A/N: Longclaw: Wow, the reception for the last chapter blew us away!
The tags have officially changed for this story. We're going for DarkJon and DarkDany for the most part, though both are and will remain the heroes of GoT as they should be. I'm kinda an optimist and BRuh is as well for the most part, so it'll be fun writing it from a darker perspective.
BRuh4: Kinda another small one in terms of events, yet there's a lot of important moments. We're finally reaching that stretch of moments Longclaw and I had decided we'd have even before the first word was typed. So, you've got that to look forward to.
Hope you enjoy it.
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Chapter 15: Khaleesi
Smoke wreathed King's Landing. Wafting from the smoldering pile of ruins where the Sept of Baelor had once been, even weeks after the explosion of wildfire that immolated it and the entirety of the people within. Including the High Sparrow, the Faith Militant, Queen Margaery, Kevan Lannister, and all of House Tyrell. Frankly, Jaime had seen worse destruction in his life.
But not worse than what it represented. Door shutting behind him by the great, towering form of what used to be Gregor Clegane, he felt his entire body trembling. Staring at the form of his sister, clad in a dress of all black and sipping wine quietly, crown on her head. "Please… tell me this wasn't your doing. That it was Qyburn, or Littlefinger… or some insane contingency by those fanatics gone wrong." Jaime didn't recognize this Cersei, the woman he loved replaced with someone… hard.
Turning, Cersei only wore a sublime smirk. "Oh, my dear brother. We don't lie to each other." She stepped close to him, hands wrapping around his waist - letting her face bury itself in the crook of his neck. Jaime didn't stop her. "Our enemies in this wretched city are no more. We have won."
"And Tommen?" Jaime croaked, trying to hide the things she was doing to him.
Cersei sighed, a flicker of pain crossing her face before she smothered it. "He… was always too weak. Too easily manipulated to see what had to be done for our family."
He gaped at her. "Tommen was our son… and now you speak of him as but an object…"
"Don't you dare suggest I didn't love our children!" Cersei hissed. "Their fate was predetermined long before I even married Robert." She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest. "The past is the past, and we must prepare for the future."
"And the thousands that died in the Sept of Baelor? Do you plan to sweep them under a rug?"
"You do remember what you said, sweet brother. 'Fuck everyone that isn't us?'" Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short. He had said that. "We hold the capitol, that is the most important part. Even with your… defeat in the Riverlands…"
"Father should have wiped out Stannis immediately after Blackwater. He had the Redwyne fleet and could have hit Dragonstone - we're paying for his focus on the North and the Riverlands. Both hate us even more now, and are led by someone strong."
Cersei snorted. "Stannis was wounded in the far north doing gods' knows what. He's a walking joke with a mishmash of different factions backing him."
Jaime shook his head. "Not Stannis… the son of Ned Stark... His bastard. I know he is a bastard, but I haven't seen anything like it. He fights like a crazed wolf, like a winter's gale. The men already call him "Wrath of the North" for how he defeated each of his family's enemies in quick succession: the Boltons, us, and now Walder Frey." He grabbed a glass of wine, draining it. "Even if we kill Stannis, they'll rally behind the bastard Jon Snow. Probably be more unified than ever as a result."
A merry laugh left Cersei's lips - the Queen looking giddy. "My dear Jaime, you are forgetting our secret weapon." She delighted in his confusion. "Qyburn's little birds tell us that Daenerys Targaryen is planning to sail from Slaver's Bay to take her throne back."
"She's been said to do that for years. I don't see how…"
Raising her palm, Cersei cut him off. "Her three dragons are grown and ready to fight. They burned an entire fighting pit of her enemies. I have no doubt that she will come with all due haste to take the Iron Throne for herself."
Imagining the Targaryen madness equipped with dragons all over again filled Jaime with dread. "If that's true, then why are you celebrating it?"
"Because, Jaime, the dragon whore is weak as well. Freeing the slaves of Meereen rather than sailing here with her Unsullied…" She spat in disrespect. "She'll avoid this city in order to spare the rabble outside, bringing her in conflict with Stannis." Clapping her hands, she looked out over the city. Basking in her new domain like a lioness over the grasslands. "Whichever survives the onslaught shall be weak. Easy pickings for us and our forces nestled behind the walls of this city. The Stag, the Wolf, and the Dragon will fall, and the pride of Lions will rule."
Staring at his sister - the woman he loved - Jaime hoped her strategy would come together. For he remembered another King from his past fond of such great bombasity. The same ruthless zeal set in his gaze.
Having known his sister was tended to many hours ago, Jon let himself in to her makeshift room. Thankfully, she wasn't in a state of undress. Though he half expected her to be startled at his sudden presence. It was him who was surprised when she had no reaction at all. Arya sat at a table by a roaring fireplace. Her eyes settled on him, with raised eyebrows, "Had you intended on knocking?"
"I decided against it," Jon replied, entering fully into her space.
She motioned to a chair across from her, "Have a seat."
"Aye," Jon huffed, plopping down in the wooden chair. "I'd like to sit down."
"I'd bet you do need a rest," Arya said, with a half-smile.
Her brother nodded, with a heavy exhale, "Aye, I wish I could rest."
"You having been sleeping?"
"Not much."
"Me neither," Arya shrugged.
"I suppose we're alike in that way," Jon smirked. Looking his sister over, "Probably not the only way."
"I've missed you, Jon."
Jon smiled, "You too."
Arya winced then, rolling her shoulder around, "Hurts."
"How are you holding up?"
"Some old woman stitched me up this morning, then I've been sitting here ever since," Arya explained. "The old bag told me I shouldn't be sparring or anything for awhile, unless I want to reopen the wound."
"I know that angers you, but it's for the best," Jon told her. Before she could retort, he kept speaking, "Speaking of what's best… I think it's best if you return home."
Frowning, Arya sat forward abruptly, "What?"
"It's not safe for you with me."
"I can take care of myself," Arya scowled.
"Can you?" Jon said, pointing at her shoulder.
"I'm not a little girl anymore," she retorted, glaring at him.
"No, but you are my little sister, and you will do as I say," Jon told her, with an air of finality.
Slowly, Arya raised her chin, "Since you're this big lord now, you think you can tell me what to do?"
"That's not what this is about, this is about your safety," Jon explained, gesturing at her. "I can't allow you to be harmed, I'll never forgive myself."
Arya seemed to calm down, expression softening at her brother's affection… but she was still not happy about this. "A lot has changed since you last saw me, Jon. I'm not defenseless."
"I realize that," Jon sighed, shaking his head. "You got into the Twins, all by yourself. I'm not saying you're not resourceful. It'd just be safer for you to be in Winterfell, where you can be protected. Don't you want to see Sansa and Rickon?"
Arya avoided her brother's gaze, eyes wandering to the fire, "I didn't say that. I've just got other things to do."
"Other things? What's more important than family?"
"Nothing," Arya snapped, returning her gaze to him. "That's the whole point, our enemies aren't back at home."
"That's why I'm going to fight them, but that's not for you."
She hit her fist on the table, "I'm not a lady! I'm not going to return home and sit and wait will you go and fight. I won't. I can't."
"You have to. You must. You can't be running around like this. For my peace of mind at the very least," Jon grimaced. The thought of his dear sister being maimed crossed his mind.
Arya upturned her nose, "I won't go. I'm staying with you."
"To do what? Fight by my side? Arya, I'm going to war. I can't allow you to be put in danger," Jon said, considering this common sense.
She simmered. "I can't believe you."
"It's not like I don't want to see you, I just saw you again after all this time. I'm overjoyed to see you. I want you to be safe, okay? You'll be safe in our bannermen in the North. Not on a battlefield with me, I'm going into enemy territory and I won't be able to protect you. I am the head of our house now, and this is what I'm commanding. You are going home."
"You can't make me, Jon."
"I will if I have to, Arya," Jon told her. "I can. If you won't go willingly."
Arya leaned back, confused as to who she was really looking at. She wondered if her eyes deceived her. This was the last thing she'd expected to hear from her brother. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."
At her words, Jon got up and went over to her side, gingerly wrapping his arms around her. Careful of her injury. Though beside herself with irritation, Arya sighed and welcomed the embrace. "I told you, I am." He kissed her brow. "I'd just rather be sad without you then be happy and have you die with me."
The Dothraki took her without a second thought. A maiden as beautiful as she, they'd be stupid not to. Many of the bloodriders pined after her, some even went as far to touch her. The Khal even spoke of how he would take her that night. It was then that Daenerys herself known, Khal Drogo's Khalessi. After that no one would come near her, it wasn't allowed. With her Khal being dead, she belonged with the other widowed Khals in Vaes Dothrak, the Dosh Khaleen. Just so happened that this pack of Dothraki was headed there anyway.
The trip there was so bad, she was given a horse and a tent. Though the journey was long. After more days than she knew, they reached Vaes Dothrak. Her eyes glued to the massive horse statues above her as the entered. If not for the huge unknown hanging over her head, she might be amazed. Nevertheless, this second time visit wasn't nearly as exciting as the first. All those years ago, the Dosh Khaleen named her child The Stallion Who Mounts the World. Her soul ached then, a part of her wishing she could've lived that life with her child and Drogo. But that was so long ago, and she had much bigger plans in mind now.
She was led inside the village, immediately taken inside a hut. Where the rest of the widows waited for her.
Daenerys considered all the gray older women, from their meger interactions, these women had been here for many years. This was to be the life of a Khalessi once their Khal died. All of them lived here, never allowed to leave. If things had turned out differently, she may have been taken here. A mediocre existence, she decided.
She wouldn't allow this to become her. Old and gray, just existing, with nothing to prove, nothing to give. But according to one of the other Khaleesi, it would be this, or death. Dany stifled a chuckle, death sounded better to her then what these women endured.
All the Khals were supposed to decide her fate that night.
They gathered in the Temple Dosh of the Khaleen near the entrance to the city, dimly lit aside from four huge braizers that illuminated the room. Dany stood on a slightly elevated center stage, numerous sets of malice filled eyes stared her down. Though she appeared unfazed. The fifteen of them continued to stare her down, hoping for her to cower. They'd be sorely disappointed.
Some of the Khals sat down, others stood, one of them finally spoke up, "Well, Drogo sure had him a pretty one." The group of them laughed loudly, Dany didn't flinch.
Then a Khal rose, moving closer to her, "I'd sure like a few minutes with her in my bed."
"Maybe we should all have some time with her," another said, many grumbles of agreement followed.
"The wise masters of Yunkai want her, they'd give us thousands of horses in exchange."
Khal Moro, the one who first captured Dany, spoke then, crossing his arms, "Fuck the Masters, I'll take their horses for myself."
"I think I should have a say," Dany said, in perfect Dothraki, surprising the Khals.
Moro scoffed, "We don't give a fuck what you want. You aren't Dosh Khaleen, you have no say here."
"I have all the say I want, I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," Dany cocked her head to the side. "And you are small men, you great Khals. None of you are fit to lead the Dothraki. But I am. So I think I will."
The pack of burst into laughter, "You crazy cunt," Moro laughed, slapping his leg. "You think we'd serve you. No." He rose from his seat then, "No here's what I think. No Dosh Khaleen for you. We'll take turns fucking you until your bloody, then our Bloodriders will have a turn. After that maybe my horse will fuck you. What a dumb cunt, do you really think we'd ever serve you?"
Dany smirked, "No, you're not going to serve."
Not a second later, sharp shrieks filled the air, diving into the room, filling it. The shrieks continued until they got louder, and louder. All the Khals looked at each other, frowning, then back to Dany. A heavy breeze flew through the thin walls of the hut, nearly toppling it, blowing Dany's hair. The ground shook, rumbling under their feet, forcing all the Khals to rise. Many ran to the exit, but the door was barred from the other side. The rumbling stopped, only the sound the Khal's fists hitting the door filled the air. Then low hisses fluttered through the thatch walls, steam seeming in. From all sides, they were surrounded.
"What the fuck is going on?" Khal Moro said, retreating from the walls. Then glancing at Dany, "What is happening?"
"I told you, you're not going to serve. The only else left for you is to die."
Then in a flash, the room seemingly exploded. White hot fire flying through the walls, torching the insides. Hot plumes hit the Khals, roasting most of them to bone immediately. The fire kept coming until the hut collapsed in on itself.
Outside, a crowd gathered - a massive throng of people pouring out from across the entire sacred city - having heard the shrieks from all around. Coming to find three dragons standing over the burning remains the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. The horrifying sight sent many trembling in fear.
Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal lifted their heads to the sky and wailed. Moments later, a form stepped out from the flames, moving out to stand where the door used to be.
Daenerys Targaryen, the unburnt, walked, largely unaffected by the flames, aside from her clothes that been burned off. She stood, naked, before droves of Dothraki, for all of them to see. The dragons roared at the sight of their mother. As if taking at as a command, all the Dothraki fell to their faces in submission.
A true Khalessi once more, Dany smirked to herself at the sight of the masses bow to her.
It brought a true sense of accomplishment, a joy she hadn't felt in a while.
"Khaleesi," the older man said, nearly whispering. He'd uttered the word many times, it'd hit her ear the same way oftentimes. With reverence, only waiting to hear the next command. Though when he said it now, it was different. This time it's more of a plea, a desperate plea. He'd came back, yet again. Even though she'd tried to keep him away, twice now. Even after all that, he'd followed her all the way to Vaes Dothrak.
He just wouldn't stay away.
Her old bear.
They stood on a hill, Vaes Dothrak just laying in the distance. All the Dothraki getting ready to move out, the smoke from the fire billowing into the sky. She'd seen him and Daario just before she went into the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. They had blocked the door for her.
Daenerys and her Bear stood a bit apart, his shift shuffled near to her, but then stopped. "I've sent you away, two times now," she said, holding up two fingers. "For your betrayal, and you've returned twice, why is that?"
"I've only wanted to serve you," Jorah replied.
"You've said that, many times," Dany smirked, making him half-smile. They were silent for a few moments, and then she said, "I can't take you back, and I can't seem to send you away." Taking a few steps forward, only for him retreat back.
Jorah shook his head, holding his hands up, "You must send me away." Her face contorted in confusion, then she watched as he turned up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing the greyscale he'd been hiding. The darkness a stark difference from the rest of his skin, appearing rather repulsive.
A shuddering breath left Dany's lips, "Is there a cure?"
"I don't know."
"Is it going to spread? How long does it take?"
"I'm not sure," Jorah pursed his lips, rolling the sleeve back down. "Though I know what happens when it gets far enough. I won't let himself get that far, I'll end it far before that."
"Ser Jorah, I'm so sorry," Dany whispered, her eyes filling with tears, the sudden emotion surprising her. Thought of one of the oldest friend's dying a horrible death, no matter what he's done, wasn't pleasant. It hurt more than she expected.
"Please, Khalessi, don't be," Jorah said. He paused, looking away from her for a moment, "Tyrion Lannister was right... I do love you. I always will. But I have to go, I can't stay, not like this. Even if you would have me. I'm not fit to serve, which I cannot allow. It hurts… to know the only thing I want to do… I can't."
"You can-"
"I can't, Khalessi," Jorah said, cutting in. "It's okay." He backed up, "This is goodbye, Khalessi." With that, he started down the hill behind him, though he wouldn't look away from Dany. Until he did, and turned his back
Daenerys took a step forward, wanting to say something, "Stop, Ser Jorah, I've not dismissed you." Slowly, Jorah looked back to her. "You swore yourself to me. Swore to obey my commands for the rest of your life." At his small nod of acknowledgement, she continued, "I command you find the cure, scour the world if you have to, find it, if it exists. Then return to me, I need you... I need you by my side when I take the Seven Kingdoms."
Jorah seemed taken aback by her words, totally taken off guard. Though he hung onto the words, hearing every word. His disbelief washing away, he'd do his damndest to obey.
Like always, though this time he had a newfound sense of motivation. Before her proclamation to him, his plan was to go somewhere and finish it. Get it over with.
Now though, his resolve was strengthened, he'd find a damn cure.
"Make way for the Lord!" Stark direwolves fluttering over the courtyard to the Twins - a beautiful sight for the northmen gathered in and around the keep of the defunct House Frey - Jon walked out to find riders gallop through the large gates. Wide enough to allow for streams of foot and freight traffic that proceeded across the bridges, it easily fit the dozen or so riders that arrived trailing the white trout banners of House Tully. Longclaw at his side, Jon reached out his hands with a rather informal smile. "Ser Davos, it is good to see you again."
Davos chuckled, clasping Jon's hand warmly. "Glad to see you alive, son." The Onion Knight looked around. "Done pretty well for yourself, I see. Avenged your brother." Clasping his hand on Jon's back, he let himself feel a rather paternal pride in the young lad. "I knew you'd be destined for greatness when I saw you. Perhaps when this is all over, you'll be His Grace's Hand?"
Laughing sheepishly, Jon shrugged. "While it would be an honor, Starks don't do well in peacetime in the South." While he always enjoyed Davos' company, there were other visitors he had to attend to. Offering one last smile, he turned and gave a shallow bow of respect as the lead rider dismounted. "Ser Brynden, welcome to the Twins."
Gruff and sullen as ever, Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully nevertheless seemed satisfied at what he saw of the Twins. "Can't say this place won't ever smell like cheap wine and old farts, but it's better now that the fucker Walder is dead." He scanned the direwolf sigils. "Would've preferred the Tully banner to hang here, but you Starks deserve it after all."
"Aye, we do." Motioning for the Blackfish and his men to follow him inside, Jon and Davos flanked the patriarch of House Tully and de facto leader of the Riverlands. "Your men can find refreshments in the great hall. Relax where Walder Frey died."
The Blackfish snorted. "You have a sense of humor. Unlike Stannis. Being with him was torture, even if I did see Riverrun again."
"He is your King, show some respect," Davos replied, curtly.
"He's not my King yet. I never bent the knee, nor did any Riverlander. Not yet at least - I wanted to hear from the man that took the Twins first."
Sharing a quick glance with Davos, Jon nodded. "That can be arranged, along with your family."
He quirked an eyebrow. "My family?"
"Your nephew and grand-nephew are here, as well as your grand-niece."
"Little Edmure?" Brynden half-laugh, with a scoff. "I didn't know he made it."
"Seem Walder didn't want to murder him along with my brother," Jon said, hanging his head for a moment. "Kept him chained up. His wife and son were essentially confined to their room. The only Freys I didn't strip of their titles or name… though I guess they aren't Freys."
The Blackfish regarded him with a curious eye. "No, they're not. Thank you… at least House Tully has a future, even if it has to endure my nephew. He's family… but he's a pussy. Always wished my niece Catelyn had a cock. Would've been an excellent Lord."
Davos noticed Jon stiffen at the mention of Lady Stark. Quickly, he shifted the subject. "Perhaps he toughened up while locked up? That tends to change men."
"We'll see."
A bannerman of House Umber opened the door to the Lord's solar - now Jon's chambers until he could install a new Lord of the Twins - letting the group of men in. Already seated was Arya, casually sharpening Needle while it perched in her slinged hand. Ghost resting beside her, rather protective of his little sister. Jon cleared his throat. "Sister, we have a guest."
"I can see that, brother," she said flippantly. Looking up. "Hello, uncle Brynden. I'd get up but," she pointed to her shoulder with an apologetic look. "Injured in the line of duty."
Brynden's scowl didn't change, while Davos suppressed a chuckle. Jon grinned, knowing she wasn't one for formalities - he had seen that apologetic look before, and knew it was shit. "Now that you met my sister…"
"Lady Roslin." The second person in the solar needed no introduction - it had been her wedding that started all the mess in the Riverlands. Ever a gentleman, the Blackfish reached out and took the Lady of Riverrun's hand, kissing it. "Thank the Gods that you are alright. And the… child?"
Blushing faintly, Roslin Tully nestled the toddler in her arms. The boy fast asleep. "Axel. His name is Axel Tully, my Lord."
"A fine name. I shall enjoy watching him grow up." Looking him over, the Blackfish nodded. "Looks like his grandfather, my brother. Will be a fine Lord of Riverrun, I can see it." The Lady Roslin smiled.
Pulling himself a seat, Jon felt something furry nudge into his side. He laughed, looking at Ghost. Ruffling his fur and scratching behind his ear - one of the few cathartic things he had left besides spending time with his family and read the few letters Sam and Aemon sent from the wall. Direwolf lolling his tongue out and mewling happily at the attention. Arya smiled warmly, as did Davos. Roslin gave a small smile while the Blackfish's scowl… slightly softened. Little Axel had finally awoken, watching the big direwolf with awe.
The door opened and an Umber bannerman entered. "Mi'Lord, I present Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun." Two other bannermen led in a rather scruffy figure. Rail thin and his clothes hanging on him like bags, but clean shaven and dressed well. Befitting a poor Lord, but a Lord nonetheless.
"Edmure." Roslin rose, racing over to hug her husband. One she barely had any time to see since arriving at the Twins from Riverrun the day before. The Starks and Davos allowed the young family a moment.
But not the more practical Blackfish. "Sit down you fool. You can do that on your own damn time."
Sparing his wife and son a tender look, the young and wary Lord took a seat beside his uncle. "Lord Stark. Once again and in the presence of my family, thank you for delivering justice for House Tully as you did my sister and nephew."
Jon nodded. "As I said to you weeks ago, you are most welcome, Lord Tully." He smiled. "I hope we can use this moment of unity to form an alliance between House Tully and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Name your terms, Lord Stark."
Handing the floor to Davos, the Onion Knight cleared his throat. "His Grace seeks no quarrel with the rightful rulers of Riverrun, and is willing to reinstate House Tully as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands as well as grant them the treasury of the late House Frey, minus ten percent to the Starks of Winterfell and twenty percent to the crown itself."
The Blackfish crossed his arms. "Money is money, but what's to happen with the fuckin' Twins themselves?"
"Will my sisters and brothers be safe?" Roslin asked timidly, close to Edmure's side.
"Your sisters are safe, they will stay with their husbands or - if you wish - could be sent to Riverrun as your ladies in waiting. The Frey name will die, however. All but you will have their names stripped of them and be made bastards. Any of your male relatives that participated in the Red Wedding still alive will be sent to the Wall." Jon sympathized with Roslin. She seemed nothing like her shit of a father, but now wasn't the time to be too merciful.
Arya, naturally, was inclined to be far more ruthless. "Be lucky that's all he's doing… Lady Tully," she said nonchalantly, but it came off as a threat nonetheless. Roslin quieted down, counting her blessings.
Eying both his sister and Davos, Jon continued. "In addition, I will be naming a new Lord to the Twins on King Stannis' behalf."
"And who would that be, Lord Stark?" asked Edmure.
"Edwyn Cassel, a brave young knight and son of the late Master-of-Arms at Winterfell." Jon took a deep breath, ready for the firestorm.
It came as he expected, although from Edmure rather than Brynden. "A Northerner? You're taking the Twins for yourself?" He was incredulous.
Jon didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Without King Stannis' direction?"
Producing a piece of parchment, Davos Seaworth placed it in the middle of the table. "A decree from his Grace Stannis Baratheon, declaring House Cassel domain of the Twins as a major house answering to House Stark of Winterfell. All it needs is to be joined by Lord Stark's word and it is done."
"You can't do that…"
"That is where you're wrong, uncle," Arya cut in. "The North suffered the most by Walder Frey's treachery. Thousands dead, a dozen houses gutted of their heirs. Its King butchered and his wolf's head sewn to his body and paraded around!" Jon's head whipped around, looking at Arya with hidden shock. That was a detail he hadn't known. If I hadn't killed Walder, I'd have done it now. Arya seethed with rage. "Winter came for House Frey, and now Winter came for the Twins."
Jaw open to retort, Brynden silenced Edmure with a wave of the hand. "I don't doubt the North didn't suffer, Lady Stark…"
"I'm no lady."
The Blackfish actually chuckled at that. "But the fact of the matter is that the Riverlands suffered the most during this war. You can't just take away one of the lynchpin estates for yourself and expect us to bend the knee to Stannis."
Jon looked at each of the Tullys, a small smile reaching his face. "The Riverlands will receive its due. They'll receive all of what they had prior to this war and more. All from where the blame truly belongs." He leaned forward. "The Lannisters. But that won't happen unless you bend the knee to Stannis." Arya beamed at her older brother. He truly was the powerful Lord that she had always hoped for him to be.
"We have the forces of the Stormlands, North, and Free Folk under Stannis' command, along with a significant contingent of Crownlands forces pledged to Dragonstone." No one knew the breadth of Stannis' kingdom than Davos. If Jon would win the throne for Stannis, Davos would keep it for him - or so the common saying went among the high Lords under the Stag King. "We are currently in negotiations with the Lord Protector of the Vale…"
"Baelish, ha!" Brynden smacked the table. "Good luck trusting that cunt." He pursed his lips. "But I see your point. Cersei's smart, but blowing up the Lord of Highgarden leaves her with nearly nothing. North, Stormlands, Vale, and... Wildlings? With our forces in the mix there would be no stopping them by the bitch."
"Uncle, hasn't our kingdom suffered enough…?"
Glaring at his nephew, the Blackfish grunted. "And we'll fucking suffer worse if we just let the war for the throne continue endlessly. It has to end now. So," he nudged Edmure. "You're the Lord of Riverrun. Do what you have to do."
Sighing, Edmure stood. Extending his hand. "I will need to meet with Stannis himself, but if he agrees to proper compensation for the Riverlands when Cersei is defeated, then the Riverlands stand with him."
Relieved, and a little bit triumphant, Jon took Edmure's hand. Pact all but secured.
A/N: BRuh4: We knew Dany still had to go to the Dothraki because she needs those men to invade. But we didn't wanna rehash anything that you guys saw in the show. Again, anything that was happening behind the scenes around now in canon, assume it's still happening even though we don't show it too you. For example, we checked in at King's Landing in this one, after Cersei had taken the throne. All that shit that happened with that happened, we didn't wanna change it or just repeat it to y'all in written form.
So, Dany with the Dothraki needed a different twist, we decided that the dragons showing up would be dope. I think it ended up pretty cool.
Ooh boy, all the pieces are coming together people, hold onto your hats.
Longclaw: So there's gonna be a lot of political intrigue and angst for a few chapters before things get really insane. Gotta set up a lot of shit ;)
Further clarification on the DarkJon and DarkDany plans, this is still a Jonerys story and we aren't changing that, but I guess you can say we will spin their relationship in a different manner. Craft it to fit the general tone of the story as we did Jon's relationships with Sansa, Rickon, and Arya. You guys are gonna like it, trust me :)
Let us know what y'all thought in a comment.
Tell your friends.