A/N: Longclaw: Hi. Got married last week!

Bruh: Hey, friends. It's chapter time again. Similar wait time, unfortunately. Real-life gets in the way.

Some shit goes down here though. Hope you like it.

Enjoy.

Chapter 49: To Seek Peace

He wished he had his sword, for the welcome was… icy.

It was not something Jon had contemplated, though the manner had come up in his mind in the context of Daenerys. She, once he cleared things up in the privacy of their chambers, had welcomed him with the most wonderful of openness - what she did to welcome him back to her still brought a smile to his face even when they were forced to part in the wee hours of the morning. It wasn't her that fostered an icy feel to the castle. It was the others.

Apart from Missandei, someone he didn't trust completely but Dany did, the looks he received were formal at best. Lord Varys was placid, while Tyrion eyed him skeptically as if studying him. Grey Worm was… hesitant being the best word to describe the Unsullied's gaze. The Dothraki were openly hostile even if they made no effort to approach him.

No one forgot the lesson taught by the fate of Daario Naharis.

Nevertheless, Jon still wished he had his sword. It would've brought him peace of mind, and he would rather run it through his own heart than dare harm Dany in any manner. Her councilors didn't know that. However, and for the sake of appearances he needed to keep up the pretense. Jon knew that it wasn't just Dany's partisans that were watching, for the walls had long-reaching ears.

He walked from the rookery where a dispatch to Stannis in his own hand was sent - diplomatic correspondence, inviolate according to all laws and custom of both Westeros and the remnants of the Valyrian legal code in Essos. It was simple, relaying the initial mood among the lot and Daenerys in particular, further requesting instructions. If Stannis was diligent, which he was, Jon expected a reply either late that night or early in the morning.

Gods, I hope he considers peace.

Tumultuous thoughts threatening to ruin the good mood he was in thanks to Dany, Jon perked up as he continued to stalk the hallways. There was one other in Dragonstone that was set to welcome him as eagerly - though not in the same manner, he thought with a chuckle - as Daenerys had.

The guards shadowing him, Unsullied as per Daenerys' sensitivity to his past experiences in Dragonstone, wordlessly guided Jon to the chambers in which he sought. They were on the first floor of the keep, one in which the occupant could better access the courtyard or any of the common areas… back when he could walk that is. Thinking on that brought Jon a sense of innate grief, but the White Wolf steeled himself. Acting in that manner wouldn't solve anything.

Approaching the door, it opened and someone wandered out. When he looked up, the man's eyes widened. "Jon! You're back!"

Jon found a smile instinctively. "Aye, Sam. It's good to see you."

The portly acolyte threw his arms around Jon, hugging him tightly. "Thank the gods… I heard what happened to you in King's Landing." Sam pulled back. "You were an idiot for leaving, you know that?"

"You're not the first person to think that or tell me that, but I needed to do what I needed to do."

"That's something you've always done, if constrained by honor," Sam smiled softly, not wanting to pry too much into the past he had most likely forgotten. There was no malice from Jon, however. It actually seemed to comfort him in a way, having continuity to the past. In any case, Sam moved on. "Are you truly on Stannis' side again?"

"I'm working for peace," Jon replied, hiding behind the vagueness of that statement. "Working to fight the threat we both know is coming."

Sam nodded. "Good, though I doubt everyone will see it that way here." A sigh. "He'll be happy to see you though. It's good that you came in the mornings - that's when he's most lucid."

Gulping, Jon felt a knot in his gut but didn't waver. "Can I see him, then?"

"Sure, go on in. I have to go fetch his lunch." Left alone in front of the door, Jon drew in a breath and entered.

The sight staggered him. From his time at Dragonstone before, the memories of Maester Aemon Targaryen had been of an old man in the last moments of twilight. Now though, the memories seemed like vigor. He was skinny to the point of showing his bones, hair sparse, and never at rest - always moving in a manner that clearly brought him discomfort. Seeing it stirred a sorrow deep in his soul.

Aemon didn't have many days left. Had Jon delayed even a week, he may have never spoken to the old man again.

"Sam… you came back soon…"

Opening his mouth, Jon had to struggle to form the words. "It is I, Maester Aemon."

The expression quickly turned into one of the purest joys. "Jon? Jon, my boy, come here." As soon as Jon sat down, Aemon reached out for him. "How are you, child? You've returned."

"Aye, I have." Jon took the hand with his. "I represent Stannis officially, but I am here for Daenerys. To seek peace."

The toothless smile fitted into a frown, the man's thin eyebrows knotted into worry. "Jon… do not think you will be able to get all of what you want, or for those to act honorably or logically even in the face of certain death. Sometimes you will need to make a difficult choice…"

"Maester Aemon." Jon leaned forward. "Do not worry about me, please, worry about how you will survive this…"

"Jon, my child, just listen to me. When I was young and my father died, I knew that those opposed to my brother would wish to use me to seek power for themselves. I did all I could do, accepting a station at the wall where I could never be a threat to my family as my great uncle Daemon ended up. I was deprived of my family for seventy years, Jon. Just as I did, you will be faced with having to give up so much of yourself. Would you do it for Dany if it was necessary?"

Thinking… Jon closed his eyes. Forced to face the same agony as he had endured coming to where he was. Aemon was challenging him, challenging his motivations. In the face of disaster, where both Stannis and Daenerys went to war, what would he do? 'I would slaughter anyone that threatened you.' "Do not worry, I know what I'd have to sacrifice. What I fight for is worth far more to me."

"Good, good. I always knew you'd make the right choice in the end." Clasping his hand with his bony fingers, Aemon seemed to be staring at Jon. Gazing with unseeing eyes… glassy orbs piercing in their own way. "There hasn't been anything more appreciated by me than to be in the place of my birth with my remaining family before my end."

Jon squeezed back, wincing. "Don't say that, Maester Aemon."

"Oh, child, if I had been even thirty namedays younger then you'd have a sort of the point - not likely, however. But I've seen a century, cheating death more than once beyond what is right and proper in all actuality." He sighed, shifting on the covers. "It… it's a curse, to live this long… My family is all dead. If I didn't have Daenerys, or you… I'd be alone without anyone to care for me or remember my name."

"You have Sam, and every brother of the Black." Jon suddenly heard something he said, processing it. "Me? Your family?" He closed his eyes. "My family killed yours, Maester Aemon."

"No," replied the firm voice of the maester. "Aerys' death had nothing to do with your family, nor did the rest of them. Had the Starks stayed north of the Neck then it would've happened regardless - a rebellion was inevitable." A cough, one hacking and difficult, threatening to drive Aemon into a fit. Paralyzed momentarily, Jon patted the man's emaciated back, offering the only comfort he could. Eventually, the cough subsided, Aemon pale and tired but managing a weak smile. "Thank you, child."

"Should we wait for Sam, then?"

But Aemon shook his head. "Let us do this now, and I won't be bogged down in the past. As Daenerys says, one is lost when looking back." Again, Aemon clasped his hand. "You, you are like a nephew to me, Jon. You're a wolf, but you have a fire so familiar to me even when you arrived nothing but a discarded bastard fleeing the horrible treatment of your stepmother."

"How do you…"

"I am observant… and can infer things. My body may be failing but my mind is still sharp on occasion." Aemon chuckled at that but eased off when he threatened to fall to more coughing. "In any case. My time has come. I've accepted it, but Daenerys is left, the last of my family."

"Considering her might, she won't be the last I believe."

A piercing, unseeing look found Jon. "I need you to protect her for me, Jon. Please."

Jon didn't hesitate. "I will."

"You love her don't you?" Before Jon could offer agreement, Aemon beamed - the smile looking almost skeleton-like on his emaciated face. "Thank the gods. I couldn't think of a better man for her. Just strong enough to ignore her fire when needed."

"Used to hate the fire, yet it sustains me now," he replied.

"Love and hate, just different manifestations of passion." The maester's face grew serious again. "She believes so little of herself sometimes, so you need to prove that she's wrong about it. Give her what she needs, and Daenerys will do so for you as well, I know it."

The White Wolf squeezed his hand. "She already does."

Aemon found contentment at that. "You… you have a duty far beyond her but including her, Jon. The gods have given you great suffering, but more will come." Aemon paused, gathering air, "I… I told you once to kill the boy and let the man be born."

"One of the things I remember of you, Maester."

"If that's all you remember then I am further content - however, it's not enough. You are more than just a man, Jon. You are extraordinary and need to embrace it. If you think peace is needed, you must fight for it. If your loved ones are threatened… You must lay waste to all those that threaten them. If you face the specter of death itself, you must find a way to be victorious. Never give up, and never be complacent."

Overwhelmed by the gravity of Aemon's comments, Jon could only nod. "I will make you proud, Maester Aemon."

Determination softening, Aemon reached up to cup his cheek. "Jon, you already do."

It was amusing to think about after everything - in all his life as a Kingsguard, Jaime had never been to Dragonstone. As a junior member knighted rather soon before the infamous Tourney at Harrenhal, he was kept close to Gerold Hightower… and then kept close to the King when Robert's Rebellion started. Afterward, Cersei had insisted that he stay with her without his objections and Stannis was given Dragonstone. Robert didn't like Stannis and that was that.

Quite ironic that the ancestral home of the dynasty that first swore him into the Kingsguard was alien to him until that day… and that day finding him locked into a bare bedchamber somewhere in the great keep.

Could've honestly been one of the cells, so Jaime figured that he could count his blessings.

Ser Barristan hadn't seen him again since he was hauled onto a Ghiscari bark out of Duskendale, so the only contacts Jaime had made were of the iron-faced, silent Unsullied. None of the Dragon Queen's councilors had met with him yet, undoubtedly unsure of what to do with him.

Or they were busy dealing with Jon Stark if he arrived. He had hoped Jon was in the castle. If he had the sway over Daenerys that Jon had alluded he did; Jon could perhaps speak for his case. If Tyrion was not enough, that is.

Finally, the door opened, though Jaime looked away. "Another moldy loaf of bread or weak porridge, you son of a bitch?"

"Now, who is the one speaking unkindly of our mother?"

Head snapping up, Jaime caught witness to probably the only person in this keep that didn't want him chained to a wall. His heart soared, but the sarcastic retort found its way to his lips anyway. "Stealing my line, are you? Did you run out of words?"

Tyrion shrugged. "Being liberal with my wine made me liberal with my words… seems I ran out of original material." He sported a thick beard and mustache since the last time they saw each other when it had been merely a stubble from being locked in the Black Cells. Somewhere Jaime had been - he was there and among Robb Stark and the Boltons, then Tyrion additionally in the Vale. "Seems we both have a distinction of being locked up." It was as if Tyrion could read his mind. "This time it is I that serves as your savior."

"Savior? Did the Dragon Queen plan on hauling me to her dragons when Barristan informed her of me?"

"No… you weren't going to die, but I convinced her to hear you out. Jon Stark did as well."

To this Jaime's brow rose. "The lad made it, I see. Good for him."

Tyrion was surprised. "You knew?"

"Was locked up with him for a while and she was the only person he couldn't shut up about. Put two and two together." A snort. "Also had the pleasure of being with the Hound. Spent most of his time talking about chickens."

"I hesitate to think what he does to them." There was a pause before both brothers just started laughing. It was a good relief of the tension. "Imprisoned and losing our sister notwithstanding, you look rather… unburdened, Jaime." Tyrion smiled at finding the right word.

Thinking of Cersei wasn't painful anymore, just leaving a hollowed ache in his gut. The most important person in his life for so long… now nothing more than ashes in the wind and mere memories. Perhaps he was the only person left alive that held good memories of her. For a moment, his mind lingered on the more pleasant times. "Aye, I am unburdened." He cracked his neck. "First time in my life where my destiny is mine to choose."

Tyrion smiled sadly. "With the permission of her Grace, though." He motioned for Jaime to follow him. "Come on. She wishes for your audience at the moment."

"In the throne room?"

"Where else? Her solar? She intends to intimidate you and unless you'd like to meet her dragons it's the best place."

"Thank you but no. I'd rather not end up like the Blackfish." Unsullied surrounding them in a square, Jaime kept his paces slow and even. "Just between you and me, that was a stupid decision of hers."

A sigh left Tyrion's lips. "The cascade of events from that nearly destroyed everything for her." Sufficiently cryptic for Jaime to be completely confused.

Dragonstone was exactly as Jaime had pictured the Targaryens of old to be like - imposing, fierce, and yet utterly alien to the dominant culture of Westeros. Andals, First Men, even the exotic Rhoynar all had a sense of familiarity with each other, but the dragonlords of Old Valyria were a different species entirely.

Just one look at the Dragon Queen as he followed his brother into the Throne Room was enough to emphasize the point. There she was sitting on the throne. Dressed in a black gown with a red cloak draped behind. Her hair was up in an elaborate braid, yet for all her beauty she looked as dangerous as her reputation noted. This woman fit well with her famous ancestors - Visenya the Conqueror, Alyssa the Wild Princess, Rhaenyra the Queen-claimant, and Daena the Defiant.

Daenerys Targaryen had her own timeless moniker. The Mother of Dragons.

"That's enough," Ser Barristan announced, holding his hand to stop Jaime from advancing any further than ten feet from the steps. He stood at the bottom of them, while Tyrion waited beside Jaime a few feet apart. Guards lined the base of the throne, while two figures - one of whom Jaime recognized as Lord Varys while the frizzy-haired, elegant young woman was unknown to him - stood to Daenerys' right.

"You stand before Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," began the dark-skinned woman. "First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons." A long and impressive list of titles that Cersei would have envied.

And unlike Cersei, the Dragon Queen earned them more than simply being the last one standing in the right place.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, Ser Jaime," she said evenly, not giving anything away. Her voice… It reminded Jaime of a hardened, steeled copy of Rhaella Targaryen. It felt surreal. "For so long my brother told me of the man that struck down my father, of someone sworn to protect him as a Kingsguard only to betray him."

Gulping, Jaime didn't cower. "I admit it, your Grace."

Daenerys didn't break her stride. "Yet he wasn't the only one you betrayed. You betrayed Robert the Usurper by sleeping with his Queen - your sister?"

"Aye, I won't deny that either."

"I'd imagine you were more impressive back then?" Dany said. "Seeing as now, you're a weathered man with no right hand."

Jaime took the slight in stride, "Oh, Your Grace, I was a sight to behold."

Dany narrowed her eyes, "Yet, I am the last person who can attack you for such, considering my parents were brother and sister. Though…" She leaned back in her throne, eyes flickering once to Jon Stark. Who gave her a slight nod. He stood quite a ways away though, at the mouth of a nearby hallway. Jaime assumed he was merely observing.

Jaime locked eyes with Jon Stark, formal in his Northern leathers and Stark sigil - hair tied back. He nodded imperceptibly to anyone but Stark, to which the Lord of Winterfell responded in kind.

The Queen continued, "As a child, I always thought you were some sort of demon. One merged with an otherworldly beauty when other rumors came around as I grew." She snorted. "While you are rather comely… you are much more battered and disheveled than I imagined as a girl."

Snickering, Jaime shrugged. "I'll take that as a compliment… your Grace."

Folding her hands together, she was visibly thinking. "Some of my advisors say that I should execute you for your crimes, even if I know what my father was and what he did." Tyrion… of course you blabbed. "However, Lord Jon Stark here vouched for you… at least in keeping you alive for the moment." Her eyes flickered to Tyrion. "And I suppose you would ask for mercy on behalf of your brother."

"He is the only family I have left," Tyrion said, clearing his throat. "So, yes, I would very much like for him to be alive."

Jaime did let a smile sneak onto his face. Despite the pain and suffering, he had endured; Tyrion was a small respite. "For the record, I would also like to live."

Dany scowled, "I suspected. The only question is whether or not you're worthy. You serve no use to me."

Tyrion looked back at Dany, "My Queen-"

"House Lannister is in shambles. The two of you are its only last living with the name. Aside from some long-lost cousins and uncles. Jaime Lannister can be no hostage. No one would trade anything for him."

Barristan spoke up, "Your Grace, I would venture to guess that the North would gladly take him off our hands. That might grease a few palms in your favor."

"That… may be true, Ser Barristan," Dany replied, thinking on the idea. "That suggestion has merits. The North may be a bit more relenting if I deliver them Jaime Lannister." She locked eyes with Jaime, "I know they hold quite the hatred for you."

Tyrion's eyes widened, "Your Grace?"

"Lord Tyrion, should I spare this man merely on the notion that he is your brother?"

"Yes, I should hope so."

Jaime raised a chained hand, "Mercy, I think they call it."

"Mercy? Mercy?" Daenerys scoffed. "Did you show my father mercy? Did Robert Baratheon show my family mercy?" Jaime winced immediately, regretting everything. "Everyone in this room seems to forget that, you, Jaime Lannister. Are the cause of great suffering for my House. Perhaps even the cause of its downfall. Yet, you ask for mercy?"

"Your Grace, I understand your grievances with my brother," Tyrion said. "But he is all I have left."

Dany exhaled, "Be that as it may, he has carried out crimes against my House. His crimes cannot go unpunished. He has to pay-"

"I have paid!" Jaime cut in, silencing the room. "I have fucking paid. All I have done is fucking pay for what I've done." He moved forward, Unsullied stepped forward but he didn't even notice. "What more would you like me to give? My children are gone. My House is gone. The love of my life lost her mind. I watched her be burned at the goddamn stake. I lost my hand." He held up his nub, lacking the golden hand, many noticed. Even Tyrion, whose eyes seemed entranced by it. "I am nothing. I want nothing. Other than to live out the rest of my days, in peace. I'm done fighting. I'm no use for that anymore... I'm tired."

Everyone stood erect. All eyeing Jaime, he noticed this and tensed. "I even chose to come here. Jon Stark's sister, Arya, held me captive." That Jon's attention, peeking around the corner more intensely. "I came to the conclusion that she had no more intention than to just kill me. As you know, the North holds nothing but ill will for me there. So, I escaped. Jumped into a hard rushing river and got away. I threw my golden hand away. Mostly because I didn't want to be recognized and brought back to Stannis. But, also… because I thought it was time I tried to move on."

"Your second thought was to come here?" Dany asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"There was nowhere else to go. Aside from life as amongst the townsfolk, there's nothing left for me back home," He gestured at Tyrion. "He's all I have. I figured he could talk me out of being killed."

"What was supposed to happen after that? Supposing Lord Tyrion succeeded?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," Jaime shrugged. "I knew the North was for sure death. At least here, in the mouth of the dragon, I had at least one person vying for my survival."

"Two," someone said from behind them, Jon. Who started walking towards them. "I'm sorry, Your Grace. I know I am out of place in this meeting. But, I too would be remiss to not speak up for Ser Jaime Lannister."

"A Stark? Speaking up for a Lannister?" Barristan laughed. "What a folly."

"Some would say, for sure, Ser Barristan," Jon responded. "Yet, I'll vouch for Ser Jaime's life. I think he may still have some fight left in him." Jaime glared back at him with wide eyes, unblinking. Tyrion blinked over and over again as if his eyes deceived him.

"This is a surprise, Lord Stark," Dany said, unsure of her reaction deep down. "What cause do you have?"

"Well, Your Grace, Ser Jaime is right. Physically, he has not much to offer in a fight. However, I think his military mind is still able to lend some light," Jon said, drawing close to the group, hands behind his back. "I saw such for myself in the black cells. Ser Jaime and I engaged in many discussions. We had little else to do. I see that as useful to me."

"What of your homeland? What will they say?"

"I care not for what they have to say, to be honest, Your Grace," Jon replied. "I am Warden of the North. The smallfolk's lives matter to me, not what comes out of their mouths."

Dany sighed, looking away, "I see."

"Furthermore, if you are not convinced, I will personally take Ser Jaime under my guard," Jon added.

Tyrion coughed, "What?" Jaime gave a similar reaction.

"Yes, you heard me," Jon said. "That way, he will at least be out of your way. You won't have to watch over him."

"He is my brother," Tyrion said. "Who better than me to watch over him?"

"Unfortunately, Lord Tyrion, it's not up to you," Jon told him. "I am merely offering a solution."

"Not my preferred solution, Stark," Tyrion glared.

"Would you like your brother to live?"

"Of course," Tyrion scoffed.

"Then he is safer with me," Jon said. "I mean him no harm. Your Queen does. If not for you or I, your brother would already be dust in the wind."

Tyrion tried to reply, but Daenerys cut in, "Your brother can go with Lord Stark."

Aghast, Tyrion said, "Your Grace, I think your-"

"Making a mistake? Lord Tyrion, I do go tired of you questioning my decisions," Dany told him, harshly. "Unshackle, the Lannister." An Unsullied walked over and unlocked Jaime's chains. Who's expression gave off complete bewilderment. "Lord Stark, I leave Ser Jaime to your care." She rose from her chair and stepped down close to Jaime, "I wish not to see you if I mustn't." She then strolled past them to leave. Missandei picked up her pace to catch up with her. Ser Barristan and all the Unsullied weren't far behind.

Tyrion walked over to Jaime and said, "I'm sorry, brother. I tried my best." He walked away with his head down.

Jaime huffed, "That was totally unexpected."

Jon put his hand on his shoulder, "Oh, don't be daft. This is all working out perfectly."

While with Daenerys or even Maester Aemon - sick as he was - Jon felt almost home within the foreboding dark walls of Dragonstone. While his experience with Arya told him that being among family would bring him joy, it was only with Daenerys that the pain had left and he felt calm again.

However, when Daenerys was with her advisors, meeting with her was less of a comfort and more unsettling. Within the infamous room of the Painted Table - where Aegon the Conqueror, Visenya, and Rhaenys plotted the conquest of Westeros - Daenerys' eyes looked on him with a softness not seen in her expression. Missandei, standing next to her, was equally as kindly. The others… Ser Barristan, the Lord Hand taking his position across from Missandei, was polite. Lord Varys said nothing, while Tyrion was just as skeptical if not more so as he was as they welcomed him in the throne room. All eyed him warily as if he were a foe or something akin to one.

Not hostile, but not to be trusted. If Dany didn't know the truth… His past experiences as a prisoner within these halls - what he remembered of it - loomed largely.

"So what are Stannis' terms?" asked Ser Barristan, cutting through Jon's diplomatic song and dance.

He nodded. "Had to get that out of the way, first. His Grace, King Stannis, first of his name…" Jon noticed Daenerys glower at it, even while knowing of his mummery, "Informed me this morning that I was to present his initial offer with a few changes." Clearing his throat, Jon pulled out a parchment and spoke. "Namely, in exchange for peace and a military alliance, King Stannis is willing to forego any hostile threat to the new Targaryen possessions in Essos."

"Kind of him," Daenerys snorted. "Conceding that which is impossible for him to take."

"We already knew he was likely to ask that," Tyrion mused. "What else?"

"On my advice," Jon continued. "He made the following counteroffer. Namely, you would be allowed to retain Dragonstone and the suzerainty over Houses Velaryon and Celtigar once more as fellow Valyrian houses." That seemed to surprise Daenerys. "Additionally, if you are to commit troops to contain any threat against Westeros, Stannis will support any attempt to rid the Free Cities of slavery."

Thinking on that, Daenerys looked to Missandei, who appeared affronted. "While I appreciate his concern," Missandei said, though by her tone she meant anything but. "It is unnecessary. The masters are dead and Triarch Vhassar of Volantis is committed to emancipating the rest. Tell King Stannis that offering that was dubious at best."

Dany turned back to Jon. "The offer is unacceptable to me. I hold the senior claim to Westeros as the last of the dynasty that actually formed it. I will not accept Stannis' offer lest my crown is returned to me, though I acknowledge that being given Dragonstone is a start." She wouldn't be obstinate or severe, much as she did know what she truly wanted.

Tyrion, quiet for the most part, then spoke up. "Our Queen and her council have deliberated on it for a while. Tell Stannis that he can have the Lord Paramountcy of the Stormlands as well as a senior position in court if he relents."

"He will refuse it, Lord Tyrion."

"Perhaps more land?" suggested Missandei.

"You won't be able to bribe him."

"You'd be surprised who's bribeable," Varys half-scoffed.

"Not Stannis Baratheon, he has the one thing he's always wanted. He won't give it up for nothing," Jon said.

"Perhaps not bribed, but he'll know defeat when he sees it," Ser Barristan said. "If we brought our full force to King's Landing's gates, he'd know he'd lose. He can't compete."

"You think you'll scare him? He is unflappable. He'll fight you tooth and nail until one of you dies," Jon said. His eyes did settle on Dany, "Also, just because you have three dragons, doesn't mean he won't find a way to fight back. A battle between the two of you would cost irreparable damage to the city and kill thousands of innocents."

"No war has been won without thousands of bodies in its wake," Ser Barristan said. "Lives will be lost regardless. I say we fight. He can't beat us."

Jon sighed, "In many cases, you may be right. The full Targaryen army would destroy Stannis'. The dragons could lay waste to it all. Though many would die needlessly. All the townsfolk would know that the sky wasn't on fire until Daenerys Targaryen came to their gates. I can tell you for certain... They will not call you mhysa after that."

Jon's Valyrian was horrendous. But the point got across to Dany. Her hands tightened around the arms of her chair. A strategy that assured her victory (using her dragons on the city) would also assure the deaths of thousands. The tales the smallfolk would tell nothing of Daenerys Targaryen the savior and liberator. Instead Daenerys Targaryen, a murderous conqueror.

Conqueror. A word that's synonymous with her House. A word that she once considered referred to her as well. Surely many would say it did. However, her ancestors may not have cared how the people thought or cared for them. Dany had known love from the people in Essos.

She desired that again.

They wouldn't love her if she roasted thousands of them to dust.

"Do you have a real proposal?" Dany asked Jon.

"I do," Jon nodded. "One that I think will satisfy both sides."

"That'd be something," Tyrion snorted. "But it seems you are full of ideas and persuasion as of late." Not forgetting what had happened in the Throne Room not too long ago. Though he was trying not to show it. He began to feel spiteful toward Jon. Even though they could possibly be close friends given their similar histories and upbringing. Daenerys, as well, feeling nearly enraged at the idea she would roast alive his brother.

"You both want the same thing. Unfortunately, you can't both have it. At the same time, at least." Jon did actually have an alternative idea that might be the solution. However, he didn't want to unearth it then. Seeing as it would create even more discourse.

"That's rather obvious, Stark. Don't you think?" Tyrion sighed.

"Frankly," Ser Barristan began. Then facing his Queen directly, "Your Grace, from what I know of Stannis Baratheon, he will never agree to anything unless he's the one on the Throne. Forever. At least until he has his last breath."

Jon shook his head lightly at Ser Barristan dancing over his idea. He hoped perhaps the Knight's words would strike a spark in Dany's mind. He certainly couldn't be the one to bring it up. In public, at least.

"What? Shall I wait until he is an ageing man?" Dany asked, rolling her eyes. "Who knows how long that could take."

"From all accounts, I've heard Stannis is in fair health. Aside from his long standing injury to his leg," Varys said. "The man is older. But, yes, I suspect he could live another ten to fifteen years if nothing unexpected happens."

"I've waited long enough!" Dany said, hitting her hand down, leaning forward. "My entire life I've been waiting."

"Exactly, Your Grace, you've said it. You've waited long enough," Ser Barristan said, stepping forward. "The Throne can be yours. You just need to take it. You could be sitting on it by nightfall. What else is there to discuss?"

Dany's fists clenched around the arms of her chair. It was true. She could win the Throne by the end of the day if she wanted. She considered it. Jon's brow furrowed at the sight.

"If the massive loss of life doesn't matter to you, Daenerys," Jon started, getting Dany's attention. "Then, I shouldn't have come here at all. Because you are not the Queen I was led to believe you were."

There was a great pause. Everyone looked to Dany, who's eyes widened directly at Jon. Who didn't back down. Seeing that this was going nowhere, Dany shook her head. "Let me confer with Lord Stark alone."

"Your Grace, I must advise against this…"

"If you are worried about him assaulting me, Ser Barristan, then do not. He is unarmed and there are guards stationed at the doors in case I am threatened."

"It is not that," said Tyrion. "But if you would let myself or even Lady Missandei sit in with you…"

She held up her hand, cutting him off. "That won't be necessary. I am perfectly capable of negotiating with Lord Stark myself, Tyrion." She looked at each of her councilors. Missandei looked encouraging of her decision, while Varys - as usual - gave nothing away. "Problem, Lord Varys?"

The Eunuch shook his head. "You are the Queen. All decisions rest with you in the end, your Grace."

A good answer, though it didn't enlighten her as to his position. No matter. "All leave me. We will confer on this without Lord Stark after supper." Missandei and Grey Worm bowed and departed, followed by Varys. Tyrion grimaced but shook his head and left as well, while the last was Ser Barristan.

He stopped in front of Jon, looking into his eyes. "You are much like your father, Lord Stark - do not feel my worries as a lack of respect for you. It is not you, I do not trust… it is who you serve."

"My only servant is peace, Ser Barristan."

A wan smile appeared on the knight's face. "Something Lord Eddard would've said. The world lost much when he departed from it." Sighing, he slipped through the door, the Unsullied guards shutting it behind him.

It was just him and Dany now, something she might've taken advantage of. Perhaps steal a kiss. However, she had anger bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. His last words to her had struck a nerve. She rose from her seat. Jon stayed where he was.

"Who is it you think you are? Speaking to me in front of my advisors?" Dany said.

"You really seemed like you wanted to fly off on your dragons. Kill thousands and thousands of innocents. Possibly more than that. That didn't seem like the Daenerys I know."

"I grew tired of all the discussion," Dany said, heart rate rising. "It was going nowhere. It seemed pointless. Stannis will not move. The only way through is through him. Barristan started to make some sense. He's right. Lives will be lost regardless."

Jon felt the room rise in temperature. The heat cascading off of Dany as she spoke reddened his skin. He didn't entirely fault her for realizing that she could take the throne in less than a day. But he was suspicious of her desire for it. He took a few steps closer to her, unafraid of the flames. "I know you've been waiting for this moment for a long time, Dany," he said. "It seems so close, at the tip of your fingers. But you can do it a different way. You don't have to be like your ancestors. You can be the one who changes things… forever."

Dany's heart began to slow, calming down. Jon continued, "Or, you can be the Mad Queen Stannis is making you out to be. Come in swooping down with Dragonfire. Burn everyone and everything to the ground. You'll win at the end of the day. But your Throne will rest on top of a hundred thousand bones of those who stood in your way. Ash will fill the air from disintegrated bodies." He got to mere feet from Dany now. "You'll win. But they will never love you. They will never forgive you. They will never trust you. They will always hate you. You'll just be more of the same."

Dany exhaled, hanging over. She whispered, "I don't want that."

Jon closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her. "Then let's find another way." She returned the embrace.

A few moments later, Dany backed up, regaining her composure. "You made it clear that you would rather support me, and yet you bring me these terms?"

"Stannis' terms, not mine. My intention is to put you on the throne in any manner possible. To you, I can state it outright. To the others, I must play the part."

She trembled, his words driving her mad. "I know, Jon. By your old gods, I know… You… you swore to Stannis again… In spite of the words we shared, I still have worries from that." Her voice was halting as Jon simply walked into her space, his eyes dark but not in a manner that scared her.

"Do you think I truly swore to him, or simply that he assumed that I did?"

"You are no oathbreaker, Jon Stark."

"No, I am not. I made an oath that I would return to you, and I have." Jon took a step back. "Tell me you think I am an enemy - your enemy - and I will leave and not intrude on your life from now on. At this moment, I am yours to command."

Dany shook her head. "My love for you is already too deep for me to turn back even if it would be the wisest course." She sighed. "Forgive me, Jon. I just find myself tired of this war."

"You and I both. I cannot make Stannis fall, but I can tell you why he seeks the Crown rather than merely being content with taking Storm's End in the face of your dragons." Jon found her listening eagerly. "He is… not that complex. Ruthless and hard, but also one with a keen sense of justice and duty. There is no compassion and flexibility about it, but nor is he a man consumed by lust or brutality as Robert or Cersei had been."

"Men like that always show ambition even if they try not to." The only man she'd seen without such ambition was Jon, who would've been content to simply rule Winterfell till the day he died - was one of the reasons she loved him so. "Stannis would not seek Robert's crown if not so."

Jon nodded. "Aye, he has ambition. However, at this point what drives him is different." Going based on what he learned from Davos, his shattered memories, and Stannis himself, Jon laid it all on the table. "He saw them, the dead."

She tensed. "The ones you warned me about?" Images of the cave paintings came to mind and it made Daenerys shudder.

"I do not remember all of it, but what I do know…" He closed his eyes. "They are monsters, demons from the worst nightmares one can have. One of the reasons, it appears, I followed Stannis so loyally was that he knew the threat and was willing to fight against it." When Jon opened them again, the same wariness she so associated with him was present. If only she had truly known… "But that's not it. Stannis… he sees himself as the Promised Prince."

"The Promised Prince?"

"You know of this prophecy?"

Daenerys shrugged. "Some, it's common knowledge in certain parts of Essos. Azor Ahai, they call him? The Last Hero?"

"Aye, that's it. The way Melisandre says it, the hero that will wield a sword called Lightbringer. In the snow that banishes the night and brings the dawn. At first, she thought Stannis would be the one."

"At first?"

He chuckled dryly. "I think she now thinks I am the one, especially after my resurrection." It was his turn to shrug. "She did do that, and gave me a vision that predicted how you would attack me at Duskendale." Jon saw Daenerys look away with a grimace at that, leading him to squeeze her hand in response. "So I can't dismiss it."

Daenerys looked back at him, lips curled up. "You as the supposed 'Last Hero' would fit how I see you." She smirked at how he scoffed. "Certainly better than Stannis being the one."

"I don't know if it is him, I, or if it exists at all, but Stannis sees himself as the Promised Prince. His zeal and determination are all to consummate this fate. Unless you are willing to burn him out of it, Stannis will never relinquish the Iron Throne."

"So, you wish for me to simply abdicate my claim and remain on Dragonstone or the Bay of Dragons… no, forgive me. I know you don't wish that of me, but is that the only way to obtain peace?"

Jon looked down. "I know not, except in the manner that we need to be creative in our solutions."

"Creative?" Daenerys pursed her lips.

"I think there may be a way to satisfy both you and Stannis," Jon said. "But I don't know if you'll agree. Or he."

"How will I know if you don't tell me?"

"What if Stannis stays on the Throne, until his death. However, when he dies, you get Throne. Your heir marries his heir. So his bloodline survives."

Dany gasped quietly under her breath. Jon wasn't yet fully aware of the reality that she probably couldn't bear any more children. Might not even be possible she could hold up that end of the bargain. "I can't wait fifteen years, Jon," Dany replied. "I can't."

"What's the alternative?"

"Fighting him."

"What does fighting him get you?" Jon said. "Hate. It gets you hate."

A/N: Bruh: This chapter could've been a whole lot longer but we decided to cut it short just to get it out a lot faster. I'm pretty satisfied with these few sections though.

Aemon is really damn old. Jaime gets to hang out with Jon. Tyrion is rather upset. Dany has arrived at a crossroads.

Anyhoo, love the commenter interaction these last few chapters. I'll get more involved here with this one. Can't let Longclaw have all the fun.

See ya again down the road.

Longclaw: Plenty more coming. Had a bunch of needed discussions on Dragonstone before we see what's going on in the North and in King's Landing.

Tyrion is not liking Jon right now.

Until next time! Please comment on the huge new developments. We're gonna try and get this out sooner and the more comments we get the more motivated we will be.