A/N: Longclaw: Glad to see everyone here for another chapter! In spite of the trolls, we're still here.

BRuh4: Hey everyone, here we are, back again. We were glad for the support after the last one. We weren't sure of the reaction we'd get. Thankfully most of you understand what the deal is. Jon dying is important to his arc.

Anyhoo, here's this one. Pretty solid I think.

Three cheers for Kristofer Hivju's recovery!

Enjoy.

Chapter 31: Wounds

"Jon Stark is dead."

A fair, beautiful face framed by flame-kissed hair and errant snowflakes falling from the sky furrowed her brows. "What?" She didn't seem to hear what her brother said.

Bran Stark used to feel a massive jolt each time he emerged from the sight… a painful thud into the ground that reminded the boy of the moment in which the Lion of House Lannister pushed him out the window. The physical was dwarfed by the emotional agony, remembering the most traumatic moment of his life.

The figure that emerged from the power of the weirwood felt nothing. If anything, the life within - seeing everything that has happened and was happening - was preferable to the world from the eyes of a crippled boy. Preferable to have to deal with the annoying kin that this vessel seemed to inhabit. At least the previous vessel was a mighty warrior from the line of the dragon. Everything here was… simply mundane.

But the confused expression on the face of Sansa Stark did provide a certain sort of enjoyment. "Bran, don't stay silent. What are you trying to say…?"

"Your brother is dead." He said suddenly. "We saw the whole thing. Stabbed in the back, stabbed in the stomach, and stabbed in the heart, he didn't die that quickly," Bran explained slowly, zero inflection in his voice. "He died an hour ago."

Sansa needed support, falling against one of the trees. Her breathing became panicked. "How?... How do you know all this?"

"We told you. We..."

"Saw it?" Sansa finished for him, voice trembling from grief. "I'm sorry but that doesn't make any sense to me. Explain yourself… please."

"Our eyes are everywhere. We knew what was happening. We were inside Dragonstone, saw everything."

"What happened to him?" she choked out. Sansa didn't cry, not anymore. Ramsay enjoyed crying, so she made sure not to… but even she couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Stabbed in the back," he commented without a hint of emotion. "Stabbed in the stomach, and stabbed..."

"Stabbed in the heart, I know. Who killed Jon?"

"A man named Daario Naharis."

"Who's that?"

"You know nothing of the man. He's a sellsword, the one that Brienne of Tarth dealt with at White Harbor. Daenerys Targaryen's lover." That had the intended reaction in Sansa's anger. "However, Theon Greyjoy was there."

Sansa gasped. "Theon?"

"Yes, he tried mightily. To save your brother, but he failed miserably," Bran told her. "It was no use. You see. Your brother was going to die either way."

Sansa exhaled, "He's your brother too."

"He's not. We have no brothers… or sisters. Jon Stark is Brandon's brother, as you are his sister."

The acting Lady of Winterfell breathed hard, gathering herself. She stared at Bran, with a hint of anger. "I don't know who I see. I don't know who you are. Can I even believe what you say?"

"Believe what you wish. But we have told you the truth," said Bran in response. "The Dragon Queen likely won't let word leave the castle. She won't want the North to know that their Lord died under her roof. Yet, she cannot account for us. We've seen it all before."

Unable to further speak, Sansa pushed herself off the tree. Her eyes locked on Bran intensely, but her mind was so full of concern for Jon. She couldn't muster an argument with Bran. Talking with him now only confused and infuriated her. Nothing he said ever made sense to her.

Only as she left, her back to Bran did the tears begin to flow.

Unable to stop pacing, Dany needed somewhere to put all her pent up anger. Jon had died, right under her nose. There was nothing she could do about it now. There was nothing left but fury. No one had any idea what had happened. Their only witness, Theon Greyjoy, was in critical condition. Beaten to an inch of his life and knocked out. Leaving her people searching for answers.

She gathered her top advisors around the Painted Table, waiting for any ideas.

"Someone better start talking," she said.

"Your Grace," Barristan said gently. "Perhaps you should retire to your quarters, get some sleep…"

"No," she stated firmly.

Tyrion sighed. "No good decisions were made by angered rulers."

Halting for a moment, she stared daggers at Tyrion. "No, I think the problems occurred here when I wasn't being angry or emotional enough!" Stuffing away my feelings, letting the last time I would ever see Jon Stark end so… Daenerys resumed her pacing at the head of the Painted Table. She loved Jon Stark, but would never get to tell him. All because of the idiotic desire to spare herself pain.

And yet the pain is worse now.

"Please, your Grace," Missandei urged, her eyes wide with concern and empathy. "At least change your dress."

Glancing down, Dany noticed the white fabric stained with dried blood. Jon's blood. The blood of her late love. Something told her she should be disgusted with it. Petrified of it… but Daenerys wasn't. "I want them all to see. I want the person responsible to see just how this act has affected me."

Looking at each other, the three senior advisers understood her state. The dragon had awoken, masking the greatest grief with fire and blood. Not shocking, and it would keep her going through this… but eventually, she would fall. Hard. They would have to prepare for it.

"Someone better give me some semblance of answers," Dany told the room once Grey Worm arrived, having personally seen to the new guard stations. "How did this happen?"

"We're not sure," Barristan sighed. "I had been assured Jon was in his quarters. It seems someone sent Theon to get him. The guards didn't think anything of it. I don't blame them."

"Don't blame them?" Dany nearly roared. "They allowed my most valued prisoner to leave their quarters after dark."

Grey Worm stepped forward then, "I'm sorry, my Queen. This is my fault."

"The guards weren't well informed enough," Missandei added. "They saw Theon as your councilor and figured it was alright." She sighed. "It was a mistake, yes. But there's nothing we can do about that now."

"What is Theon Greyjoy's condition?" Tyrion asked. "Will he live? He's the only one who can give us answers."

"The healers are tending to him. I made sure of it. But at this time we don't know if he'll live," Missandei sighed again, pursing her lips.

"Who could've done this?" Dany shook her head, breathing heavily. "Cersei?"

"What reason would my sister have to kill a Lord from the North who she's never even met? Jon Stark means nothing to her. Once one of Stannis' close advisors, but Stannis himself matters more now, although I could understand Randyll Tarly or perhaps Littlefinger. She has no reason to kill Jon," Tyrion replied. Wishing he had a glass of wine right now, he shook his head. "I doubt this was an outside assassin. This bears the hallmark of treason."

Missandei pinched her chin in frustration. "Who among us would do such a thing?"

"I don't wish to speak ill," Barristan pointed out. "But I think perhaps Varys…"

Tyrion held up a hand. "I'm sorry, but why would we think Lord Varys set this up?" While a brilliant strategist in combat and a wise man, the former Kingsguard… wasn't the best at reading deception or duplicitous intent.

The knight crossed his arms. "He tried to poison her Grace before and was behind the effort to get Jorah Mormont banished. I wouldn't put it past him to still have such ties to the Baratheons or Lannisters."

Varys decided to stand up for himself. "I'm loyal to our Queen now. Now and forever. I would never act against her. The threat of dragonfire is good enough deterrence for me."

"I don't believe Lord Varys was behind this, Your Grace," Missandei added her voice to the noise. "He has no good reason too."

"I agree," Tyrion shrugged, thinking it completely obvious. "Knowing that, who had a good reason?" Not a soul had answers. Moments later, the council meeting opened up into a loud discussion. Barristan went on about suspecting Varys, while Tyrion defended his friend. Dany closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying to make sure this wasn't one of her dreams. The White Wolf had needed help and she was nowhere to be seen.

There was no doubt as to her mind what the dreams were. I am such a fool...

In the back of the room, near the door, Daario slid in. He thought it'd be a better idea to wait for his entrance. He leaned against the wall, intending for the noise to die down before saying anything. But no one had even noticed him coming in. Oh, fuck it. With all the arguing, it was giving him a headache. Abruptly, he stepped up and raised his voice. "It was me. I did it. I killed Jon Stark."

Everything in the room stopped. Faces found him with shock, even the stoic Lord Varys growing wide-eyed. Dany, however, got over it quickly - glaring at him. "You?"

"Yes." He was nonchalant, even proud. "I tricked the Kraken into getting him for me. Poor fool, I had to beat the boy because he wouldn't stay down. Regrettable, but he'll live. Your allies have nothing to fear from me."

"You killed Jon?" Tyrion gasped, eyes widening.

Daario rolled his eyes. "Yes, how many times do I have to say it?"

Hands shaking, Barristan couldn't believe what he heard. "Do you not realize what you've done?" He brought a fist down on the table. And the bastard didn't even hide it. "He was a hostage!"

A shrug. "Am I supposed to care?"

"The entire North will come after us now."

"The North?" He laughed. "I've been there. It's nothing but an icebox. Let them freeze and starve, they have no use for her Grace."

"You're a murderer," hissed Missandei.

"I prefer the term bold… or genius works better. I'll take that." Grinning, it fell slightly noticing not even Grey Worm - who was never partial to Jon Stark - siding with him. "None of you would do what needed to be done, so I did it. And I'd do it again, too - I probably will once the conquest of the North begins." He was serious about what he'd do to pretty little Sansa Stark with Jon's blade.

Only one person's opinion truly mattered here - and she wasn't having it. "Seize him," Dany said, coldly.

"What?" Daario scoffed. Then Grey Worm appeared behind him, and grabbed his arms, twisting them together. "What is this?"

Dany slowly walked over to him, face a mask but eyes saying everything. "You're confused? Let me explain. You murdered my most valuable prisoner in cold blood. For what? Jealousy? Petty vengeance? It doesn't matter. You've committed treason."

"Treason?! I did it for you."

"For me?" Dany shook her head, approaching him. "This was the last thing I'd ever want. You've made a grave mistake."

Grunting, Daario wrestled free of Grey Worm's grip, he got close to Daenerys. "A mistake? I did you a favor. He was poisoning you. Distracting you from the Throne, turning you away from the fire in your blood." The utter lack of warmth in her gaze unnerved him. "You should be thanking me! Reward me even."

The Queen was unmoving as he yelled. Two more Unsullied came over to contain Daario. "You are a weak man, Daario. You will pay dearly for this trespass against me."

At that, Daario fought against the hold of the Unsullied, struggling to break free. To grab Daenerys by the shoulders and shake sense into her. "None of these other cunts was man enough to kill that fucker," he hissed. "To do what had to be done."

Grey Worm's grip tight, Daenerys slowly approached her former lover and current prisoner. Her violet eyes were dark and piercing as they regarded him for who he really was. Faces only inches apart, even given her slight frame, it seemed as if he was facing a dragon. She noticed the missing piece of flesh on his face. "I see Jon left something for you to remember him by. Too bad it won't matter what you remember soon. He was more a man than you will ever be, Daario."

"I can't believe this!" Daario howled. "How could you do this to me?"

"Well, you really are that confused?" Tyrion laughed a bit. "Clouded by your hatred for him, I suppose. Or perhaps your ego - I suspect you hating him was merely an added treat for you."

"What a snake," Barristan scowled, hand going to his trusty blade. "My Queen, please allow me to dispatch this swine myself."

"No," Dany replied quickly. "He will burn." His eyes widened like saucers. "Take him to the dungeons, for now, don't feed him." Her lips curled into a rather… devious smirk. "Put him in the same cell Jon Stark was first in… I believe it was the one that leaked during storms." The cell that brought agony knowing the man she loved had been in would serve well for the man that killed him.

A look of total disbelief on Daario's face as the Unsullied dragged him away, "Daenerys! Don't do this!" He continued to yell long after they pulled him out of the room.

As soon as the door shut, Missandei rushed over to Daenerys. Pulling her into a hug. "I'm so sorry, my Queen." Of those close to her, she was the only one that could give Dany even the semblance of personal comfort. There was one other… but his blood coated her dress. The Queen never to know his touch. "I can't believe…"

"I believe it, Missy," she murmured. "I never truly saw it, but I believe it." A man without honor, without restraint… She squeezed Missandei once before pulling out of the embrace. "This was the same Daario that held a knife to your throat and placed the heads of his Captains on my rug. He was dazzled with me, and everything was on the table to satiate his obsession."

"Your Grace," Barristan said, looking sad. "I wish there was something I could do."

She barely heard him. I can't believe I let him in my bed. Daenerys clenched her fist, biting her lip. The man so besotted and obsessed that he would betray her in the vilest of ways - in her name - had indulged in her body, but the honorable, kind man that she had only realized too late that she loved… Only a knife in the back. Dany truly felt disgusted with herself.

"Varys, you will need to make sure word of this doesn't leave the castle," Tyrion said.

"I can take care of it."

"Good, we need to do what we can to make sure outrage from the North comes at a time when we are ready at the very least."

"There's nothing we can do," Dany huffed. "There's nothing I can do. No matter how grain I send, no measure of servitude I deliver. The North will never kneel for me. Not after this."

"Perhaps there is a way to deliver them a half-truth. So they may be more agreeable," Varys offered.

"No, I owe them the truth. At the very least. It cannot be hidden forever," Dany said. "However, this is a very inopportune time. For now, no one can know."

"I do know that the Starks like to bury the remains of their dead in the crypts under Winterfell," Tyrion pointed out. "Only right his body be returned to his home."

"It will be done," Dany said. "I'll make sure of it. I owe him that."

"What will we do then? When we tell them, the North." Missandei asked no one in particular. "This is a mess regardless of us not informing the North right away. When they find out they will revolt."

"They may never enter the fold," Tyrion sighed. "The only way this ends is them left to their own devices or razed keeps."

"The North has no army," said Varys. "It's not if a revolt would be entirely threatening."

"I don't want to have to burn anyone else," Dany tilted her head, eyes wandering away. "Aside from those who deserve it. If it comes to it… the North won't come to heel, I've taken enough from them. If they won't come to the table, I won't force them."

"Are you saying you'd allow them to be independent?"

"I don't know," Dany lowered her gaze, looking no one in the eyes. She didn't wish the people Jon ruled to be run by a tyrant. "But the North may have suffered enough."

"While true, would it be wise to allow them to do whatever they want?" Barristan asked her, honestly.

"They do have no army to fight us. I don't think they'd be dumb to try something foolish," Tyrion stroked his beard, raising one eyebrow, he allowed the thought to marinate. "If our Queen truly wished this, I believe it could be done. At the very least the same concessions Daeron II gave Dorne. Autonomy would be more apt considering how remote the North is."

"This is a topic for a later time," Missandei said. "We have other matters to attend to."

"Daario, first off," Barristan began. "Are we certain as to what to do with him?"

The Queen's answer came only a split second later. "Yes, abundantly," Dany hissed. "Though I can't decide if it'd be more enjoyable to watch Drogon chew him up or roast him alive."

"I sense there would be no point convincing you otherwise?"

"No."

"I see."

"Do you suggest there is another option?" Dany raised her eyebrows expectantly. "I don't see another option."

Barristan sighed. "I'm not for burning any of our people at-"

"He is not one of us anymore."

Tyrion huffed, fidgeting a bit, "Perhaps banish him?"

"No. That might have been possible had I had more sense when he hurt Jon the first time, disobeying my orders, but he went too far. He deserves to burn." It wouldn't bring Jon back, but Dany didn't care. She couldn't protect him, but she'd at least avenge him.

Pulling himself - difficultly - into a chair, Tyrion leaned back and wished to be drunk. "You know, old friend," he said to Varys. "Some here suspected it was you that pulled this off."

Ruddy eyes casting his way, the eunuch tucked his lips in… Varys spoke with a chuckle. "Surely the small council gives me more credit than that, Lord Tyrion. If I did seek Lord Stark's death… you wouldn't have known it was even foul play…" The Queen's glare silenced him. "Not that I ever would. It's just so… pointless."

"Had you, I would've treated you much the same," Dany told him.

"I'd expect nothing less."

The Queen hung her head, all enthusiasm and promise that had filled her when landing in Dragonstone having evaporated. The place only represented death and ruined dreams to her at this point. I'll have to tell Aemon his surrogate grandson is dead, gods. "How is Theon Greyjoy's condition?"

With that at least Barristan had good news. "He's been knocked out, plus a nasty shoulder wound. The healers have done their best to keep it from festering, but they think he'll live."

That's what they said of Drogo. "When will he wake?"

"Could be tonight, could be in a week. It depends on the blood loss."

Nodding, Daenerys knew she would see him first as she woke. Only he and Daario knew what Jon's last moments were like, and Daario wouldn't talk.

"So what is our next step going to be?" Tyrion mused.

"I don't know," Dany lowered her gaze, looking no one in the eyes. "All I know I want to be alone. Leave me." Not ones to disobey a direct order, the advisers dutifully shuffled off. Eager to return to their warm beds and solitude - especially after all that had transpired. But the Queen wasn't done with one. "Not you, Missandei. Please stay."

The translator stilled, offering Grey Worm an apologetic look before turning back towards her Queen. "Of course, whatever you need." Dany stayed in her chair at the head of the table, while Missandei scooted her own chair closer to Dany's left. She laid her hand on top of Dany's, "I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Missy." Suddenly in the distance, a loud roar boomed over the island. Daenerys closed her eyes, a knowing look on her face. "That's Drogon." Missandei didn't challenge - the Queen had a spiritual connection with her dragons that no one but her could fully understand… Exemplified as another roar screeched at the sky. "Viserion. He was always the most high pitched of them."

Hands over her lap, the translator looked at her Queen and friend with sympathy. "They probably feel your pain, your Grace."

She nodded. "Aye. Since they were hatchlings…" Suddenly another roar joined them… this one so loud it almost shook the keep. Both enraged and mournful, as if challenging the gods themselves for their cruelty. Dany went slightly white. "That's Rhaegal… I've never heard him this angry before." It could be simple sensitivity to her, but something else…

"Mayhaps he feels lonely on top of it all?"

Unable to fathom a cause, Dany nodded. "Mayhaps that's it." A deep, saddened sigh fell from her lips. "I'm glad you're here, Missy. You're the only one that I can truly talk to."

"Always," Missandei smiled. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"I'm sure you already know."

"Not the whole story," Missandei said. "But yes, I've grasped most of it. I saw your reaction to Jon Stark's body. You felt something deep for him."

"Something is a good word for it. Because I can't encapsulate it all in words," Dany smiled a bit, sad but genuine. "I doubt anyone could truly understand even if I tried."

Quite true. Daenerys Targaryen was a mystery even to Missandei, even if the handmaiden had access to the young woman underneath all the power and titles. "You are the blood of the dragon, the Mother of Dragons… but I think you'd be best served to try to get it out."

Her thoughts were jumbled even on this - a conclusion apparent, but the reasoning quite enigmatic in the least. "What kind of person rides a dragon? Thinks she can brave fires? Forge a realm out of the ashes of the chains and muck of the past?" Her sad smile persisted. "To fall in love with a foe. Not the dozens of warriors, Lords, loyal men that looked at me as if I were a goddess, but the greatest commander for my greatest foe that drew my eye."

"You do have a tendency to make the impossible happen."

"This is different, Missy. A prophet creates miracles… a dragon seeks out the impossible. It's in our blood and nature I suppose. To make it difficult for ourselves, to fight the bloody fight or to love those a normal person shouldn't, be it our own family or our enemies. For I, it was Jon Stark." She chuckled mournfully. "The reality of it took a long time to comprehend. Only when I held his head in my hands."

"I'm so sorry," Missandei frowned for her, reaching for Dany's hand. There was nothing worse than losing one's love before even allowing it to be known - she was lucky with Grey Worm that way.

She shrugged. "Don't be, it's not your fault. It's mine."

"What do you mean?"

Dany turned away, "I've been betrayed many times. Yet, this hurts the worst."

Unsure of what comfort to give that hadn't already been said, Missandei noticed a slight conflict in her voice. "What betrayal are you talking about? Daario?"

A sigh, the Targaryen Queen stood and walked away from her, out at the stormy darkness. "His betrayal hurts, but I only expected him to be loyal. Not anything more than an ally, a subordinate. It's why I kicked him out of my bed." She leaned against the windowsill. "It wasn't worth allowing someone I cared little about to open up my greatest intimacy." Even with her never knowing love, Dany craved it even then.

"So whose betrayal hurt the most?" Missandei asked, genuinely confused.

There was a terse silence, hanging like a cloud. "My own," Dany ended up murmuring. "I betrayed myself."

"How?"

Turning around, it looked as if Daenerys was crying, but her eyes were dry. She was beyond tears. "I loved Jon Stark. I think something inside me knew even before all of this… but I sent him away regardless. He… he seemed to want to stay, or at least try to come to some sort of understanding before leaving, but I refused to give him a choice." Dany laughed, though the mirth didn't reach her grieving eyes. "After everything I learned, after all my uncle told me… I refused him even the choice to love me."

"I think he knew. He is… was…" she changed ruefully, seeing Dany's slight agony at the word change. "He was a Lord. Honor and duty were his life."

Dany shook her head. "No, I saw his face. Moons of yelling, shouting, screaming, hissing… begging to leave for the North, only to almost plead with me to stay. As if not having a final moment to me brought him physical pain." Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Daario may have done it to Jon, but it feels as if I did it as well. Stabbed him in the heart... and then stabbed myself."

"Oh, Daenerys…"

"Jon died, something that I have to accept, however, it wrenches my heart." She paused for a moment, inhaling softly. "I can't imagine the pain he felt, stabbed in the heart. But I do feel wounded. A wound that doesn't feel like it'll ever close. Even after Daario is ash beneath my feet." But her declaration of vengeance rang hollow.

"And now..." Her voice lost all emotion. "And now it's too late. "I'll never know what he felt, only what I feel. Jon may have taken the blow, but I felt it as well. I'll always have that pain in my heart, and it will be entirely self-inflicted." Dany looked up at Missandei, gaze lifeless. "And isn't that truly the sharpest blade?"

Outside, the dragons continued to bellow into the thundering void.

There was nothing less graceful than trying to pilot a skiff through the shallow waters of a shoreline - well, perhaps trying to haul that skiff ashore, or trying to remove one's clothes before a fuck. Even still, Davos tried to get the sellsails manning the small boat as quiet as possible while they approached what he hoped was the hidden cove. "Easy lads, easy," he cautioned. "Pull to port." A splash resonated as one sellsail slapped the oar into the choppy water, slipping as the rain-soaked them thoroughly. "Easy, easy."

"You try doing this, cunt," the sellsail hissed back, only to be smacked upside the head by his leader.

"Shut it and just keep rowing."

Late at night was the best time to sneak in, given the limitations of the lookouts and - Davos reasoned - the dragons. The rain helped massively in covering their approach, but also made their visibility not worth a damn. "Keep port… keep port… there!" He could see the slightly gaping maw of the hidden cove where he had released the Baratheon bastard years ago. "Straight. Row amidships." The wind was picking up, starting to push them away. "Straight!"

"I fuckin' heard ya!"

Sitting quietly in the middle of the boat, Melisandre remained calm. "Do not panic, the Lord shows the way."

"Fuck the Lord, I want my coin."

But all the cursing turned out to be anticlimactic, the wind unable to overcome their frantic rowing as the skiff passed into the calm waters of the cove. "Well, fuck me. We made it."

Letting out a relieved breath, Davos motioned to a strip of the beach up ahead. "Get it over there. The entrance to the tunnel is just ahead of those rocks." Proving the lack of grace that beaching was, eventually the men were able to wring their clothes of rainfall and grabbed their weapons. A hodgepodge of different blades and spears that nonetheless were both light and easy to wield in enclosed spaces. "Ready?"

"More enthusiastic to fulfill His will than ever before, Lord Davos." Blinking at the always enigmatic statements from Melisandre, Davos lit a torch and motioned towards the tunnel - just where he said it was.

Behind them, the lightning crackled ominously.

Davos led them ahead, the torch in his hand their only source of light. It proved more difficult than he'd thought to get his bearings. Truly, he'd only used these tunnels once, so an immediate sense of direction probably shouldn't have been expected. There were many paths, and none seemed like the right choice. The winding corridors seemed to get tighter and tighter as they strolled along.

"Do we know where we're going?" in the back, the Captain asked. Probably realizing Davos' confusion when they stopped at a fork in the path.

"Uh… erm, I-" Davos began but was cut off by the Red Woman.

"It's this way," Melisandre said, walking off into the darkness to the right. Clearly she meant for them to follow but she disappeared into thin air rather quickly. With no better ideas, Davos shrugged and followed after her.

They caught up soon enough, she couldn't get that far ahead without light. Yet, it seemed like Melisandre got off just fine without it. Head held high, no confusing stops when decisions needed to be made. Felt like they made twice as much progress with her leading than Davos. To accent that point, the team reached a spiraling stone staircase. They'd seen nothing of the like up until then. Melisandre did stop before the first step, though she merely glanced behind her at them, "Just up this staircase is the lower levels of the castle. It won't be too difficult to find the cells from there. Right, Ser Davos?"

"Ugh…" Davos cleared his throat and nodded, "Yes, of course, we should be able to find it easily enough."

It was chilly outside, Blackwater Bay no slouch even without snow in the south, but within the depths of the volcanic island, it was stifling. Men sweating profusely as they struggled to grip onto the swords and harpoons they carried as weaponry. "How much fookin' longer?!" hissed one sellsail.

"Shut it!" Davos hissed back.

"This staircase goes on fookin' forever!"

"I said shut it!" They finally reached a door at the top of the winding steps. His dagger was drawn by his side, Davos wiped a sheen of sweat from his bald head and reached for the handle. His mutilated fingers wouldn't ever grip anything again, but the simple latch didn't need a grip. It gave way and pushed in with ease.

The corridor was damp, but Davos saw several torches lining the walls - each about ten paces apart. Aye, I know where I am now. This had been one of the hallways Stannis' men had dragged him through after he threatened the Lady Melisandre. And now here he was, with Melisandre, breaking into the same cells he had lived in for moons. The gods have a sense of humor, they do. Motioning to the men to follow, he raised his dagger and hurried along.

Thankfully, the damp yet not puddled floors muffled the scuffs of their shoes. Two of the sellsails - of their three best fighters, they took point while the other covered their rear - checked around the corners of various corridors. No one moved until the signal was given that the coast was clear. Each section brought fresh tension. Someone lit the damn torches. Only Melisandre, a tiny smirk on her face, was nonplussed.

What is in your mind, Red Woman? Davos would have liked to know whether he'd ever see Marya or his sons again.

"Here," he announced in a whisper, pointing to a thick wooden door. "That's the dungeon." He recognized that massive wooden beam and steel latch anywhere. "Get it open." Cursing at how soggy and moldy the beam was, the sellsails nevertheless quickly heaved it off - Davos pulling open the latch and entering the place he had called home for many moons.

It was just as Davos remembered - one step above the seven hells. The Valyrians that built this place must've loved sensory deprivation as a torture technique, so there was no natural light. Only a few flickering torches, and those managed to cast a weak orange illumination in the hallways. Very little to the cells, making it hard to see who was within. "I can't see a bloody thing," one of the sellsails remarked.

"Check each of them closely," Davos said, using his torch to peer through the bars. His own cell was empty, as were the several adjacent to it. "Dragon Queen doesn't keep many prisoners," he mused.

"She's got dragons," muttered another sellsail. "No need for 'em."

The statement made Davos' blood run cold, heart beating as he looked in another empty cell. "You sure that Jon is alive?" he asked Melisandre with a grim frown.

"The flames are mysterious and enigmatic, Lord Davos, but in that they are certain. He lives."

His frown lessened only slightly. Let's hope those flames are right… "Wait, there's someone here!" he called out, finally seeing a slumped human form in the cell at the farthest corner of the dungeon - the one where Stannis always kept the most horrid of prisoners - the ones he wanted to suffer. As the sellsails gathered around, one with a crowbar ready to pry it open, Davos thought he heard humming from within. "Jon. Jon, is that you?"

Nothing, just more humming. A groan echoed through the cavernous dungeon as they used the crowbar to break the lock on the cell door.

Davos pushed it open and jogged inside. "Jon. It's Lord Davos, we're here to get you…" He trailed off just as he caught a glimpse of the man resting in the cells. Shoulder length hair framed his face, but it was a dark bronze rather than raven black. "Who are you?"

Ceasing his humming, the man quirked his head upward. "Daario Naharis - if you're the guys sent to bust me out of here, I wouldn't confuse me with that fuckin' bastard if I were you."

He had no idea who 'Daario Naharis' was, but if he insulted Jon like that then he was an enemy. "Where's Jon Stark?" Davos said, as loud as he could without yelling.

"The bastard? Oh, you're a bit too late for a rescue," Daario scoffed.

"What in fucks name does that mean?" Davos hissed, then his face darkened. "Did the Dragon Queen burn him? That..."

"Oh, no, the Queen never harmed him. Me, however, well, not so much."

The sellsails were getting impatient. "He's a mad cunt. Let's get out of 'ere!" The lead one hissed.

But Davos wasn't done. "What did you do to Jon Stark?!" Surprising even himself, Davos struck the man's cheek with a right hook. "Answer me!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

The man - Daario - only laughed. "You'll find out soon. Please do tell Stannis or Cersei or whoever the fuck you work for."

"Davos." He turned to see Melisandre. "We need to go," she told him firmly. Nodding, Davos hit the laughing Daario upside the head, knocking him out. Best not to leave anyone that could sound the warning.

"Just shut it." The last sellsail slammed the door to the cell shut as they began to exit… only to all halt as the sounds of steps echoed through the dungeons. "Ah fuck."

"Iksan vaoreznuni nyke pāstan zirȳla," Grey Worm told his lover, hoping that Missandei would believe him. "Nyke pendagon ziry ivīlībagon se dāria."

Missandei offered a small smile, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Issa daor va ao, Turgon Nudha. Mērī Dārio kessa zālagon syt…" She stopped as they turned into the dungeons to find a collection of half a dozen men and one woman. All parties involved just staring at each other.

Blinking, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife, Davos regarded the unsullied soldier and pretty, frizzy-haired foreign woman with both shock and fear… "Um… good evening," he stammered out - his sellsails regarding him as if he was mad.

The tension was broken when Missandei screamed. "Dovaogēdy!" Already Grey Worm had drawn his short sword, quickly racing back as he covered his lover's flight. "Qrinuntyssy isse se sombāzmion!"

"Alright, lads! We're fuckin' bookin' it!" shouted the lead sellsail. Literally manhandling Davos as they raced out of the dungeons.

Davos was barely able to keep from tripping. "We still need to find Jon!"

"Fuck that! I ain't dyin' for you!" They were almost at the door to the staircase when the Unsullied returned with more of his men, spears bristling as they advanced, forcing them back… into another wall of Unsullied pikemen that emerged from another one of the doors. "Ah, seven hells!"

"Put your weapons down and you will not be harmed," Missandei announced, having recovered her composure for the most part - heart still beating out of her chest.

Sighing, Davos knew when to admit defeat. "Well, better do as she says." His dagger came clattering to the ground, followed by the others in quick succession.

Just before the Unsullied moved to take them into custody, Melisandre stepped forward. Barking something in High Valyrian that meant nothing to him but caused the pretty foreign lady to gasp. "What did you say?" Davos asked hesitantly."

"I told her that you were the Hand to King Stannis."

He gaped at her. "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

Melisandre smirked. "To get us before the Dragon Queen." He had no reply to that as he was forcefully taken into custody.

"I cannot take any more of this." Aside from Rhaego's death, the death of Drogo and her abandonment by most of the Khalasar had left some time for Daenerys to properly mourn her loss. To prepare for the hatching of her dragons. But the gods or fate or circumstance was cruel to her. Not once was she allowed to mourn the death of her late love. "Are you saying they wished to break out Daario?"

Shaking his head, Barristan walked beside her. "No. If that were the case we likely wouldn't have found them. They could've easily escaped likely through the same way they got in."

"How did they get in?"

"We're not sure yet, Your Grace."

"Gods," she muttered, but composed herself in a regal facade - hiding how shattered her heart and soul truly were - before entering the throne room. Presence drawing bows from her advisers and bloodriders, clicked heels from her Unsullied, and shivers from the cowering prisoners - aside from two.

Missandei cleared her throat as Dany took a seat upon the Dragonglass Throne. "Presenting Daenerys of House Targaryen…"

"That will be enough, Missandei." Daenerys just wanted this over and done with. "Where were they found?"

"Skulking near the cells, Your Grace," Missandei replied. Then she gestured to Davos, "The Red Priestess said he was the Hand to Stannis Baratheon."

Dany was obviously surprised. "Hand? To Stannis?" Her eyes settled on Davos. "What are you doing here? How did you get into my keep?"

The Onion Knight may have been her enemy, but he was respectful - far more than many highborns she knew. "I've been Stannis' Hand for many years. Including those when he was the Lord of this castle. I know it well." Davos noticed the Queen's abundantly dirty clothes, dried blood. "What has happened here?" The blood isn't hers, cause she's walkin' around. No one could survive losing that much blood.

Scowling, Dany narrowed her gaze. She ignored his question. "Tell me why I shouldn't just leave you to my dragons."

"Sadly, I haven't got one," Davos shrugged. Knowing the sellsails were gaping at him incredulously but he didn't really care. "Frankly, I'm surprised we're still breathing. I know how Stannis would've treated an infiltration such as this - do what you want with me, but spare them. They're only here cause I paid 'em."

"Are you suggesting you'd like to meet my dragons?" The fact he asked for mercy for his men rather than himself heartened Stannis' Hand to her. The fact he was Stannis' Hand didn't. "Ser…"

"Davos, my name is Ser Davos Seaworth."

"Ah, the Onion Knight," Barristan spoke up. "I know of you. Stannis was Robert's Master of Ships for some time - you were with him as his deputy."

"And I know you, Ser Barristan Selmy," replied Davos. "Yes, I was, for a time. But oftentimes I went where Stannis did. After Robert and 'im got into their catfight, well, I sided with Stannis as I always have."

"Again, Ser Davos, I ask you why you snuck into my keep," Daenerys huffed, patience running thin.

He narrowed his eyes. "Is it not clear? Why else would I be here? Why else would I risk death? Though I heard from your man in the cells it might all be for naught," Davos frowned, then looked away.

Barristan realized it first, "Oh, I see." He stepped forward, "Your Grace, I believe that they had come to try to rescue Jon Stark."

Dany tried not to have a reaction on her face as Davos began speaking again. "Is that his blood?" She stiffened regardless. "What'd you do to him?"

Perhaps she shouldn't reply, just send them back to the cells to deal with later. But she wanted to defend herself. Anyone thinking she had anything to do with Jon's death didn't sit right with her. "I did nothing to him."

Davos pointed at her gown, "But that's his blood. I know it. What'd you do? Bathe in it after you stabbed him in the heart?"

"I didn't kill him," Dany's voice raised higher than she intended, eyes blazing dragonfire. So much that Davos actually flinched - backing up two paces. "I suggest you stop assuming you know anything about what happened here. Lest you do burn up before my dragons. I know you must have heard much about me. You probably thought all of it was true." She lowered her voice, but it was still quite menacing. "In reality, most were lies. I can tell you that. But, one thing was true, I do have three full-grown dragons, perhaps you saw them on your way in. I use them when I need to. The question is, are you going to give me a reason?"

Too stunned to reply, especially given the vitriol of her denial, Davos remained silent. As did the confused sellsails, shaking and hoping the Dragon Queen would just let them go. Melisandre, on the other hand, stood straight, smiling softly as she always did… only moreso.

Dany continued. "I suggest you don't. You've snuck into my castle and you dare accuse me of killing your Warden of the North? You find yourself standing before me having committed a crime. And I am not in a merciful mood. Watch your tongue, for your life is hanging in the balance."

Davos' mind was sent reeling by her words, momentarily unable to form a response. So, Melisadre spoke for him, "She didn't kill him." All eyes went to the Red Woman as she stepped up. "She couldn't have. Nothing would've been more difficult."

"A red priestess," Dany's eyes fluttered to her, then back to Davos. "Why are the two of you traveling together?"

"I have a mission. I've been sent by the Lord of Light to see his will done."

Religious men had said many things about her in her lifetime - Daenerys was skeptical of them all, especially witches and mages after what one had done to her and her child. "And what is his will?" she spat, glaring at the woman.

Melisandre was unaffected. "Simple. Where is he?"

"You can't see him."

"I'm the only one who can help him."

"Help him?" Barristan asked, with a confused countenance. "What can you do for him?"

"I will show you."

"No," Dany shook her head. She won't allow another witch near a man she loved. "You will not touch him."

In response, Melisandre moved closer to the Queen. Unafraid of Barristan stepping in between them. She got as close as she could, her head cocked to the side as she looked Daenerys in the eyes. "I know your heart. Your intentions were good, but you stood in the way. I can help you if you allow me. You can get what you want."

"You do not know what I want."

"I do," Melisandre smiled. "It's not hard to see what you wanted from him. You're lucky. I can give you another chance."

Dany's jaw clenched as the Red Witch's words hit her ears. "What will you do?"

"Take me to him."

A/N: BRuh4: These are the chapters we've been waiting for a little less than a year to write. I'm glad we've got the following we do because of you all. It's very humbling.

Regarding this chapter, clearly, it's a set up for the next one. No denying it. There were some obvious ideas happening so I hope you were paying attention though. I'm not gonna say what, of course, but you can guess. Everything else in the chapter likely speaks for itself.

Longclaw: Yeah, Daario made a big mistake. Hope the chapter explained a little better why Dany fell for Jon even though they were enemies. Perfect personalities and just the right circumstances.

Tell your friends.