to the woman standing beside him, and Jon let his eyes roam over her. She was foreign—that much he could tell by her clothing—but she was beautiful and held herself with confidence that Tyrion still seemed to lack.
"Missandei is the queen's most trusted advisor." Tyrion introduced her, and Jon heard a note of jealousy in his words. Whoever this girl was to the queen was a spot that Tyrion seemed to covet, but it spoke words to Jon. Her most trusted advisor wasn't a Westeroi, so he had to wonder what it was she could possibly advise the dragon queen on.
"Welcome to Dragonstone," she said. For all that her words were welcoming, the tone of her voice was not. She was soft-spoken, but her tone carried an edge to it. She didn't trust them, and Jon didn't fault her for that; trust is hard to come by these days. No, he valued those who were careful; they had a better chance of keeping their heads on their shoulders.
"Our queen knows it is a long journey. She appreciates the efforts you have made on her behalf. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons."
Jon paused and looked between Missandei and Tyrion. His gaze shifted over to the Dothraki, who tensed when he didn't immediately comply before he turned his gaze toward Tormund. The look on Tormund's face promised a swift death if they tried to remove his weapons from his person, and guessing by the grumbles of his entourage, they felt the same way. Jon had no need or want to fight, but this wasn't ideal, and he wasn't going to do anything of the sort. He was suddenly very glad that he didn't bring Arya.
"For what reason?"
Missandei looked confused for a moment before she gathered her wits. It was as if she wasn't expecting to be questioned, and in Jon's mind, that didn't bode very well.
"Our queen values her life; it is a simple precaution," she explained.
Jon hummed and looked at her with narrowed eyes. They offer no bread and salt, and while he may be willing to excuse the ignorance of Missandei, Tyrion knows the laws and customs of their land. After his brother's deaths, Jon wasn't willing to part with the very things that were meant to protect him, and he wasn't willing to place the lives of his love and his people at risk either. Now he was very, very glad he didn't bring Arya or Sansa, for that matter.
"I apologize, Missandei, Lord Tyrion, but no."
"We are here as envoys, and I value my protection just as much as her grace. Not to mention, I am a king in unfamiliar territory, and while I can excuse you for your ignorance of our laws and customs, you have not offered us guest rights, nor have you offered bread and salt, which would effectively make us your prisoners. That, I'm sure you can understand, is unacceptable considering my family history."
At the mention of his family, Tyrion winced and ignored the look Missandei sent him. Jon wanted to sigh in exasperation. Leave it to the imp to not properly explain the history of the North. For all that he was intelligent, he often forgot that not everyone thinks to know their potential allies or enemies the same way he does. He expects them to have the same knowledge as he does; it's going to get his queen killed one of these days. Dragons or not.
Missandei gave a very short nod, and Jon could tell she was not happy with how things turned out, which made him wonder if it was deliberate. He didn't stop to think about intimidation tactics, and if this were one...it wasn't very good.
"Very well."
Jon exchanged another quick glance with Ser Davos and Tormund before following Missandei and Tyrion up the castle stairs. He had a feeling that this visit was going to be very interesting, and he wasn't sure if it was going to be good or bad.
"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains."
The hall was silent for a long moment as Jon took in her titles. They were numerous, and he briefly wondered how she would react to his own. This, he could tell was an intimidation tactic, and had Jon stayed a bastard rather than a king, it would have been a very good one.
Ser Davos stepped up, clearing his throat. "I present to you, Jon Stark of House Stark, King of the North and the Vale of Arryn, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, Leader of the Free Folk, 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, the Resurrected, the White Wolf, King of Winter, and Beyond the Wall."
If the silence that followed Daenerys's titles was oppressive, the silence that followed Jon's felt as if he were sinking to the bottom of the sea. Based on the looks of Missandei, Tyrion, and her grace, they weren't expecting it. Jon had a feeling they didn't take being surprised very well.
After a long moment, Daenerys finally spoke, and Jon had to take a moment to catch his breath. Her voice was quiet, but it carried quite well across the throne room. It was strong but melodic, and he knew that whenever she gave speeches, she captivated. With a voice like that, it would be hard not to.
"Your titles are impressive," she said.
"Thank you, your grace," Jon tilted his head in acknowledgment. "I'd like to introduce you to Ser Davos Seaworth, hand of the King, and Tormund Giantsbane, king of the free folk."
"Forgive me," Tyrion interrupted with an apologetic look in Jon's direction. "How can you be king if you took your vows?"
Jon inhaled sharply at the question. He should have counted on someone asking that question, and the memory of his brother's will be read aloud to him flashed before his eyes. Releasing his breath slowly, he answered. "Before my brother Robb was murdered at the hands of the Freys, he released me from my vows and named me his heir."
"Yes," Tyrion murmured as he squirmed in place, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. "I remember the tragedy that befell your family. You have my sincerest condolences, your grace."
Jon nodded his head but said no more. He did not wish to talk about Robb, Rickon, or any other family member in front of his present company. More so, he did not want to think about their deaths.
"You're both kings?" Missandei asked, confused, as her gaze slid between Jon and Tormund.
Jon smiled and shrugged. "My love doesn't like titles, but he was chosen by his people, so he has to deal with it," he replied cheekily. He was more than happy to ignore Tormund's grumbles from behind him.
"I never did receive a formal education," Daenerys said, her voice ringing, putting the attention back on her. "But I could have sworn I read the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?"
As much as he wanted to sigh, Jon held in his annoyance as best he could. It mattered not that she didn't receive a formal education, but for someone who came to conquer, she didn't know a lot about the people. Jon had to wonder if it was done on purpose or if she truly didn't think it was important enough compared to her claim. He thought back to Tyrion as they met on the steps of the castle. Jon didn't know why he hadn't properly informed her.
"I wasn't there, Your Grace," he replied.
"No, of course not," Daenerys hummed lightly. "But still, an oath is an oath. And perpetuity means...what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?"
"Forever."
"Forever." She reiterated.
"So I assume, my lord," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You're here to bend the knee."
"I am not."
Jon watched as her eyes hardened, her violet eyes burning a hole in his head. She was angry, he noticed, seemingly very quick to anger. A dragon's temper, it seemed and it set Jon on edge.
"Oh? So you traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"
Jon merely stared at her for a long moment in shock. Based on the cringe and minor flinch that Tyrion made, Jon was once again faced with the reality that she had no current information on the political tide of the North.
"Your father burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive, and he tried to burn King's Landing to the ground," Jon stated. His hands balled into fists before a moment before he relaxed his hands. "Your brother Rhaegar is not innocent of crimes either with his kidnapping of my aunt. All that was left of my family were bones, which my father had to carry back to Winterfell himself. House Targaryen broke faith with House Stark, and we have no interest in renewing it if it means we are forced to kneel once more."
At the end of his speech, he could see that his words had a profound effect on Daenerys, as she was faced with the horrors that her family visited upon his own, but he wasn't naive enough to assume that it would stop her quest to bring the North to heel. In fact, he had an inkling that she would declare herself innocent of her family's actions, and that is not to say she wasn't. Jon knew an innocent when he saw one, but it did not erase the fact that he would not bend the knee.
"I apologize on behalf of my father and brother," she said sincerely. "I ask for your forgiveness for their crimes against your family, and I ask you not to judge me or my house by their sins. Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms have ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee, and I will name you Warden of the North. Together—"
"You're right," Jon said, cutting her off. He ignored the looks of anger from the queen and her entourage, but he had no need for the pretty words that would mean nothing in the end. "You're not guilty of your father's crimes, and I have already forgiven you, but just as you are not beholden to your ancestors, I am not beholden to mine. I am more than willing to remain allies, and I am more than willing to back your claim to the Iron Throne as long as the North keeps its independence along with the Vale of Arryn."
"You tread a fine line, Jon Stark," she said through gritted teeth.
"It's your grace," Jon huffed, annoyed at the continued disrespect. "And I am very much aware of that fact, your grace."
"You do realize that you are now in open rebellion?" Tyrion interjected.
"I'm sorry, Lord Tyrion, but your grace has not been crowned Queen of Westeros yet, and even then, it would matter little," Ser Davos chimed in. "Ever since the late Eddard Stark was unjustly murdered at the hands of Cersei and Joffrey Lannister, the North has been in open rebellion against the crown. Whether it be a Lannister or a Targaryen, the North and the Vale by association will remain independent."
Daenerys took a deep breath before she addressed Jon once more.
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I need your help, and you need ours."
Jon watched as Daenerys tilted her head in amusement before she asked whether he noticed her dragons, her Dothraki, and her unsullied.
"They're very hard to miss your grace."
"Then why do you believe I need your help?" She asked, amused.
"Let's be honest here, your grace," Jon said. "You may have been born here on Dragonstone, but you are a foreign queen. You do not have knowledge of most houses here; you do not know our customs and laws, and you have arrived here with three dragons and a foreign army. You are Aegon the Conqueror reborn, but unfortunately for you, you have the memory of your father hanging above your head, and no one will take you coming into Westeros and forcing anyone to kneel, particularly the North."
"She is the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms," Tyrion rebutted as Daenerys tightened her fists on the arms of her throne. Jon had pissed her off by bringing up Aerys again, but he refused to feel guilt for telling the truth.
"We have never disputed that fact, Lord Tyrion," Ser Davos replied. "However," he said, holding a hand up to prevent Tyrion from speaking. "That does not mean the North wants to be part of the seven kingdoms, but nonetheless, if her grace wants to become queen, forcing the North to kneel will not bring her allies," he said bluntly.
"The North was faithful to the Targaryens during the dance of the dragons, and after they lost the throne due to the right of conquest and blood, the North remained faithful to the Baratheons, who, might I remind you, won it fair and square. However, that faithfulness brought nothing but destruction to the North, resulting in the deaths of Rickard, Brandon, Lyanna, Eddard, Robb, Catelyn, and Rickon Stark. After winning their home back from the Boltons, and Freys—which might I add—were both wiped out by his grace and Princess Arya—the North isn't keen on giving up their hard-won freedom. To the rest of the kingdom, they're a beacon of strength and perseverance. In short, your grace." Ser Davos looked at Daenerys with a slight reproach in his eyes. "The kingdom itself will support the North's bid for independence on principle alone."
Jon tried as he might failed to keep a smile off his face at the way Ser Davos laid out in simple terms why Daenerys' needed the North's support.
Lord Tyrion cleared his throat, looking anxiously between Jon and Daenerys as if he were expecting a fight to break out in the throne room.
"You have laid out why you believe her grace needs your help. Why do you need hers?" He asked hoarsely.
Turning around, Jon motioned to Tormund, and he dragged along a steel metal crate toward the center of the room.
"8,000 years ago, my ancestors and the children of the forest defeated the others," Jon said, ignoring the cries of shock as the crate began to move and rattle on its own. "The wall was originally built by Bran the builder, the man from whom House Stark derives, to keep them out. It was a defensive measure to protect all of Westeros, but as of right now, the wall is close to falling and the others have returned."
Tormund broke the chains keeping the crate closed and kicked open the lid. Jon watched as Daenerys slowly rose from her seat as the room stood on guard in anticipation. After a few seconds, a wight jumped out of the crate and made a dash toward Daenerys before it was cut down by one of her Dothraki guards. They cried out in surprise when the wight continued to move. The only people not worried about the creature were Jon and his entourage, clearly having already dealt with their fair share. Jon walked to the half-wight as it continued to writhe on the ground. Its icy blue eyes locked on Daenerys.
"They can be killed with three things. Fire, dragons glass, and Valyrian steel." Jon unsheathed his blade, cut the wight's head from the rest of its body, and watched it finally die, becoming motionless on the stone floor.
Jon looked up at Daenerys and met her terrified gaze with his own steely gaze.
"The leader of the others has around 100,000 of these wights, and if the North falls, it will add an extra 80,000 to his army. He will then spread across Westeros, bringing only death and destruction if we don't stop him."
Daenerys swallowed around the lump in her throat as she looked back at the lifeless wight.
"You need my dragons," she stated.
"Aye," Jon agreed. "Your dragons and I ask you to let us mine the dragonglass in the caves below Dragonstone."
Jon watched as Daenerys gathered her wits about her, and she sat back on her throne. It was a long moment before she removed her gaze from the wight and met Jon's watchful eyes.
"You ask for my dragons, you ask for my armies, you ask for my dragonglass, but you will not bend the knee."
Sighing, Jon nodded. "Aye. You have my reasonings, your grace, for both."
"Bend the knee, and I will give you all three."
"I cannot do that, your grace," Jon refuted, his jaw tightening.
"You will let your people die?"
Jon glared at Tyrion and held in his satisfaction at seeing the imp flinch.
"I came here because I don't want my people to die, but the question you should be asking is whether your queen will force my people, knowing our history, to kneel before she helps."
Daenerys hissed at Jon's words, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret them. It was an honest question, and if she truly were the breaker of chains, she'd want to break the chains her family forced on the North.
"I have freed countless people; I'd never force anyone to kneel at my feet, but the North is part of the seven kingdoms and in open rebellion. You ask too much of me."
Jon narrowed his eyes and shifted his glare to Daenerys. "For all that you have freed slaves and broken chains, it means nothing if you want to re-shackle the North because, know this, your grace," he sneered at her, completely and utterly fed up. "If you try and force the North to kneel to the crown, you will become the very thing you fought against."
Jon turned around and began to walk out of the throne room. Sansa had told him that it was pointless for him to come. She told him that the dragon queen would want him to kneel, and while Jon had the same fear, he believed that seeing the wight would have been enough.
"I haven't given you permission to leave!"
Jon turned briefly but could only scoff in her direction.
"No offense, your grace. I am a king. I don't need your permission."