A/N: Longclaw: Here's the promised update :D
With the Wuhan Virus going around, I hope everyone is staying safe and being diligent with their hygiene. We're going to get past this, my friends, and follow CDC or your corresponding government agency's guidelines in keeping clean and not spreading the virus around. For those self-quarantining and social distancing, both of us hope that this story can provide some respite from everything :D
Oh, let's say a prayer for Kristofer Hivju and Indira Varma to recover from the virus. Get well soon, Tormund and Ellaria!
BRuh4: Hello boys and girls, we've got some more conversations for you to read. I hope you like them. We sure do. We've been having a lot of fun writing the last couple of chapters. Then next few are going to be even better.
Enjoy.
Chapter 29: Admissions
Sleep did not come easy to Jon… hells, it barely came at all the last night. Whenever he closed his eyes dragonfire burned underneath his lids. The dancing flames of the battlefields torturing his soul. Thousands of his men dying, his own comrade in arms burned alive before his very eyes… Throughout the night, after mere minutes he would wake draped in sweat, skin burning, and heart with invisible shards stabbing through.
The latter not from the past… Melisandre's vision. The end of the line… Everything else had come true, only pain and death existing in his life since the Dragon Queen had entered his life.
Hours of laying on his cot, restless and sweltering, brought him upright. Giving up the idea of sleep. How can I sleep? Not with his mind punishing him… the whirlwind assaulting him after what had nearly happened in the caves. For my resolve was weak.
He needed to be honest with himself. Jon knew he had nearly kissed Daenerys Targaryen - that was what would have undoubtedly occurred had the Dothraki arriving not caused his senses to flood back. The faces of all the dead flashing in his mind and forcing him to pull away. Knowing that he was betraying them by even somewhat compromising with Daenerys. "Why did I do it?" Jon said into the darkness of his chambers. "How could I let myself be so weak?"
The Lord of Winterfell remembered what he thought at the time, of being worthy. Of the sudden infatuation with her beauty. Could it have just been about his isolation and the euphoria of seeing the dragonglass…
Yet… even then Jon knew his rationalization to be a lie. A comforting blanket to wrap around his body and assuage the guilt he felt for the dead. There was no escaping the fact that at that moment in the cave, he wanted to kiss her.
Nor was there any escape that even now, he imagined what that kiss would feel like.
The door to the chambers swung open. Unsullied guard stone-faced. "Visitor," he barked in a very heavy accent. Jon groaned. He didn't think he could take seeing Daenerys in the state he was in…
But while it was a Targaryen that entered, the dragon in question was far less beautiful yet far more welcome in the moment. At the stoop and wrinkled face, Jon stood up, smiling. "Maester Aemon." A larger figure squeezed in behind him. Jon's jaw dropped slightly, shocked to see his old friend. "Sam…"
A grunt left his lips as the acolyte enveloped him in a tight embrace. "Thank the gods above you're alive," Sam blubbered. "I had thought the worst for so long."
Hearing Jon wheeze, Aemon chuckled. "Sam, my boy. Put him down before he suffocates." Blushing red, Sam released him. Smiling sheepishly.
Jon inhaled deeply, filling his lungs. "I'm happy to see you too, Sam, but please let me breathe." They both chuckled. "Maester Aemon," he approached the older man. "Please, have a seat." He guided his literal mentor to the cot, easing him down. "I heard that you were here, but was in despair that I would actually see you."
"Oh, dear boy, I asked to see you. Your sister Sansa did send me for you after all."
"Yes, I had heard Sansa had you sent here. Though I don't know if you'll find any success," said Jon. "At this rate, I'll die on this island of old age."
"Don't fret, I think you'll be just fine," Sam said, smiling. "I met with the Queen. She was… engaging?"
"You can say it, Sam."
"She's pretty."
A blush… unavoidable. "Yes, I've noticed," Jon relented. "It was difficult not to notice." He wasn't made of stone. He had eyes. Daenerys was likely the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. His dislike of her ended up being the only thing stopping her from disarming him with her every breath. Over the last few days, he'd finally allowed himself to not be bothered by it. That he liked looking at her. That he wouldn't mind looking at her all the time. "Impossible to ignore."
"It was rather difficult to explain what I needed to tell her earlier. The beauty combined with her focus solely on me… my bones trembled," Sam said, recounting the interaction in his mind.
"You had a message for her?"
"Yes, but that's not important right now," Sam smirked. "We're here for Maester Aemon. But I'll let the two of you talk more privately." He smiled at Jon, "We'll catch up more later. I'll just be outside." Wordlessly, he got up and left Jon with Maester Aemon.
"Even at my age, I do have a mission of sorts," Aemon sported a toothy grin. "I'd like to solve this issue if I can."
"Maester Aemon, I don't know what you can do for me. It's all up to Daenerys."
"I'm not talking about that issue. I'm talking about you and her."
He frowned, looking away. "She's my captor and I'm her prisoner. There's nothing else to talk about."
"You know that's not true."
"And what if you're right?" Jon snapped bitterly. "You're a Targaryen, of course, you're here to defend her." All his confusion, his self-loathing and brooding… it manifested now as anger. "What she did was indefensible."
Did you think that when you almost kissed her?
When you wished you had kissed her? Those times were almost the entire night.
Though blind, it seemed Aemon could see into his soul. "She is my blood, dear boy. My family, but those at the Wall are my family too." He leaned forward. "I haven't heard it explicitly from you, so tell me why you hate my niece."
Jon scoffed. "I would think it obvious." She enchants me and I have no idea why. Beauty… he had met many beautiful women and only two had truly enchanted him. Ironically enough, he was a prisoner both times.
"Humor an old man, Jon."
A sigh left his lips. "I am no stranger to kings and conquerors. Yet she speaks of breaking the wheel except she's done nothing but perpetuate it so far."
"Breaking the wheel?"
"Something she talked about doing in Slaver's Bay. Ending the cycle of oppression for the common folk, but Daenerys is just another spoke."
Aemon raised an eyebrow. "I would think freeing slaves would show one out of the realm of the past."
"For Slaver's Bay, perhaps. But this isn't Slaver's Bay. The smallfolk of Westeros are free and just want to live and be happy… all the Dragon Queen has done is burn them with dragonfire."
The maester pursed his lips, nodding thoughtfully. "Aegon, Maegor, the sides of the Dance… all used dragons and most are viewed unfavorably for just that reason. But what of Tywin Lannister? He served in three wars in which massive atrocities happened. The Boltons… their sigil was of an atrocity. Robert Baratheon laughed at the corpses of children." He sought not to diminish what Daenerys had done, but add context. Make Jon think.
Jon shook his head. "That is different, Maester Aemon. They are but men. Daenerys… she has dragons." A field of battle, awash with flame. The smell of burnt meat as vividly present as it was in the moment. His voice grew hard. "She has no compunction when using them on her enemies."
"But Stannis did it," Aemon said. "You saw it. He burned Mance. On the boat ride over, Sam told me of some current… ongoings of the country. He told me Stannis had burned Olenna after taking Highgarden. Let me ask you this, my boy, what danger was she to him after taking her castle?"
There was little Jon could do to rationalize those decisions - and gods did he oppose them. He gave Mance the mercy of an arrow to the heart, while he knew in his heart that had he been with Stannis at Highgarden, the side of mercy would have had him among their ranks. "I can't speak in support of that. But one person at the stake is different than a flying beast that can incinerate thousands at will."
"They are not beasts, they are my children…"
Children… Two amber eyes trained on him. Did they seem truly as monstrous as he saw Ghost's to be?
"If House Stark... or House Baratheon or Lannister had dragons... wouldn't they use them similarly?" He received no answer, Jon merely staring at him. Digesting the implication.
"In all fairness to you, maester," he finally said. "But they have no dragon blood. Nor any Dragons. I used to admire the conquerors, the great dragonlords of the past, but after seeing them in action…" He shook his head, not willing to relive the fire.
"Daenerys was set on this path long ago," Aemon confessed. "She is the standard-bearer of our House, all that's left of what was once a great dynasty. Nothing will stop her now, she will do what she deems necessary." Before Jon could speak, Aemon reached out and grabbed his hand. "But only what's necessary."
He knit his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Jon, my boy, she could've burned you all," Aemon told him. "But she didn't. Instead, she spared you and your friends that survived. She didn't have to do that. She gave you a choice."
"Oh, please," Jon pulled a face and rolled his eyes, pulling his hand away. "With a fire breathing dragon hanging over you, there is no choice."
"Isn't that just an easy choice? There was a choice, and it was clear."
"Maester Aemon, you weren't there," Jon sighed. "The only one of my men brave enough to stand was The Blackfish. Who Daenerys had the nerve to burn to ash in front of everyone. I'll never forgive her for that."
The maester sighed. "Was it really brave, Jon? Choosing death when one doesn't have to? And it wasn't even protecting his family either… I know because I've faced such a choice." He remembered declining the throne, protecting Egg from a succession crisis. "Ser Brynden Tully had a nephew, who has a family. Wouldn't it have been braver for him to swallow his pride and instead guided his nephew through Lordship…"
"Doesn't matter… honor above all…"
"Dying like that isn't brave, Jon. It's foolish. Your Lord Father knew better."
Jon's eyes narrowed. "Don't talk about my father."
But Aemon was on a roll. "We all know what happened. He confessed in order to be set free - regardless of how mad Joffrey was to kill him, he set aside his honor to live for his family. " Reaching forward to give Jon a friendly pat on the arm, he was relieved he didn't jerk away. "Think of your family… wouldn't they have been better served with your father alive?"
In essence, Jon completely understood what Aemon was saying. But that didn't make it easier to imagine it without feeling deeply saddened. Had not been for Joffery's madness, his Lord Father would've lived. It would've changed everything. Robb wouldn't have died at the Twins. Sansa and Arya wouldn't have been separated or endured what they had to. Perhaps his father might've finally told him about his mother, had they seen each other again.
"Had the roles been reversed, you and the Blackfish. Would you have made the same choice? Preserve your honor or live on for your house? If you made such a foolish choice, your family would never forgive you. It's needless. It was pointless for Brynden to give up his life. No gained anything, not even him, for he died anyway."
Jon admired Brynden. He'd hoped they might have developed a stronger relationship. Daenerys put a stop to that. But Jon couldn't deny Aemon statements. Jon didn't know what he would've done, having a dragon stare him down with murderous intent. He did know that he clouded that moment in sheer anger towards Daenerys, without recognizing Brynden's part of it.
"Regardless of the motivation of choices, Ser Brynden made one," Aemon resumed. "Surely, he knew the outcome of refusing to bend the knee. Do you truly blame Daenerys for acting on her word?"
Grim, Jon stared at him. "I blame her for roasting my friend in front of my eyes." But his tone held no anger - merely hollow.
"Perhaps my niece was foolish to have offered him such a choice. Perhaps Ser Brynden was foolish to take such a fate, but it is the world we live in." He put up two hands, as if a scale. "If not a dragon, then the blade of an executioner as poor Eddard Stark endured. Or the stake as Mance Rayder endured." He could hear Jon wince at that. "Tied to a stake while regular fire roasts one alive… that is far more excruciating pain, is it not?"
What could one say to that? Brynden died instantly, while Mance suffered such agony Jon took pity and delivered a mercy blow to the heart.
Aemon loved Jon - as he had said to Sam on the boat, the boy reminded him so much of his beloved brother. He didn't wish to bring him anguish or self-doubt. Just get him in the right mind to see… "Often, you speak of Stannis as the best option. Saying he's nothing like Daenerys. Did he not offer Mance Rayder the very same choice my niece offered you and your men? For the same reasons as Brynden, Mance refused. But it meant absolutely nothing. They both died for nothing."
"It was pointless." Grief filled his gaze. "They didn't deserve to die."
"I'm sorry, Jon," Aemon continued, reaching for his hand again. Jon met him halfway, as soft as he could. "Mance and Brynden were two men you respected greatly. Still, they didn't have to die. It was them that chose it."
"It wasn't them who demanded the choice…" Jon croaked softly.
"Daenerys was the one who killed Brynden. But it wasn't her that forced the action." Old and stooped, Aemon looked every year he was alive. Blind, withered, a husk of a Prince of a mighty house… but his mind was still as sharp as when he was a young maester, and it showed. "Even the Free Folk knelt, so it wasn't as if the choice was hard to understand. But why did Dany give you the opportunity to?" There was silence, a pregnant pause. "Giving her prisoners what had to be a long time to convince a recalcitrant wildling to bend the knee… when she could have easily just killed him right there? Is that not the definition of restraint?" Aemon chuckled. "You seem to only see Daenerys through a lens that's been given to you. Try to develop your own understanding of her. Don't let outside forces affect your perception."
Deep down, Jon felt immense guilt for both. For allowing each to be brought into harm's way. For them being given the choice of their honor or their lives. And yet, he didn't blame Stannis for Mance, but did for Daenerys. Why was that? What caused him to be such a hypocrite?
He knew the answer. "Anyone who knows a dragon would know how much death they would cause in battle." It was just too much power to wield, that could turn even the strongest will to madness.
Sighing, Aemon tapped his fingers together. While he had dreamed for so long to feel a dragon's scales under his palms, any with the blood of Aegon the Conqueror knew of how they were used to bring ruin to their house. Not the dragons. Men riding them did. "A tool is a tool, a weapon is a weapon."
"A dragon is not a weapon, it is a harbinger of death." Jon had seen it first hand. "Anyone who uses one condones the greatest sort of brutality."
"Your brother used his direwolf in a similar way." That hit close to home. "The famous Young Wolf and Grey Wind, terrors of Westermen. Different only in degree?" He coughed, hacking up specks of phlegm into a rag he carried.
Jon leaned forward. "Should I fetch Sam?"
He waved him off. "No, it's quite alright." Coughing again into the rag, Aemon's breaths grew raspy but his voice still held resolve. "Did not Tywin Lannister utilize the Mountain that Rides to engage in such brutality? One born not out of necessity but out of convenience. The death of my family - women and mere babes - to send a message."
Children dying. Innocents dying. All of it weighed on Jon. "I've seen enough death, maester Aemon. Grief, sorrow, pain… the only one who welcomes it is the Night King." More meat for his army. "I just wish Daenerys could see that."
"I think she does."
The Lord of Winterfell felt tired. Sick of it all, the anger long having left him. "Then why? Why does she continue to spill blood so extensively?" That woman in the caves, small and soft… Jon felt like she would understand the futility of war. Of bloodshed. Perhaps he couldn't understand how she and the Dragon Queen could be the same person?
Leaning back, Aemon rubbed his arms, putting warmth into them. "I can't answer for Daenerys' mind, only that she has suffered as much as you have. But I do know something about war. In war, there will be deaths - all that can be done is to spare the ones we can."
"I would've spared them... Brynden and Mance," Jon said quietly. His last bit of condemnation to Daenerys. "I would've shown mercy. Perhaps what you say is true, their deaths didn't need to happen. They made their own choices. But it also could've been easily avoided. Stannis could've stopped it beforehand, and Daenerys didn't need to burn Brynden."
"You may think you wouldn't. But despite the goodness in you, that only carries someone so far. It only takes one moment to change a life. Were the roles reversed, you may have acted similarly."
"I wouldn't have," Jon was sure.
Aemon smiled, unseeing eyes were glassy with tears. "You are a good man, Jon Stark." Unlike Alliser Thorne or all the men that gave advice to his father, such a statement was the greatest praise. "But this world, can you truly blame Daenerys for choosing the opposite tactic? She never had a father's love. The care of a sibling, or blood brothers that would die for you." Jon, compared to most, was lucky that way. So was Aemon. He never knew one day of his youth without the love of his brothers and uncles. "A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, and she's been alone for far longer than mercy dictates." Then, he coughed, wheezing from his lungs to the point of pain, by the hard frown across the old man's face. Jon rose to try to comfort him.
The noise must have carried through the door because moments later, Sam burst into the room, somewhat panicked. "I think it's time for you to rest, Maester. You've had a long day." Nodding, Aemon allowed the acolyte to haul him up. Before they left, Sam looked back to Jon and said, "Wights die to fire, do they not?" Then the door shut, leaving Jon alone once more.
Jon sat back in his chair, trying to properly allow Maester Aemon's wisdom to permeate his mind. Many things had been said. In the end, he felt himself see Daenerys in a different way, perception of her truly muddled by outside forces. Yet, he had seen plenty for himself. The person he saw burn thousands seemed separate from the woman he witnessed in the dragonglass cave. Like two completely different people. But in reality, it was just Daenerys.
He wanted more from the woman in the cave. Aemon had allowed him to see her from a different perspective. Her side. While he didn't agree with it, he understood it. They'd been running in circles for a while, except it felt like they met in the middle in the cave. He wanted to go back there with her. The middle. Where they both stood on even ground, with no one to watch over them.
At the same time, he couldn't forget what he'd seen. Likely couldn't even if he wanted to. That black dragon sweeping over the battlefield, fire shooting from its mouth. It was etched into his mind forever. Somehow though, he'd try to set that aside. For the good of the North, Aemon was right. Daenerys was a powerhouse he could have on his side. The Night King would get there before he knew it. Fire kills wights.
Perhaps it was worth it to work it out with Daenerys. Despite their differences. But seven hells, it would be hard.
Suddenly, his wrath was lessened. He took a deep breath and buried it. Not forever, for wrath might help him in the coming wars.
Below decks, Davos, Melisandre, the captain, and his first mate gathered around a table. On top laid a drawn map of Dragonstone. A lantern hung from the ceiling, swaying from side to side as the ship cruised over rough waves.
"The only option is to seek in," Davos sighed, rubbing his face to provide some relief. Only some. "Not likely we could walk in the front gates without being littered with arrows."
"You know Dragonstone well," Melisandre said. "You know a secret way in."
Davos stared at her, the things she'd say had stopped surprising him long ago. Of course, the Red Woman would know. "I do. If approached at night, with the lanterns out, we could appear without them knowing. Leave the ship anchored and out of sight. With a small crew, hop on a skiff. We need to come from the Northside." Slowly, Davos pointed out on the map, trying to make sure he got it right. "There, along the beachhead, there's a loose piece of stone. It can be easily pushed aside. With torches and flint we'll find a winding staircase that leads deep into the castle. From there it shouldn't be too difficult to find the cells."
"Why are we doing this again?" the captain asked, hesitantly. Named Farrow, a decent enough fellow. But he knew the dangers of being caught sneaking inside this particular castle. Not just executed, but perhaps roasted alive. All had heard of the Dragon Queen's children, especially the big black one.
"Because I'm paying you. Also, King Stannis told me to," Davos said. "Also because Jon is a dear friend of mine, and I care for him. Seven hells, who knows what's been happenin' to him all this time?"
"How do you know he's alive?"
"Jon Stark is alive," Melisandre answered. "The Lord of Light isn't done with him yet."
"How sure are you of this secret path?" The first mate wanted to know.
"Well, I used it to help a friend escape once," Davos said. "I highly doubt the Dragon Queen even knows about it."
"So, what? We sneak in. Get your boy and sneak back out?" Farrow questioned.
"Ideally, yes, if we run into heavy resistance, we figure it out. Hopefully, it won't come to that because I'm not much of a fighter."
"All will be fine," Melisandre told them, looking every person in the eyes. "Our presence is the only thing that can save Jon Stark. We must go." Cryptic, but the sentiment was fine with Davos.
Captain Farrow exhaled, scratching the back of his neck, "Alright, we should be nearing Dragonstone in a few days. We'll stop just out of vision as you requested."
"Thank you, Captain," Davos said. Silently, the captain and his first mate walked out. Leaving Davos with the Red Woman. Davos often wondered of her need to come with him, or why Stannis allowed it given their history. "I think you unnerve the men," He told her.
"My effect on them is for them to decide. I am what I am."
"Aye, I suppose so."
Melisandre encroached on his space as she often did with everyone. She had noticed a hesitancy in his face and inflection of his voice during the explanation of their plan. "Something's on your mind. Tell me."
"Nothin'."
"You know it's impossible to lie to me."
"Damn you," Davos murmured, looking away for a moment, before returning his weathered gaze. "I'm just worried about Jon, is all. And I feel like we're walking into a trap."
"They have no idea we're coming," Melisandre said, and shook her head. "The Dragon Queen will have much more to worry about than us sneaking into her castle."
"What about Jon?"
"Hmm… Well, as I said, he lives. We're here to make sure he stays that way," Melisandre smirked. "Don't worry, Ser Davos. All will be fine."
With that, she floated out of the room. Davos had a deep scowl on his face like nearly every time he interacted with the Red Woman. "Well, that did nothin' to ease my worries," he muttered.
If the gods existed - any gods, for Daenerys had known many - they had a rather sick sense of humor. "It seems you haven't lost a bit of your… charm, Captain Naharis." The Queen, Tyrion, and Daario gathered in the Painted Table room for a small meeting. Dany sat at the end as per usual. Tyrion resided to her left, clutching a full glass of wine. Daario stood before them, looking giddy as he always does.
Missing several fingers and wearing a high-collared shirt to mask several… unflattering scars, the same wicked smirk that had once stoked her arousal hadn't diminished one bit. "It would be a shame to the Queens of the world if I lost it, don't you think?" he replied with his own question. "Your Grace," Daario added for posterity.
"The only other Queen in existence is my sister…" Tyrion said with a frown. "Unless you mean Lady Selyse?"
"I'm sure they'd think so, but they are not the Queen I chose." His eyes never left Daenerys, his voice rather suggestive.
What am I to do about him? Even pain and humiliation hadn't slowed him down. "I appreciate your continued fealty to me, Captain, but I fear you haven't learned your lesson."
"Oh no, I certainly have." With the expression of a chastised puppy, he held up his mutilated hand. "You made it quite clear that I would have to show better judgment."
Somehow, Daenerys detected an undercurrent in his words. But perhaps she was paranoid. "You served me well in the North, Daario, along with delivering my uncle to me promptly. Therefore I shall grant you a combat command."
Something flashed in his eyes for a split second. "On the mainland?"
"Did you think of anything different?" Eying Tyrion warily, she nevertheless felt to nip this in the bud. "If you wish for a posting on the island to worm your way into my bed, you can dash such a hope."
"I would never presume such, your Grace. But if you decide…"
"I meant what I said in Meereen, Daario. My mind is made up. Now..." In a fortunate turn of events for her, Dany had a task to get him out of her sight. "Theon Greyjoy will arrive any hour now. Go to the beach and retrieve him for me. Explain the situation."
Thankfully choosing not another word, Daario bowed and made his exit.
"He desires your body greatly," Tyrion mused, going for a flagon of wine. "I've only seen a few men so persistent."
Daenerys scowled. "He'd better learn his lesson."
The Imp poured himself a goblet off the fine Dornish red. Sour, but plentiful. "I told you he wouldn't be the last to love you. Nor would he be the only dangerous lover for you to set your eyes on."
The Queen narrowed her eyes. "Speak, Tyrion. It is clear you have something specific on your mind."
There was a moment of pensive silence. "I heard about you and Jon Stark in the dragonglass cave," Tyrion said, hiding his smirk behind his wine glass.
"What of it?" Dany replied, turning away.
Tyrion laughed, "I haven't seen this in a while."
"What?" Dany turned back with some heat to her tone. "You've got another one of your stunning revelations for me?"
"A woman in love."
Dany opened her mouth to retort, raising her hand. Yet she shook her head instead. "I'm not in love."
Another laugh from the Imp. "No? That's the look my brother always used to give my sister, though you are prettier than him… not by much though."
She glared for a moment, only to sigh. "I'm not sure I fully know what love feels like. I don't know that I've ever experienced it before." Taking a seat, Daenerys pinched the bridge of her nose. "But I know what it isn't. He is my enemy."
"An enemy you are so desperately trying to win to your side," Tyrion said. He decided to test her. "As far as I can tell, we've made no progress. You might as well cast him into the sea. He'll never bend the knee."
Dany's reply was rather quick. "No. He will come to his senses."
"What that he's ever done makes you come to that conclusion? All he's given us has been pushback or insane rantings about myths and stories." Tyrion pointed out. "Besides, what use is he to us?"
"Any further push to execute Jon Stark might lead to you losing all access to wine," Dany threatened.
"Now, why do you defend him? If anything, I should be the one defending him against the Queen Daenerys I knew months ago roasting anyone alive that stood up to her," Tyrion told her, watching her reaction closely. "So, tell me. Why is he still alive? I know, myself. I just wanna see if you do."
"Quit with this game you're playing with me or it might be you cast into the sea," Dany answered, huffing.
"Seems to me, you're in denial," Tyrion said. The Queen shot him a deathly glare, in response, he held his hands up. "Don't be angry with me, I'm just the messenger."
"I am not in love with Jon Stark," Dany retorted as harshly as she could muster. She willed the words to be true, yet even as they left her tongue she couldn't be sure.
"Oh? Of course not," Tyrion shrugged, gesturing his hands into the air. "It just seems all peculiar to me."
"How so?"
"I saw you. I was there when the two of you came out of the cave," said Tyrion, narrowing his gaze at her. "You two looked like you committed a murder and got away with it."
The Queen ran a hand along her braided hair, not wanting to say too much about what happened. Tyrion would have a field day with her if he knew what happened. Besides, she knew not exactly what it was herself. "We examined the dragonglass."
"Nothing else?" Tyrion raised his eyebrows.
"Well, there was something else. We found these cave paintings or carvings," Dany admitted, lowering her brow. "The walls were covered in ancient murals."
"Murals of what?"
"I don't rightly know. He understood it better than I."
Tyrion began to laugh. But shut his mouth quickly realizing Daenerys was serious. "Oh, I legitimately thought you jest. Truly?"
"Yes," Dany said with a nod. "I saw it all."
"What are the murals of?" Tyrion asked her.
Then Dany pursed her lips and looked away. "Grumpkins and Snarks. The ice monsters beyond the Wall."
"Gods be good, has he convinced you now?" Tyrion sighed. His eyes examined her unchanged countenance. "Some pictures scratched on some rocks have you believing in fairy tales?"
"I didn't say that," Dany replied. "I've just only now begun to recognize the possibility he's telling the truth. Do you think Jon Stark to be a liar or a madman?"
"No," Tyrion answered plainly.
"Perhaps when I first met him. I would've called him a madman. But now… everything's changed. The time he spent in that cell would've ruined anyone else. Instead, he seemed to relish my attempts. Spouting on long about these ice monsters and the Night King. A normal person would call him mad. But I don't think Jon Stark to be mad."
"As I've said, I don't think he's mad either. Regardless, he is a lost cause. He will never turn to our side. At this juncture, I don't think we should expect him to."
Dany sighed, "I don't want to give up."
Halting in place, Tyrion looked up at her. "Are you saying that because you want the North to be subjugated, or are you saying that because you want him here?"
Despite being a flagrant drunkard, Daenerys had to admit that the Imp truly could think his way to the heart of a problem. "Both, I suppose."
"Why both? I can understand wishing to secure the North, but what is so special about Jon Stark?" He knew why… hells, he had said it. But there was a justification there that she would use and Tyrion wanted to know.
"Because he is a good man." It all went back to Missandei's words - she had pinpointed it before any of them. "He is an ally I need. One that I truly believe can help me build a better world rather than the monsters and the backstabbers you dealt with."
A good answer, one Tyrion couldn't refute on the merits. But he knew there was more than she was telling. "I just want you to admit it."
She blinked. "Admit what?"
"Admit that you have grown to care for Jon Stark." As shocking as it would be - neither Stannis nor Cersei would bother to even look at a foe before having them killed - here Daenerys was, growing close to Lord Stark. Likely best I don't question the act itself. He had been her enemy once, after all. But Jon didn't bend the knee...
"Perhaps I care for Jon Stark more than I admit," Dany confessed.
"Why?" A simple question without a simple answer.
"I don't know if I can explain it. He has an effect on me that no other man ever has. It's just… him."
It stretched the point of incredulity for Tyrion. "He was your enemy, Stannis' master of war. What happened in the cave? Can you just tell me that?" She said nothing. "You saw the dragonglass and some nonsensical murals. I know something else must have happened between the two of you," Tyrion leaned forward in his chair, setting his wine glass aside. "What changed between you?"
The Queen looked away from him, exhaling. She retreated out of her chair and out onto the balcony. Her hands laid on the stone banister. Wishing she had something else to squeeze until it would shatter. Even closing her eyes, trying to lower her heart rate. Since her time in the dragonglass cave, she'd relived it in her mind. Feeling lighter than she had for some time, maybe ever. Just two people, in a moment sweeter than she realized snuffed out just at the apex... A feeling she'd since longed to return.
She knew these thoughts to be true. Despite that, she was a Queen. The one true Queen. The moment shared with Jon Stark was pleasant, truly, it was. Yet, she cannot set aside her ambition for a Lord of an enemy House. Tyrion's words rang true in her mind, Jon Stark would never bend the knee. They should no longer expect him to. He is still my enemy and will never be my subject… though he does not have to be either. Perhaps she'd only wasted precious time trying to sway him. The North can give you nothing. He'd said it himself.
Still, her heart sang a different song. How handsome he was, even under layers of dirt. Even as she first laid eyes on the man. It stirred things in her that hadn't been startled in a very long time. Feelings bubbled up that she hadn't seen since the first time she laid with Daario. But those same feelings disappeared some time ago. Whenever she looked at him, her body would react in subtle ways. She was excellent at hiding it. Just so happened she didn't care to hide anything about her feelings in the dragonglass cave. Many parts of her wanted to further explore what it meant to appreciate Jon Stark.
Care for him… perhaps even love him. She chuckled inwardly. Love… A thought so alien to her that she couldn't truly grasp it - was this the beginnings of it? With an enemy, no less?
"I believe the best option is to let Jon go," Tyrion said, appearing from behind her.
She suddenly turned, eyes widening. "Let him go?" Dany scoffed, staring at him. "After all that he's seen?"
"Not like he's seen our battleplans, he hasn't. It's the right thing to do after all he's suffered at your hands," Tyrion tried to explain his thought process. "Jon will never bend the knee. It's the only option. You can't execute him, less the North revolts and never kneels for you. He's distracted us from Cersei for long enough. Stannis will march on King's Landing sooner rather than later, thousands will die. Let Jon Stark go home, he's no threat to us. Swear him to neutrality, and send him on his way."
"What of after the war? What then? What happens when I wear the crown?"
"Then we return our attention to the North. With luck, they will be more receptive to the Queen who returned their Lord seemingly unharmed."
Dany returned her gaze back out the open air. Her eyes naturally wandered over the beachside. "I suppose I could give him the dragonglass as well."
"The obsidian? I wager Lord Stark would greatly appreciate that. Besides, you have no use for it."
"Yes," Dany whispered, somewhat breathless. Now her mind thought of what it would like for Jon to leave. Her heart began to feel tight, thinking of what might be. But her mind told her he'd only be a distraction from what really mattered.
"Think of this, what do you have to gain?" Tyrion asked her in a serious tone. "That is what every decision people make is about, what do you have to gain? When I look at Jon Stark, I see, raw power. Pointed at the right thing, he's unstoppable. You give him a purpose, and a sword in his hands. His will is stronger than any other man I've seen. Any other man would have broken before your might. They would've bent the knee right in front of your dragon. But he didn't, and still won't. Despite that, when I look at Jon Stark, I see nothing to be gained. There's no point further waging this mental uphill battle."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because of what you've done to him, burning his friends, keeping him captive, allowing him to be beaten..."
"Daario did that without my consent… disobeying my direct instructions!" she hissed, defending herself.
He held up his hands. "I know. But the fact is he felt nothing but pain by being in your care." Tyrion sighed, trying to help her understand.
"What about what he wants?" Dany asked him, a bit pleading. "What if he wanted to stay?"
Tyrion frowned, "I'm sorry, Your Grace, I'd be aghast if he wanted to stay here. I highly doubt he'd not choose to return to his homeland. The South is not for Starks." Then his eyes widened, "Oh… I see."
"It's not that-"
Tyrion interjected, "I think we've done all we can. I don't know if he'd ever bend the knee, even if he loved you. As we sit here, talking about him, he may love you. But I don't think it matters because he won't act on it. He'll bury it. I know he'll bury it because I've done the same thing." The Imp gave a tiny, bittersweet grin. "Dwarves and Bastards, you see, we're a lot alike. I know what it's like to feel pointless love."
"Pointless love…" The words fluttered off Dany's tongue in a low tone. Quieter than Tyrion could hear. Two words meant for Jon, yet they resonated with her nevertheless.
"What do you say, Your Grace?"
Dany kept her eyes on the vast ocean. "I will allow him to return to the North. I will allow him to return with his men to mine the dragonglass. He can have the whole cave worth for all I care."
Tyrion nodded, even though she wasn't looking at him. "This is the correct choice, My Queen."
"You'd better hope so," she said bitingly, though Tyrion figured it wasn't truly directed at him.
"Tonight, I'll go see Jon," he offered. "I can be the one to tell him."
"No, I wish to speak with him one more time," Dany said suddenly, and sternly. "I will tell him."
From a loose crack in one of the walls, the sellsword drew back from where his ear was pressed to the opening - dismissed but not having left. Good thing I didn't. Eyes widening at the words his Queen spoke, teeth grinding in anger at having been proved more right than even he thought possible. Wordlessly, he slunk away, plotting his next move.
Trembling slightly, Theon Greyjoy managed to stay firm as the skiff bobbed in the water, oarsmen heaving through the swells and tides to reach the shore. Leaning on his knee as the bright red orb of the dawn sun cast its first rays upon the bay. Even though he essentially grew up in Winterfell without a body of water in sight, even he seemed a natural… perhaps it was an Ironborn trait, mastering the seas.
Leading men was not one of them, however… or bravery. Which was why he had no cock and Yara was dead. Looking up at the dark facade of Dragonstone, Theon willed his mind not to think of those loved ones dead but rather on the ones alive. Sansa, Rickon, Arya… Jon… While he and Jon had little in common, the former Bastard of Winterfell had given him a chance - it seemed so long ago. I will not let him down again. The poor Lord needed someone in his corner in the Dragon Queen's court.
Once the skiff's keel smacked into the sandbar, Theon and the other sailors leapt out. Grabbing onto hooks to drag it ashore. "Come on, lads!" he called out, trying to be a leader.
"Theon Greyjoy!" Theon looked up to see a figure standing with several Unsullied guards. Beard styled and a grin on his face. "Welcome back to Dragonstone."
It took a moment for Theon to place the face. "Naharis." He wasn't close to the sellsword. Little opinion of him since arriving from Meereen, though giving him a wide berth since he unsuccessfully tried to entice Yara into his bed. Wasn't he the Queen's lover? "You're my welcoming committee?"
He shrugged. "You're a vital member of the Queen's council. She'd send someone important to escort you up. Brief you on what happened."
Theon's eyes narrowed. "I am a vital member? I'm not arrogant anymore, sellsword. At best I rate near the second tier."
"Alright." Daario sighed, spreading his arms out apologetically. "Perhaps the Queen and I have been quarreling. Normal spats in high fatigue…"
"Lover's quarrel?" Once the skiff was secured on the beach, Theon followed Daario to the staircase. "What did you do? Put your cock in the wrong hole?" He really wasn't in the mood to deal with the sellsword's small talk, and his irritation showed.
There was a short silence. "Something like that," he finally said. "In any case, she tasked me early this morning to inform you of the lay of the land. The Crownlands up to Rosby and Stokeworth are in our hands."
"A beachhead… a small one, but enough to damage Cersei. Go on."
"I would tell you what I know of Dorne… but you just came from there." Daario chuckled. "The North has declared neutrality, and we've imprisoned their Lord as a hostage."
Jon… "Is he unharmed?"
"As much as the Queen will allow, though she is pretty impatient with the whole situation at this point. The Khalasar bowed to her when she killed their Khals, so should the North when she defeated their armies and captured their Lord."
"The North will never bend or break," Theon replied. "And neither will Jon. May I see him?"
Daario shook his head. "No, the Queen wants you to inform her Hand and Lord Tyrion of the message from Dorne. If she then permits you to see him, then you can."
"And when would she permit me to see him? A familiar face might allow him to see reason and end this madness before any more northerners are killed."
As if I care about those frozen cunts… "Let me put it this way, he is under tight guard against lone visitors due to… unseemly behavior in the past." Then Daario looked behind him to make sure no one was within earshot. Theon was surprised to see him lean close. "But, since you're my friend, I'll see what I can do about letting you see him. I've got connections. Perhaps, later tonight, the Queen will call for Jon Stark to be brought before her in the Throne Room. I'll put in a good word for you. See if the Queen might let you escort him yourself." Daario said, slapping Theon on the back. "But, it might be that she refuses. In that case, forgive me, but those are her orders."
Theon frowned but sighed. "Her orders are her orders." The two men ascended the steps one by one, not another word passed.
A/N: BRuh4: Aemon gives some wisdom. Tyrion gives Dany some hard truths. We came up with some cool ideas for this one. Both Dany and Jon came to some conclusions we were happy with. They just needed a bit of help. I'm not gonna comment to much on it because I think it speaks for itself. Though I do invite a civil conversation if you feel the need to say something. But one thing I will say, if this chapter didn't hit for you. That's your perception, our perception is that it does. And listen, this stuff still feels forced to you then... well, I got nothing more to say. I've said it all before.
Longclaw: Lot of character interaction. I largely think these were the best parts of the show other than the realism of the battles and the Jonerys chemistry. Aemon provides the family patriarch dynamic to his hidden great-great nephew, while Daenerys gets her brain picked by Tyrion. Her decisions may look political, but there's emotion in it.
Dany's not in love with Jon yet. Tyrion can just... see the trendline I bet. Still a long way to go, though.
Theon's back... and I think he's still a bit of a fool.
Tell your friends.