A/N: Longclaw: Hey everyone. We're back with our longest chapter yet.

More negative comments for the last chapter. Some raised interesting points that we answered, while others were simply trolling and insults. One person stooped as low as using screeds demeaning of women and referring to Daenerys as nothing but a piece of meat. I won't repeat the disgusting words.

This chapter should answer the questions about the last and provide context on the whole Daario issue. Long story short, we're shifting into the first phase of our Jonerys plan, not to mention getting back to Stannis.

BRuh4: Hey all, here we are again with another update.

Fitting the usual pattern, the last chapter was again met with concern and some hostility. While we don't usual enjoy explaining everything over and over again, this particular time we realize there sort of was a lack of context for the situation. Daenerys wanted Jon to be interrogated. Not beaten. This chapter will provide further light on the event.

Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 22: You Will Get Burned

The particular warm winter's day in the Reach began with a deep, clear blue draped over the plains. Fields of late wheat nurtured on the warm winds from the great sea to the west, seen from miles all around, rippled in the wind like waves. Any observer would imagine themselves not on land, but in the middle of a gentle swell of the ocean. Above, puffy white clouds were all that marred the sky, kinds that people liked to see shapes in.

But below, watched over by the gardens and whitewashed walls of Highgarden castle, an immense clash of steel and blood played out. Churning such a gorgeous landscape into the fifth hell so preached by septons all across Westeros.

Scouts had spotted the columns of the Stag King's forces within three days of Highgarden, not enough time to secure an escape with the vast supplies stored within the castle needed for the upcoming campaign. Lady Olenna and Ser Garlan Tyrell gave the order to stand firm and give battle - if they could bloody Stannis enough, then the defeat would cripple him and end the war. As such, the bulk of the twenty-five thousand forces gathered and whatever smallfolk could be impressed formed a series of earthen and wood redoubts in-depth outside Highgarden castle. If Stannis were to force them into a siege, then he would have to pay in blood.

They expected a three-day march, however - Stannis had marched his men rapidly, reaching the woods outside the fields hours ahead of what the Tyrell forces planned for the fight. He arranged his forces in four columns of infantry, Rivermen under Lord Mallister, Stormlanders under Lord Selmy, and two Vale columns under Ser Harry Hardyng and Lord Gillwood Hunter. To the right, the entirety of the cavalry gathered under Lord Yohn Royce in six columns, prepared to cover the flank and join the infantry to storm each of the redoubts at dawn. But a skirmish between Tyrell scouts and the van of House Royce's personal command forced things to accelerate. Stannis ordered the assault at six in the morning, before the sun could rise.

The suddenness of the attack overcame the natural defensive advantage. Hardened knights covered by intense arrow fire to overwhelm the first redoubt and slaughter the men at arms within. For Harry Hardyng and Lord Mallister, the assault on the second set of defenses stalled - Lords bypassing them to attack forces caught in the open trying to reinforce the second redoubt. It was the cavalry that was unable to achieve a stunning success, Lord Royce butting headlong into the heavily armored knights led by Garlan Tyrell. The first waves crashed into a bloody melee, Bronze Yohn withdrawing his forces before they could be shattered. There was a time for an all-out assault and this wasn't it.

Under the low twilight of dawn, Hardyng and Mallister only just managed to extract themselves from a counterattack by Ser Horas Redwyne. Pitching the Baratheon camp into disarray, Garlan ordered the entire reserve of ten thousand men out of Highgarden itself to give an open battle. To take advantage of the disarray just as the sun began to emerge high in the sky. Two hours passed, archery duels and cavalry skirmishes the order of the day as the Tyrells organized at the second redoubt and the Baratheons reformed at the first. Many commanders pleaded with Stannis to advance but he refused. A move that turned out to be brilliant.

Distracted by the Baratheon host, the two thousand man vanguard of House Tarly wasn't spotted until just prior to the initial assault. Initially Olenna Tyrell, watching from her tower atop Highgarden with a glass of arbor gold, made thanks to the Gods for the first time since growing up. He had finally arrived. But hope turned to bile as the Tarly host linked up with the battered Baratheon cavalry, charging at Garlan's knights as the bulk of the Tyrell forces were preoccupied with the intense slaughterhouse in the second redoubt. Horse sweeping in to the south while the Tarlys - supported by the best archers the Reach had to offer - anchored the north of the flank. Ready to both screen Garlan and hit into the infantry from behind.

If the Baratheon forces were on the verge of a breakthrough before Randyll Tarly arrived, they had just clinched it at that moment.

Atop a hilltop half a mile from the battlefield, Littlefinger lowered his spyglasses, smirking as the Tyrell troops broke. Knights of the Vale joining the Tarly men-at-arms in slaughtering their way through the enemy line. "A decisive victory, your Grace. Perhaps your finest." The praise seemed quite fawning, but it was completely deserved. An army of nearly twenty-five thousand completely annihilated. Highgarden captured - surely the most decisive battle the Reach had seen since the Field of Fire.

"A horrible business," Davos stated. "Necessary for the scheme of things, but regrettable." The Battle of Blackwater Bay had been enough death and carnage for one lifetime.

"These rustics are so inept," Stannis rolled his eyes. His leg was feeling better that day, and watching the latest triumph that the bards would sing of till the world ended had taken all the pain away. He leaned on his horse, bored and comfortable. "Country bumpkins and tourney knights playing right into my hands. Nearly takes the honor out of victory." Both men glanced at Stannis, who suddenly offered a tiny grin. "Nearly."

Davos smiled while Littlefinger laughed. "I love it, your Grace."

"Your Grace." A dispatch rider ran up, sweat pouring from his face in spite of the cold. "Message from Harrenhal." Stannis took the dispatch, brows furrowing.

"Perhaps it is my Castilian, your Grace," Littlefinger mused. "News of Lord Stark."

"He hasn't replied for a while. Perhaps he made battle with Cersei?" Davos pondered.

Whatever joy that had formed on Stannis' face died in that moment, a hard scowl forming as he crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it to the ground. Riding off.

Concerned, Davos dismounted, grabbing the piece of parchment and unfurling it. "What does it say?" Baelish asked.

The Onion Knight gasped at the first line… tears welling in his ruddy eyes as he scanned each word. "Jon… Lord Stark… The Dragon Queen has him."

All rose as Queen Daenerys trolled through the double doors, entering the room with the painted table. Many of her advisors waited her there. Only when she sat down herself the rest do so as well. Ser Barristan sat to her right, and Tyrion on the left, Greyworm lingered behind her as always. Varys and Daario sat across from Dany.

A glare found its way to her former lover, but she forced it to wait. The Queen had heard of what her sellsword had did, she was angry but more important matters needed to be spoken of. A meeting had been called in a rather urgent matter. She'd heard bits about an attack near the bay of Sunspear. Also the defeat Olenna Tyrell had just suffered.

"What's happened? Tell me," Dany said.

Varys sat up, looking around at all the faces before him. "The Greyjoy fleet was attacked in anchor at Sunspear. Yara, Theon, Ellaria, and the Sand Snakes were all killed or captured."

The room filled with sighs of despair, Barristan's fist clenched on the table, "By who?"

"Apparently by other ships with Greyjoy flags, at this time we assume Euron Greyjoy attacked them."

"Unacceptable," Dany shook her head, fuming. "How could this happen?"

"It was a surprise attack," Varys explained. "I don't know all the details yet. But we lost many ships and likely the ability to ferry the Dornish across the sea."

Closing her eyes, Dany couldn't believe what she was hearing. Tyrion spoke up, "Can we not send our other ships?"

"We don't have enough," Barristan said. "Besides, we'll need them to carry our other soldiers. If we send the majority of our ships to Dorne our armies will be stranded elsewhere."

"Shit," Tyrion huffed. He stroked his hairy chin, hoping that would assist an idea to flow to his brain.

"It gets worse," Varys continued. "Olenna Tyrell was soundly defeated by Stannis, betrayed by Lord Randyll Tarly allowing him to practically annihilate our army in the Reach. I was told the Tyrells stood no chance. The Queen of Thorns is being held captured but I have heard Garlan may have escaped."

Her eyes shut tightly. "My allies, gone, just like that," Daenerys said, her voice just like a whisper.

"Garlan Tyrell is no help without an army behind him," Tyrion added.

"Isn't he still our ally?" Missandei asked.

"Yes, But we have no way to reach him. If he's smart he's on a boat across the Narrow Sea."

"It's only gone bad to worse since we landed here," Daario said, shaking his head. "Should've stayed in Meereen."

Daenerys had often thought about this lately. What if she had just stayed in Meereen? Where she was loved. Though before she left even there the air was just a hostile. "We can't look back. Only forward." If I look back, I am lost. A pull had brought her to Westeros - beyond mere will, a pull indescribably had brought her to these shores and she would not question it.

"What are we to do now?" Missandei sounded off. "What's our next move?"

"We should send a raven to Dorne," Barristan said. "Get in touch with Arianne, see if we can count on her."

"Even if we can, she can't help us," Tyrion answered, pursing his lips. "We can't get the army here."

"Perhaps… We should focus on other allies," Missandei suggested.

"Who exactly are you speaking of?" Tyrion said, looking at her with a curious gaze. But before she could respond he answered his own question. Waving his hand dismissively, "He'll never go for it. Not after what's happened, it's impossible."

"I think it's worth looking into," Missandei argued.

"Could someone clue me in?" Daario scoffed from across the way.

It seemed clear to Dany who they were thinking of. She shared the same assessment that Tyrion mentioned. But, given what's happened elsewhere, she may need him more than she realized. "I believe it may be worth a try," she told Tyrion, then glanced at Missandei.

"If I'm not mistaken, we're talking about Jon Stark?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Yes," Tyrion sighed, feeling as if it truly could be an insurmountable task. "Given what's happened to him lately, I don't know if it's possible."

"What if we sent a significant amount of grain to the North? As a sort of peace offering, send the sort of message that their Lord won't be harmed," Missandei said, raising her eyebrows.

"Though that's already a lie."

"Despite that, it may be that the North is our only option," Varys added his voice to the noise. "No one else may jump to our side after Olenna."

"I believe may be worth a try," Daenerys surmised.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "Let me send a raven to Lady Sansa. I may not be her… favorite person, but someone familiar may convince her of our earnestness." He shrugged. "Then again, she may be more inclined to spit in our faces than Lord Stark."

Dany sighed. "We have nothing more to lose. I will allow the grain to be sent."

"A wise choice, Your Grace," Missandei smiled.

"We'll shall see," Tyrion shrugged.

"Seeing as we've come to a conclusion," Varys stood. "I've things to attend to." He looked to Daenerys for permission to leave. Who gave it in the form of a nod.

As the Spider left, Daario also stood. "I need to tend to my men."

"Commander Naharis." Daario halted in his tracks. "You are not to leave." For a split second, he grinned, thinking that she was hoping to rekindle their affair, but a turn found Missandei seated beside the Queen and Ser Barristan leaning against the wall behind her - even with the Hand of the Queen pin, a Kingsguard was always a Kingsguard. "Please, have a seat." He raised an eyebrow as Daenerys stared at him, but Daario complied.

There was a bit of a tense silence as the two locked eyes. Daario blinked first. "Yes, your Grace?"

"I am told you disobeyed my orders regarding our prisoner." Daenerys held up a hand, expression blank but eyes sharp and piercing. "Don't try to deny it, I have both Lord Tyrion and Lady Missandei's first-hand knowledge of your disobedience."

Knowing that any half-cocked story would just piss her off - and not in the good way - Daario simply leaned back, rolled his eyes, and scoffed. "Sure, I did have him roughed up a bit.."

This time it was Missandei who scowled. "A split lip, black eyes, massive bruises, broken nose, and likely cracked ribs do not count as 'roughed up a bit,' Commander Naharis."

"With all due respect, my Lady. I don't answer to you."

"But you answer to me, Daario," Daenerys cut in, fire in her voice even as she tried to reign it in. "I told you personally that he was not to be harmed."

"No one knows where Stannis is. They kept it from everyone but Lord Stark." Dany pinched her nose in frustration.

"Let me down there, I'll get it out of him."

Tyrion shook his head. "It's worthless to try, he'll never tell - even with torture."

"There will be no torture, he's too valuable." The Imp nodded while Daario scoffed at Dany's comment but said nothing. "He's not some Lord who wants money or power, though."

"Everyone wants that, my Queen," Daario answered.

She shook her head. "No… he's… different." Seven Hells, even Dany wasn't sure of anything anymore regarding Jon Stark. "Find out what he wants. What I could offer to make him bend the knee," she told Tyrion. "And Daario… he doesn't like you."

He grinned. "The feeling is mutual."

Dany snorted at the comment. "Drogo used to spill a lot of secrets when he was mad. Get him riled up, but do not hurt him. I want Lord Stark alive and unharmed, are we clear?"

The order was explicitly given. And he disobeyed.

A huff. "You needed to know where Stannis was, and I did try to find out before these two stopped me."

Ser Barristan was furious. "If you thought with your head instead of your cock, you'd realize Jon Stark is not a man we can afford to lose."

"What can I say?" He smirked. "I'm not a patient man when helping out my Queen."

With his smile trained at her, the same cocksure one that had once been charming, Daenerys felt disgusted. "You disobeyed my orders, and therefore I could find you guilty of treason against the crown." The look on her face showed she was completely serious.

He scowled. "Treason? Really?" A dry laugh left his lips. "The bastard…"

"His name is Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell," Barristan bristled. "Show some respect."

"The bastard is your enemy, my Queen. One that very nearly destroyed your army and killed your dragon." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "He knows exactly what Stannis was doing, and if I had gotten it out of him perhaps Olenna Tyrell would have survived."

Barristan shook his head. "She was stabbed in the back by the Tarlys. Traitors." He remembered Randyll Tarly, an old goat with a stick in his ass. It truly didn't shock him. "Unless you were to go back four weeks, nothing could be done."

Daario rolled his eyes again. "Do what you did with the Masters. Kill one of the fuckers that defies you, the rest will fall in line."

"This is not Essos you insolent whelp." The old knight slammed his fist on the table. "Jon Stark is one of the most popular men in all of Westeros. Outside of the Lannister high command he's practically the incarnation of the warrior in their eyes if Varys' little birds are to be believed. Kill him and her Grace will never break the wheel."

"What use is that if you lose. If you seem weak." His eyes shifted back to Daenerys, softening. The same look as he had given her in Meereen, when she had broken off their affair. "I do what is necessary. For you, my Queen, only for you." He silently pleaded for her to understand, for the same affection to return to her eyes as he had seen during their nights together in her bedchamber.

But that affection was not present. Only a cold anger. "There was a man that thought the same. A man that gave me his loyalty and love - his name was Mossador, and you executed him for committing murder and violating my direct orders. Do you not remember?"

Daario smirked. "And that decision almost tore Meereen apart, did it not? I know you won't do the same to me, far more loyal and valuable am I to your cause."

"In this you are right, Daario. You bring me battle-hardened troops, and a record of loyal and exemplary service. But what you did is worse than what Mossador did. He died as a matter of principle to show I would not be defied, whereas you could cost me everything if you harm Jon Stark again." She cut him off. "No, I've heard enough. You disgust me. I will not let you even come close to Jon Stark."

"Taking me off his interrogation details, am I?"

"Yes," Missandei stated flatly. With a steel not normally seen in former slaves. "I am to take charge of his upkeep from now on, reporting directly to her Grace. Jon Stark is an enemy, but also a valuable hostage and a High Lord entitled to respect."

This made him chuckle. "Those that would slit your throat as soon as look at you aren't entitled to respect. You knew that when you took Meereen but fail to see that now. You've grown soft, Daenerys."

A mistake. Fire flashed in her eyes. "We are not lovers anymore, Daario, nor will we ever be again. You will never speak my name in my presence again." She drew back a bit when he nodded, cowed for the first time this meeting. "I will not kill you, Daario. You are loyal in a way, and you've served me quite well until now. But I cannot overlook what you did." Now, a smirk graced her lips. "The grain fleet that will sail to White Harbor, you are to command it."

He figured he didn't hear her right. "Pardon, your Grace?"

"The shipment of grain I will give to the North, you are to take it there. You are going to deliver it to the Northerners, and if the Lady Sansa Stark is in White Harbor you are to fall to your knees, proclaim your fealty as a servant of the Queen and the Queen's subjects, and beg for her to take the gift as a token of my devotion to my people." Both Barristan and Missandei hid smirks of their own. "Are we clear?"

"So I'm to be a glorified merchant?"

"Merchant?" She thought about it. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Perhaps that will teach you some humility - ever since you murdered your commanders and snuck into my tent, you've been lacking that."

Knowing he was not getting out of this, Daario sighed and rose. Bowing. "Your Grace." Turning to leave, right before he would pass through the doorway he looked back at her. "Jon Snow will be the death of you. I hope you realize that."

She reacted not, merely barking out in Dothraki. "You better learn your lesson from this, Daario." She turned to the bloodriders. "Confine him in his room for today, then see to it that he gets on board the grain ships. Also…" She thought for a moment. Had he shown even a bit of remorse, she may have been somewhat lenient. "Cut off his finger. He needs to learn the value of obedience." He scowled, but left with the Dothraki trailing him, door slamming behind him. Letting out an exhale she didn't know she had been holding in, Daenerys pinched the bridge of her nose. "How did it come to this?"

Barristan placed a hand on her shoulder. "That likely wasn't the first time someone tried to exceed your orders to impress you and it won't be the last. Love, gold, influence, they'll want something and would do anything for you to get it."

Sensing a silent seething in the old knight, Daenerys spoke up. "You disagree with my decision?"

"I think you'll need to make a better example of him. Not kill him - that would indicate you are not loyal to your own men, but…"

"You're right, which is why I ordered them to cut off his finger." Gods, why did the sellsword have to complicate her current situation more? "Make sure he gets the message, as do the rest of my combat commanders. If you can't do the deed, have my bloodriders do it."

"They'll want to chop off more than his finger, most likely."

Dany nodded. "Just… make sure he can still fight… and hang the sellswords that he used in disobeying me." They were expendable at this point - she had done so previously for a Dothraki and Second Son who raped a woman at Duskendale, didn't cause any disobedience or disloyalty among her men. "Make sure everyone sees it."

"At once, your Grace." Bowing, Barristan left the Painted Table.

Now, it was just her and Missandei. The translator had stood, arms crossed and staring down at Dany. Eyes closed and leaning back, the Queen nevertheless felt the eyes boring down on her. "Do you have something to say as well, Missandei?"

"Permission to be frank?"

"You know you can always speak your mind with me." With all they had been together, it was insulting that she'd have to ask.

Missandei nodded. "You fucked up… badly." Her words were blunt and cold. "And you should have executed him."

"Next time he does something like this, I will not hesitate." She gestured to the Painted table. "Reach gone, Dorne a mess. I can't afford any more losses. Much as I wish it weren't true, he's basically to his men what Bittersteel was to the Golden Company." Perhaps therein is the problem. Robb Stark - from what Tyrion had told her - was sent into the arms of Walder Frey because Rickard Karstark held the loyalty of his bannermen, not the King in the North. I will have to secure the loyalty of the Second Sons to myself.

Her best friend didn't see the shades of grey. "You should have taken the chance. Jon Stark is worth more than him… and I hope you didn't destroy your chance at getting his support."

A groan left Daenerys' mouth, a bit surprised by her friends words. "Daario's misdeeds are on him, not me. I ordered that Lord Stark be treated with kid gloves."

"Doesn't matter." Someone has to be honest with her. "You are the Queen. Therefore, the responsibility rests with you if one of your subordinates screws up. I know you didn't intend it or wanted it, but Daario's actions ultimately are on you."

Closing her eyes again, Daenerys felt a deep ache in her skull. "You're right." Pushing out of her seat, the Dragon Queen stepped away from the Painted Table, staring out at the gentle waves of Blackwater Bay. "I should have seen this coming. He and Lord Stark hate each other, and I've sensed a… zealousness in him. As if he thinks he knows better for what's right for me."

"Daario does not work well on a leash."

"He's never disobeyed me before." She bit her lip. "I should have had Tyrion do it alone… or Grey Worm."

The Naathi translator had seen many rulers in her time in chains. All of them held a great burden, but for Daenerys it seemed to be increased. The weight of the world on her shoulders - a woman of the greatest power yet also with the greatest compassion. Both combined, they could engulf a person, drown them. "Did you have to attack the Northerners head on? Couldn't you treat with them first?"

"You heard the military considerations, Missandei. We couldn't wait, not with Stannis marching against us." Her head was throbbing, Daenerys wishing she could be flying atop Drogon. Letting the solitude of the skies calm her. All I truly have is solitude… "Stannis declared war on me and they were a military target."

"I don't discount that, your Grace. Everything you did was correct. But was it truly wise?"

Daenerys pressed her hand against the cool stone. "Do you think it wasn't?"

"Against the masters, not at all. Against either of the usurpers, no - you spared the prisoners, that shows your magnanimity. But the leader of the Northern host is Jon Stark, an entirely different issue entirely. Perhaps you should have been more guarded in your attack."

"I cannot be what I am not, Missandei." Daenerys didn't bother to turn around. "I am a dragon, I must be a dragon."

"Forgive me if I do not truly understand the blood that flows through your veins, but I have seen you with your children. A dragon isn't just fire and blood."

Dragons don't plant trees… But that wasn't necessarily true. Aegon the Conqueror had created something no one else had. The Valyrian Dragonlords had forged the greatest empire in history. "I've lost my army in the Reach. The Dornish Lords have been slaughtered. Yara Greyjoy's forces have been slaughtered. Cersei Lannister has the Iron Throne and Stannis has the rest of Westeros eating out of the palm of his hand, and all that I've done…" The moment of triumph - a shining victory, stunning in scope just in the immediate aftermath, now with the fog of war lifted from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms it was in a different light. "All I've done is defeat one of the Stag King's armies that's turning into both an albatross around my neck." She hit a fist against the stone wall. "Why couldn't he just bend the knee?"

Walking beside her, Missandei leaned her hip against the wall. "Would he have managed to unite the disparitated Northern Lords, bring the Free Folk south of the wall, and earn the respect of the Riverlands, Vale, and Stormlands had he been someone who would give in at the earliest opportunity?"

Daenerys looked up, violet eyes glassy and sad as they met Missandei's.

"Let me put it another way, your Grace. Would the Unsullied, the freedmen of Slaver's bay… would myself have chosen you as our Queen had you looked like the same type of conqueror? That would, as you say, been part of the wheel?"

"My goal is to break the wheel, Missandei." Daenerys scowled. "How dare you say I am part of what I want to destroy."

She shook her head dismissively. "You and I both know that that isn't true." Reaching up, Missandei clasped her shoulder. Hoping to offer at least some form of empathy and understanding. "The Lords of Westeros… they see only their own gain. If they can get what they want from Stannis then they'll go for Stannis. I may not be a political expert, but I know enough to see that true."

"I need allies," Daenerys said softly.

A small smile on the translator's face. "Jon Stark… I only know what I saw for but a moment, but he is more like you than you would care to admit. A man that isn't like the others, one with honor."

"Honor… what has that done for me, Missandei?"

"I am here because you have honor. Have a sense of justice that no other had." Leaning forward, offering Daenerys a comforting hug, she felt the Queen finally seem to relax. "He is the ally you need," she began, pulling back. "But the enemy you have. Perhaps you should try to make him see what we all see in you, lest you paint yourself as the monster Stannis and Cersei proclaim you are."

Another rainstorm blanketed Dragonstone. A bristling gale that sent sheets of water against the stone walls and cliffs of the island, primal howling reminding Daenerys of mournful dragon cries. Of how Rhaegal and Viserion cried for their mother as she chained them in Meereen. Such memories pained her. If I look back, I am lost.

She found him nestling in the dryest portion of the cell. Avoiding the dripping of water through the more exposed parts. Stannis may have been a strong lord from all that she heard, but the conditions of the castle's dungeon didn't seem to be high on his list.

Now, the Dragon Queen had the island - and she had more pressing matters to attend to, but part of her resolved to have him moved to a dryer cell.

Daenerys did not know why she was here. Why she was alone, without Tyrion, or Missandei, or Grey Worm, or her bloodriders. Alone with the enigmatic Lord of Winterfell. The White Wolf, Stannis Baratheon's greatest field commander. That alone dictated she had to despise him… but she didn't. He angered and frustrated her, though not enough to hate.

Seemingly noticing the new presence, Jon Stark tried to rise. Unfortunately his now beaten and bruised body wouldn't allow. A low curse flew through his lips, wincing hard. Blinking away his sleep, grey eyes quickly found her. Boring into her. Sending an electric tingle down her system. Daenerys fought to stay firm, to not give him an inch.

Aside from the light of the singular lantern, nothing else illuminated the room, Dany rested her hands on the bars. Laying her eyes on Jon's hard countenance, giving nothing away. He laid on the floor, pulling a ragged blanket tighter around him. They just looked at each other for a while, neither of them saying anything to the other. Dany began to wonder why she'd decided to come see him in the first place. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Jon broke the silence.

"What are you doing down here? I'd just finally fell asleep." His voice was cold, yet clearly curious.

"I was just wondering that myself," Daenerys said, equally as cold. She paused for a few moments before speaking again. "Lord Tyrion, my Hand, he suggests that over time, the longer you spend time in this cell will loosen your tongue."

"You believe that?"

"My Hand is a clever man, even you wouldn't be able to deny that," Dany responded. "But… I've noticed he sees the best in people."

"Do you?"

"Not particularly, but there's something about you… Jon Stark," Dany said, seemingly leaning in. ...he is more like you than you would care to admit. She appeared to be wanting to confess something, but she immediately bit her tongue and backed away. What does Missandei see in you?

Even in the darkness, Jon's raised eyebrows were glowing. "Is that why you came without your guards? Think you'll get more from me alone?" Daenerys said nothing, giving nothing away but a sense of… awkwardness. Quite unexpected, especially from the Mother of Dragons. "Don't you think that I could be a threat? Take you as a hostage and escape?"

Daenerys just stared at him, "That's hardly possible, in your condition." For the first time in years, she had met someone who had disconcerted her. It both feared and intrigued her.

"I could manage," Jon said. "Without your dragons, I doubt you'd be too much trouble. And the one I met seems to like me." He couldn't help but offer a small smirk.

Dany bristled, "Who do you think you are?"

"Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, the White Wolf, Master of War for Stannis Baratheon and so on," He replied. "You know how I am."

"I don't believe I fully do. I don't know you." The ally I need… the enemy I have. "Most lords I've met are easy to read. Gold, power, vengeance, I know what they want. But you're different. I have no idea what you want."

"I want out of this cell. I want to go home."

Her eyebrow raised. "That's it?"

He was not about to confess about the Army of the Dead to her. "I want peace for the north and the wildlings. We've suffered too much… and I really want out of this cell."

Snark aside, the fact that he asked for something selfless endeared him slightly to her. Was this was Missandei spoke of? Had it been reversed,she would have said the same about the slaves. "That could be arranged."

"If I bend the knee…" Jon shook his head.

"It's not an unreasonable thing to ask, Lord Stark. Think about your people."

Jon shook his head. "You don't understand what Stannis has done for me. I can't betray him. I won't. Especially not in exchange to help you."

Hands tightening around the bars, Dany gritted her teeth. She felt fire boiling up in her, rearing to leave her mouth as fire. How could Missandei see him and I as alike? "Stannis will lose," she hissed. "You bowing before him only prolongs this war, and the suffering that will come of it."

Jon felt her heated gaze, rolling over to fully face her though it intensely pained him. He needed to rise to the occasion of meeting her, not allowing himself to back down. Even going as far to stand, shaking like a leaf. The blanket fell off his back, exposing the litany of scars abounding across his chest. Along with bandages and bruises left by Daario and his friends, even his face still looked a tinge of purple. Jon's feet carried him close to bars where Dany stood, she didn't move away as he approached.

Face reddening, jaw clenched, Jon spoke up, angrily, "You killed a lot of my friends. A lot. If you expect me to just lay down before your feet, you truly don't know a damn thing about me. My Stark honor means much more to me than my life. Nothing will ever change that."

Daenerys cocked her head to the side, didn't retreat an inch. "I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to hurt your friends - to add even one more soul to the death and killing…" She closed her eyes, regaining her composure. "But I must take back what is mine. Unfortunately, you and your friends stood in my way. You still stand in my way. After coming so far, so close to dragging this damn world from the shit it is in, I cannot allow myself to be stopped. You can either get out of the way, bend the knee. Or continue to fuel my ire and you just might get burned."

Jon laughed, then rested his own hands on the bars for support. "You almost scared me, almost. I won't be bullied. Not by anyone - even a dragon."

"Is that all you see me as?" Her fists clenched at her sides. "It shouldn't come down to bullying, Lord Stark." Why was he being so damn stubborn? It just didn't make sense to Daenerys. "You should be smart. Bend the knee out of your own accord. I bring fire and blood to my enemies, but bread and freedom to my friends." Did you become Mhysa from fire and blood alone? Ser Barristan's words stuck to her, calming her fire.

Looking back at him, Jon's gaze was less angry… more searching. Curious. "Bread and freedom." Maester Aemon spoke so highly of his niece. Did he realize something that I just haven't? "I heard about how you freed the slaves of Essos. A noble purpose, only for you to do the exact opposite in Westeros."

"The exact opposite?!" ...lest you paint yourself as the monster Stannis and Cersei proclaim you are. Here Jon Stark was, proving Missandei correct. "I believe you should know that I ordered a significant amount of grain to be sent to White Harbor."

"Is that so?" Jon snorted a bit.

"Truly. Your sister knows you're here. I've sent it as a gesture of good faith. Of peace."

"How thoughtful of you," Jon said a snarky tone. "You've no friends there. Sansa would probably prefer it be tossed out then take an offering from the Dragon Queen."

"Do you truly believe that?" Daenerys knew of people so mad and petty that they would do something like that. The Starks… Jon… they didn't seem like that. Perhaps in the fever dreams of idiots, but not to her. "That a Kingdom faced with war, winter, and famine would reject needed food and supplies?"

Standing up straight - as much as he could through the pain - Jon finally sighed. "No." He pushed himself off the bars, hobbling back to where he could sit. "Thank you, for helping my people." It's what his father would have done, honored a good deed even from an enemy… but unlike his father or Robb, he wouldn't take it with his eyes closed. "I'm still stumped as to why."

Daenerys blinked. "Why what?"

"Why you would bother to feed us? The North can give you nothing. Why would you give a damn about us once we weren't a threat to you anymore?"

"I don't want to force your people to obey me. I will if I must but that isn't what I want." She looked away. "None of this bloodshed and death was ever what I wanted."

"What do you want?"

"My birthright, the Iron Throne."

"Keep saying that… how the Throne belongs to you. Seems your claim to that damn thing rests entirely on your father's name," Jon surmised with a shrug. "You can try to butter up my people all you want. Nevertheless, they won't forget what you've done to them. The North Remembers. If you force them into submission they will never truly follow or obey you. They follow me, right now, they follow Sansa because they have to... If claiming the North is something you truly want then you will have to win their support. Not ask for it, they won't give it. They hate you. Send all the grain you want, it won't change anything if you aren't worth following. "

She met his eyes, not backing down. "And who is worth following? The same people who keep grinding the smallfolk between their wheel in a quest for power?" Dany leaned in closer. "Everyone says you're an honorable man that cares for his people. I saw that on the field…" Her voice softened. "Join me, Jon Stark. Bend the knee, and we can break the wheel. Do for Westeros what I did for the people of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen."

For a moment, Jon thought she was being sincere. The goddess among men, her beauty legendary. He'd be a fool not to admit it - if things were different… He shook his head, wincing at the pain in his shoulders. "It doesn't matter what you say. It doesn't change what you've done. And this?" He pointed to his bruises. "This part of 'breaking the wheel?' Gonna have your sellsword flay me like the Boltons used to do, too?"

Dany huffed, taking in his words, seemingly advice. She watched as Jon turned from her, going back to sit down. They just stared at each other for awhile before Dany spoke again, "I'm… It's unfortunate…"

"Unfortunate?!" he snarled, anger coming out of nowhere, eyes blazing heat that even made Dany flinch. Seeing that, he took a deep breath. "Your sellsword almost killing me was… unfortunate?"

Missandei's words from before burned in her mind. Proud as she was, Dany nevertheless felt remorse course through her. She truly did fuck up here. "I apologize… for what happened to you." He eyed her quizzically, almost stunned - clearly not expecting that. "I didn't mean nor desire for Daario go that far."

"Well, he did," Jon frowned. "You sent him to me anyway."

"What he did was against my orders… and he has been disciplined. The men who beat you have been put to death."

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it."

"You can see their bodies if you like. I'm sure the Unsullied can escort you to see them."

"Make it happen then." He wasn't finished. "And Daario?"

"Exactly what he inflicted on you."

There was silence. Jon regarding her sincerity. "At least I know now you're not a sadist. Foolish, perhaps. Prone to anger and trusting the wrong people, but not inflicting pain for pain's sake." He shrugged. "I've known people like that. Killed many of them."

How hard has his life been? It appeared Dany didn't know anything about the enigma that was Jon Stark. "It was a mistake on my part, to allow that to happen. I'll see to it that a maester or one of my Dothraki healers tend to your injuries." Daario disobeyed my orders, but the responsibility resides with me. It would be her burden to bear, and foe or not this man didn't deserve the same torture she inflicted on the masters and the khals. "Lady Missandei will be in charge of your care from now on. And she will report directly to me."

He regarded that. "She doesn't look like a normal member of any small council, but I seek advice from wildlings, so I suppose I cannot complain." Daenerys couldn't help but nod - Lord Stark may have been the son of a Lord Paramount, but he held as unconventional life as she had. "Oh, before I leave this island, I'll be killing him - Daario. I hope you don't mind."

That did get a small smirk out of the Queen, "I might like to see you try." He literally almost fought her army to a standstill.

"Let me out of the cage and you will."

But her desires didn't make her a fool. Her remorse for Daario hurting him didn't make her a fool. He was still an enemy. "Can't imagine you actually think I'd let you out right now," Dany shook her head. "I don't know what you'd do."

"I'd get my sword, kill the sellsword, and leave."

"Just Daario? You'd just kill him?"

"Oh, I could kill you. Perhaps I should." He crossed his arms, gritting his teeth a bit. "I don't kill women, but perhaps I could make an exception. End the war. I suppose that's why you'll leave me in here until my bones are dust."

"It'd only be natural," Dany replied. "Given the circumstances. Except you won't get the chance, and I don't intend on dying anytime soon. But yes, part of the reason I leave you behind bars is simply because you are an anomaly. I haven't the slightest clue what would happen if you got free. I've no doubt you'd kill many of my people in your escape attempt. You're dangerous, but also 's why you're here."

"I suppose we're at a stalemate, then," Jon huffed, crossing his arms even though it pained him. "I won't give you what you want. You won't give me what I want."

"I suppose so."

"You're smart," Jon said suddenly, after a long silence. "Locking me up here, on Dragonstone. You could've killed me on the spot, but I'm more valuable to you alive."

"That's true, you are more valuable alive. I'd advise making choices that help you stay that way, Jon Stark," Dany replied, plainly. After that, she turned to leave.

Though she stopped once Jon began speaking again, "I've seen things you wouldn't believe. Things that need to be defeated, terrible things." He shivered in spite of himself, remembering the cold. Remembering how the icy hands gripped his skin. "Everyone will need to come together if we're going to survive."

What could honestly make the indomitable Wrath of the North shiver? The cell was cold, but he was steadfast before. She was intrigued. "I don't wish for you to be my enemy, Jon Stark." Weight of everything on her shoulders, she seemed to deflate. Hoping that the tension could be gotten rid of - hoping that she found the opening with the Warden of the North. "When I take the Iron Throne, the North could have my undying support against anything."

"Stannis was going to help me," Jon began again. "He saw the threat personally." Standing once more, Jon approached the bars. Anger gone from his grey eyes. Now pleading, seeming to pierce into her soul. Dany simply stood there, unable to move for an interminable moment before finally averting her gaze. "Send a raven to him," she heard him say. "Treat with him, see if you two can come to an understanding. I trust that he will want my safe return. Perhaps we both can get what we want."

Turning halfway to face him, Daenerys replied, "Perhaps." Before strolling off into the darkness of the hall before her. Leaving Jon all to himself, with only his thoughts to accompany him.

Everyone was gathered in the courtyard of Highgarden. All of noble blood, even bastards, stood under the collection of flaming stag banners of House Baratheon of Dragonstone and woodsman banners of House Tarly of both Hornhill and Highgarden - the decision having made to award Randyll Tarly's family both great castles. Knights in their full plate armor, Vale and Riverlands Lords in their woollen tunics and leather trousers, vindicated Stormlands and gloomy Reach Lords in their silk and cotton finery… only Lord Garlan of House Tyrell was missing, though not from lack of trying by the stags and woodsmen. Fully armed men-at-arms stood guard, crossbowmen watching from the battlements with their weapons pointed at the ready. No chances would be taken today.

At the trumpet of the herald, the entire gathering fell to their knees as King Stannis, First of His Name, emerged from the keep. Walking tall and proud, leg close to healing. Not that one could tell based on the sullen grimace he always wore. Beside him was his trusted retinue. Ser Davos Seaworth of Cape Wrath, Hand of the King with a look of worry on his stubbly beard and bald head. Queen Selyse, almost surreal in her return to the castle in which she had spent much of her childhood. Lord Randyll Tarly, Warden of the South, face passive and grouchy. Wishing he was anywhere but here. And lastly - ahead of the King if one could believe it - the Lady Melisandre. Smirk formed on her lips as her fiery red dress and dark red hair paved the way as would a torchlight.

Silently, they made their way to the raised dias. Overlooking the courtyard and a second platform, this one structured to hold a very different type of gathering. "Bring the prisoner," Stannis proclaimed, only with three of his companions. Melisandre having journeyed to the second platform for reasons obvious.

It didn't take long for the bannermen to emerge from the dungeons, surrounding the most valuable haul of the Battle of Highgarden. Eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Olenna Tyrell. The indomitable Queen of Thorns, de facto ruler of the Reach for longer than most gathered here had been alive, she looked nothing like what was remembered. Normally swathed in the best of imported Myrish lace and Lysine silks, all had been stripped away to reveal a slight old woman. Hair as white as snow, skin wrinkled, and gaunt form hobbled by age and gout. Yet still she stood proud as a mighty noblewoman, meeting the eyes of every Lord and Lady she passed. Those of the Reach averted their eyes in shame. Some younger knights jeered, but that was put down by the other Lords, stoic and respectful.

Eventually she reached the platform, slowly climbing up the steps to come face to face with the hooded executioners and the smirking Red Witch. "Welcome, Lady Tyrell," Melisandre said. "I hope you can accept the serenity of what is about to happen. To be accepted into the bosom of the Lord of Light is the highest honor…"

"Oh, do shut up," Olenna shot back as the executioners hauled her to the stake and pyre. "We both show what the bloody hells this is for, and it's no holy gobbledygook." Melisandre merely smiled, eyes finding her King. Wordlessly, Stannis left his Queen and his Warden of the South as he and Davos made their way towards the pyre.

"I don't like this," Davos murmured, shaking his head, hot on Stannis' heels. "She is your most important hostage."

"She's a worthless old woman," Stannis shot back, hatreds of the Siege of Storm's End still not healed. "Garlan, maybe, but no one cares about her in the long run."

Davos still wasn't convinced. "It's not right."

"It must be done," The Stag replied quickly as they reached the platform. "A message to the Dragon Queen. She'll know now that I'm a force to be reckoned with."

Guards stepping back to make way for their king, Stannis' eyes met Melisandre's. "The offering is ready for the Prince who was Promised, my King," she said, red eyes sparkling.

He nodded. "Good." Without another word, Stannis approached the now bound Olenna. "So here we are."

"Yes, here we are," Olenna replied.

"You know my wish is for your son to have been here."

She knew about the Siege of Storm's End. "Yes, I know."

"I may hate your family but I respect it. Any last requests?"

"I'm an old woman. I've known this day would come, the end. I'd hoped not so soon though. I had many things left to do." The light seemed to go out of her eyes. "Seeing as I will no longer be able to carry those things out. I'm angry, very angry. I can only hope that it will all catch up to you too, Stannis. But before you die, make sure Cersei's long gone. But before she goes, tell her what I told you." A sickly grin formed on her wrinkled face. "I'd like her to know it was me."

"Ironic. You were the instrument that the Lord of Light used." Burning the blood-engorged leeches… Walder Frey dealt with Robb Stark, Euron Greyjoy dealt with Balon, and Olenna took care of Joffrey. His reaction was nonetheless surprised. Stannis hated the little bastard just as much as anyone. "Anything else?"

Sighing as her lifetime of work and struggle was soon to end, Olenna allowed herself to relax for the first time in decades. "Remember, Stannis. You think the fire yours - you think it your champion. You love to call it your own. But there is only one who can truly call it that. I'm glad you understand who I'm talking about." Her eyes twinkled. "Don't worry, you'll meet her soon enough. I suspect our two roles will be reversed." Her green eyes opened, piercing into his. "By now you must think yourself invincible. You'll see soon enough how weak you are. You will get burned."

Scowling, Stannis turned away. Motioning to Melisandre to get it over with as he and Davos began to make their way to the royal platform.

The Red Woman now took center stage. Eyes flickering from Olenna to every Lord and Lady within the crowd. "We all must choose. Man or woman, young or old, Lord or peasant - our choices are the same." No one spoke. No one moved aside from the King, who took his place on the first platform alongside his Queen. "The choice of light or darkness, good or evil… we choose the true god, or the false."

Many of the Reach Lords - hell, most Lords - felt themselves chafe. Deprived of the knowledge of the Free Folk, the paranoia of the northerners, only those that had journeyed North of the Wall knew the certainty of the Lord of Light. Discomfort settled within them, but Stannis had won. His steel overpowered them, and his will ruled them.

Melisandre took a torch from the executioner, stepping towards the pyre. "Lords of the Reach, there is only one true King. One true Prince that will bring the Dawn," Stannis puffed up, smiling softly - not realizing that Melisandre had been intentionally vague. "Here stands your Lady, defeated by the grace of the Lord of Light. She has sided with the Queen of Lies, and now you shall behold the fate of those who choose the Darkness."

Soaked in pitch, the wood ignited almost immediately as Melisandre lit it with the torch. Stannis' smirk growing. "Your darkness will not survive the light, Dragon Queen," he murmured to himself. Selyse smiling zealously beside him.

"Gods have mercy on her," Davos breathed, turning away.

Randyll, close to him, only shrugged. "She made her choice. She chose wrong."

Pyre suddenly erupting high, tongues reaching up to lick at Olenna's feet, Melisandre stood back as the first pained squirms left the Queen of Thorns. "The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors."

"The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors."

The flames danced upward until they ran over Olenna's legs. Just seconds later the fires raced to the sky. Engulfing Lady Tyrell entirely, making it impossible to recognize who it was under the heat. Not a quick death, many of the onlookers turned away from the execution. From her quarters high in the keep, Shireen looked away just as Olenna's screams began to boom across the castle.

A/N: BRuh4: I hope this chapter cleared up some things. I hope you liked it. Though I'm sure there are a few who were again frustrated or dissatisfied. I will now speak those people directly. I've said this multiple times, and I'll say it again. If every chapter since 19 has pissed you off and you really don't think the two of us can effectively pull this off then please don't read our story. Please, I'm begging you. Stop flooding our comments with your dissatisfaction. I grow intensely tired of going on and on with the same four or five people who keep voicing grievances. Most likely we've said the same thing a few times over. If you want to ride this out with us then please do and do it in a polite way. But again, if it seems impossible to you for us to complete a satisfying story then do go read something else. There's thousands of other stories you can read, and if you don't like those write your own. I'm upset this has become the norm in our comments. I do not wish it to continue.

Polite discussions about the on-goings of our story are totally welcome. I enjoy looking through bunches of comments with y'all surmising the coming events. As long as you're not talking like you know what we're gonna do and saying how it won't work. Commenting over and over again saying the same shit after we've explained it or just venting how angry you are really makes me angry. I try my best not to be rude but I may find myself incapable if this continues.

That aside, we want to personally thank every person who has been constantly providing support and faith in us. You are awesome. Thank you for reading.

Longclaw: Daario was never acting on Dany's orders. Perhaps it was just frustration at what he thinks are her mistakes, or a desire to get back in her bed, he's essentially being overzealous in his loyalty and disobeying orders he things are not in Dany's best interests. Insubordination, but a specific type of insubordination.

Jon is understandably angry and wary of Daenerys, even as she basically humbled herself a bit in front of him. It was never going to be easy for them. First, Dany needs to see him as the type of ally she should have, while Jon has to no longer see her as the Mad Queen.

The Olenna scene... we thought it was just too good to pass up. The battle was based off the Battle of Poltava but with a different result.

BRuh and I are happy to answer comments, but we ask that y'all be respectful in them :)

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