A/N: Sorry, but we're here.
Chapter 57: Playing it Right
The winter chill was finally hitting Dragonstone. Daenerys could feel it, and it was altogether alien to her. A light cloak served on the Dothraki sea, while something slightly heavier worked to banish the winds blowing out from the sea when she first arrived in Westeros, but this was altogether different. Akin to the cold of high above when she rode Drogon but without the warmth of her dragon to stay her shivering.
Without the warmth of her beautiful Jon Stark as was the case the night before.
"Your Grace," she heard Missandei call from the doorway. "His departure is nigh. Are you sure…"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "I refused to truly see him off last time and it was a blight upon me till he returned. I won't deny this to myself again."
Her closest - nay, only, friend bit back a smile. "It is most refreshing to see you seek happiness, my Queen." Without prompting, Missandei entered and grabbed the red-black cloak from where it lay on the bed. She was similarly dressed, albeit in a dark blue style. "We wouldn't wish for you to catch a cold."
"No, I suppose not, but only one of us can seek Drogon's Dragonfire to warm up." An attempt at a jape to lighten the mood. From their matching giggles, it worked - up to a point. "Missandei?"
"Yes, your Grace?"
Daenerys sighed. "Do you trust Jon Stark?" She trusted him… wanted to trust him… aye, she trusted him, but the reticence of everyone else threatened her confidence in herself. She looked to Missandei for support. "Do you trust his devotion to me?"
"You mean whether he is loyal to you or to Stannis?" Dany bit her lip but immediately calmed when Missandei nodded. "I do trust him. That man loves you just as much as you do him."
She let out a breath, relieved. "Hmm."
Missandei smiled, only to click her tongue as the cloak fell into place. "He loves you, and is loyal to you, but don't think that he won't do everything possible to prevent you and Stannis from going to war. His loyalty to your opponent is almost as strong as he would choose you if it came to it."
"But that he will do what it takes so that it doesn't come to it?" Missandei nodded. "Aye, I think so as well."
"Do you wish it to come to that, my Lady?"
"What do you mean?" This talk steadied her nerves. Mayhaps it was just what she needed, a discussion of the state of affairs with someone other than Jon or her council. Jorah was another option, but Missandei happened to be there. "Stannis?"
Her friend was patient and guided them both to the plush bed - sheets changed and quilts put back into proper place after she and Jon… made quite a mess of them the previous night. A magical night she would have to hold onto the memories in order to keep her sanity amid the loneliness. "Aye, Stannis. Do you think he can achieve peace?"
"I certainly think if anyone can, it would be him. Stannis has no heir besides Shireen, who Tyrion says is sickly and shy. He's also old and tired, so even if Tyene Martell bears a living son or daughter, chances are he will die before that child reaches maturity." She closed her eyes. "Better the chance at his dynasty surviving intermixed with that of House Targaryen than him going for it all and losing."
"But there is my question." Dany opened her eyes and gazed at Missandei. Her expression gave nothing away. "Do you want to have to wait for the Throne, given all you have done to seek it and reclaim it?"
She sighed, resting her hands on her lap. "I wish for peace… and I wish for a chance to create for Westeros what I did for the Bay of Dragons. If Stannis wishes for the same, then I will work with him, and I commend Jon for being so devoted as to restrain our most violent impulses." An impulse that Daenerys still believed contributed to Jon's death. He blamed her not, but that didn't mean she blamed herself. "I just…" Dany trailed off.
Missandei seemed to notice. "You what?"
"Nothing."
But her friend was perceptive. "You don't think it will work, do you?"
"I trust Jon, I don't trust Stannis." She shook her head. "He is the brother of the man who usurped my House - Viserys and I were quite different, but we shared the same enemies, just as Jon and his sister and late brother."
"I agree with you. I fear Lord Stark is simply wasting his time." Missandei placed her hands on Dany's, a silent gesture of commiseration that only Missandei was allowed to do, apart from Jon at least. Daenerys appreciated it. "I commend him for his desire, but I do not think it will work - unlike Tyrion or Varys or Barristan, I do not extend that to a lack of loyalty on his part."
A smile. "Thank you, Missandei." Finally, Dany rose, smoothening out her dress and fixing the three-headed dragon clasp to proper order. "Have Grey Worm and Barristan put together a strategy for taking King's Landing by a surprise storm, but do not mobilize anything till I give the order." Her friend nodded.
It was best to be prepared - she was sure that Jon would understand.
What composure she had gained after talking to Missandei had left her as she trudged onto the beach where a skiff waited to take Jon to a boat resting offshore. One glimpse of Jon in his fur coat and Longclaw tied at his waist made her break. She didn't quite run to him, but her riding boots helped her hurry across the sand.
Daenerys thanked the gods for small favors as Jon turned just as she approached him. That beautiful small smile about his face as he opened his arms - and she leaped into the embrace. "Dany," he rasped, voice hoarse with his own emotion.
She inhaled his scent. "Jon." The embrace was savored, his strong grip. "I don't know if this is better or worse than the last time I saw you off, Lord Stark."
"You know I'll return soon."
"But now I've grown used to you." She smiled up at him. "Intimately so, and I liked it."
"So did I," he chuckled. "But this has to be done."
"I know."
He cupped her cheek. "I will come back, with the peace. You have my word on that." Jon kissed her brow. "Do you trust me?"
Dany met his eyes. "I trust you." She wished to believe him and trusted that he would do his damnedest. "Just promise me you'll come back no matter what."
"I promise." His eyes angled back towards the castle. "None of your council came with you. Just your bloodriders." Dany bit her lip. She couldn't deny that. "They are wrong, about me. Don't let them change your mind."
"I am the Queen, and I am not my father." He didn't let her say anything else, only kissing her. A deep, toe-curling kiss as all else disappeared between them. Merely two lovers enjoying themselves. One final moment of passion before yet another separation.
It wasn't fair, but they weren't just any pair of lovers. Daenerys knew her duty, and so did Jon.
A shadow passing overhead was joined by a large thud landing on the cliff above the beach. Daenerys broke from the kiss to look up. "Rhaegal?"
The green dragon watched them, his amber eyes… almost mournful? "He's… not angry, correct?"
Somehow Jon's nervousness made Daenerys laugh. Head falling into his chest. "Aye, he's not angry. Upset, but likely cause he senses my mood."
"Drogon is your dragon, no? The black one?"
"Aye, but they're all my children. They know I'm upset that you are leaving." She reached up to cup his cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too, Dany. I will return to you."
She smiled. "You made that promise once and kept it." Their eyes locked. "Now keep your promise again."
"I hate the snow."
"You've been in worse snow than this, Bull."
"Yes… but I still hate the snow."
Arya Stark swatted Gendry in the shoulder. "You're an idiot, but you're good with a hammer."
"Not to mention good on the eyes… if you're a lady that is," said Thoros of Myr, chuckling in his half-drunk drawl.
A glare from Bran Stark's sister - one that hearkened back to her days of emotionless rage at the House of Black and White. They had seen all of it in detail. "I'm no lady, and shut it."
Beric Dondarrion laughed. "Just means she wants him more."
"I haven't taken you off my list yet, so watch it."
The beast stepped forward, eyes giving them a keen glimpse of the group. Not expert stalkers of animals, they were gathered nevertheless in a hollow diamond around the few pack animals and the horse in which Arya Stark rode. The smith - Robert Baratheon's bastard, just as strong and skilled with a hammer as his father had been - hadn't left Arya's side for most of the journey.
No, this would not be easy… not be easy at all.
Able to take control of an animal or human, they were not an animal. Unlike some wargs, they did not intend to allow their quarry to share control, and as such they wouldn't have access to what this wolf knew of how to stalk prey through the woods. How to approach without being seen or heard.
The snap of a twig underneath the wolf's paws startled even him.
Expert trackers they were not, at least not to the level of animals, but they all noticed the snap and tensed. "Where?" shouted Beric in a harsh whisper. No need to shout or panic, but a veteran of battle.
Arya was a veteran of more than just that. Dangerous, if made less so by her remaining sentimentality. "There," she pointed in the direction of the wolf, senses sharp.
If only she had stayed among the Faceless Men. A ruthless killer without sentimentality was something far less likely to interfere.
They had planned for this, and quickly the wolf's gaze receded - replaced instead by that of a sparrow resting above in the canopy of the trees. Disoriented, the wolf stumbled out onto the forested trail, shaking its head and whimpering. Seemingly missing the several spears and notched arrows pointed its way.
"Easy, boys, easy," Thoros snorted, laughing. "It looks drunk."
"Not hunting," mused Arya.
Gendry sniffed. "I don't know wolves, but that thing isn't a threat." The wolf finally noticed them, but whimpered. They watched it skid back, afraid.
Weak.
"It's alone." The second one they feared, the Reed girl, watched the lone beast with rapt attention. "Wolves are never alone unless scouts…"
"Then it's a fuckin' scout," Thoros mused.
"Scouts never show themselves…" The beast whimpered and scurried back into the trees. "It's odd, very odd." Meera hadn't drawn her blade, or her bow. It was as if the arrival of the wolf - she wasn't afraid of it.
The sparrow blinked its eyes, watching the party move on through the woods. They didn't take sight off Reed, or Arya Stark. They were the most dangerous, the former because she knew of them and the latter because she knew of the diary. Of the Raven moreso than any other. Aemon Targaryen knew their past vessel, and Aemon Targaryen told Jon Stark, who told Arya Stark.
If she told Meera Reed…
No.
A flash of white found them back into the cavernous chambers in which 'Bran Stark' called home. Dreadfully trite, but they didn't mind. It was safe.
Feeling cold, they worked the stiff arms of their human form. Reaching down to grab a log and toss it into the hearth. A being of the ice and darkness, the fire faciated them - the source of the power of their ultimate foe. The one that could harm them permanently, not the temporary dangers that Arya Stark or Meera Reed were.
Fear them they did not, at least not in the grand scheme of things. Shame our earlier vessel wasn't the powerful man he once had been. That would have been interesting, but this was close enough to ultimate triumph and he wouldn't be delayed again. Not like how Hoare…
They shook their head. Taking in a deep breath, the chill in Bran Stark's human lungs invigorating their mind. The Brotherhood was too powerful to take on now. More beasts, more power… not to mention they didn't know where the diary was. Only Aemon, and he was dead, but passed on the information to Arya Stark through Jon Stark.
Let Arya get the diary.
Let them leave Castle Black.
By then, we'll be ready.
And the diary would disappear into the woods of the North forever.
For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile crossed their face.
Lurching in the sand, sailors scrambled out of the skiff and were joined by servants rushing from the shore to pull it onto the beach. Jon steadied himself, not wishing to fall or wobble too much. It was best that he stand firm and secure, given the delegation that waited to greet him.
For someone of his stature, a delegation was necessary. Baelish, Hand of the King, and Davos were present, which didn't shock him. What did make him do a double take was that the King was also standing in the sand. Kingsguards surrounded him and he was dressed in a simple gambeson in the Baratheon colors still as wiry and fit as ever… but as Jon scrutinized him there was a levity about the King.
Stannis was happy. He looked very happy and content - likely for the first time Jon ever knew him, had his memories been intact. He is a newlywed. Certainly, Jon had looked similar after properly connecting with Daenerys as he had desired.
Daenerys.
It wasn't lost on him that the Jon of old would be greatly uncomfortable with mummery. Sam had said he nonetheless did it with the Free Folk, so too would he do it here. As he sought to save the Free Folk too, he would also save Stannis.
You will bring peace. He repeated this mantra in his mind as he exited the skiff, leaping off the side and landing on the surf, boots squelching in the wet sand. You will bring peace.
The mummery began as soon as he approached the King. "Your Grace." He bent the knee, playing the role. Truth be told, he preferred to bend the knee to Daenerys… in more ways than one.
Stannis reacted equally if not similarly as excited as Daenerys. "Rise, Jon, my boy." His voice was still gruff, but Stannis held a smile on his lips as he embraced Jon tightly. "The gods shine their beneficence upon me to see you safe and unharmed after entering the dragon's den."
He cracked a small grin. "I survived it once, Your Grace. As the old saying goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Stannis chuckled. "Quite true, quite true. Now, come. Let us head to my solar. We have much to discuss." Jon allowed the King to lead him off, while Davos and Littlefinger followed him.
"Lord Stark." He stiffened as he heard Baelish's pleasant voice. A man that could put one at ease, but Jon never was. Perhaps instinct, though a faint memory of a redhead speaking about him filled his mind. Sansa, my sister. She told him not to trust Baelish, and Jon wouldn't. "It is heartening to all of us that the Dragon Queen did not harm you."
He would not give this man anything. "She is committed to peace. Of course, I would not be harmed."
"We shall soon see the truth of that, won't we." Was that a threat? Even Jon couldn't read this man. "But I heard that the Kingslayer has accompanied you."
Stannis' brow rose. "Jaime Lannister? Is this true?"
Jon furrowed his brows, thinking. "Queen Daenerys gave him to me, he is my prisoner."
"He was my prisoner. He should return to the Black Cells."
"Your Grace." Jon wouldn't argue with Stannis, instead making a reasonable plea. Not wishing to sound too desperate. "House Stark has suffered more than anyone from the Lannisters. Lord Tyrion is untouchable though he ordered the death of my brother Brandon." Littlefinger's face was placid, while Stannis raised a brow. "Allow me as the son of Ned Stark to punish him as I see fit."
Stannis was silent… until he nodded. "Aye, that is both fair and just. He is yours." Still, Littlefinger said nothing, but Jon was sure he had won this opening round of the begun dick-measuring contest.
He'd fought Tyrion Lannister, so he recognized it when he saw it. However smart Tyrion was, Jon figured Baelish would be more of a challenge.
The rest of the journey up Aegon's High Hill was… anticlimactic. Stannis made small talk, to which Jon replied as best he could. Matters about health and comfort mostly, while Jon asked about her Grace Queen Tyene. Stannis could not stop gushing about her, for once a bit of serenity about him that seemed quite alien. Not unwelcome - a rested, happy King was more likely to be persuaded to accept the peace terms in order to enjoy the tranquil rest of his days.
Happier though he was, age had still settled upon the Stag King. Ten years, fifteen at most. Plenty of time for Daenerys to complete her work in Essos, then rule over Westeros for another twenty to thirty years.
And Jon saw himself by her side all throughout.
Finally, they reached the solar of the King, a place Jon remembered distinctly. With the smell of smoke mostly gone, the place had a better air to it, though some came from a few home touches more than just Baratheon banners. "I see you're admiring it," Stannis spoke, his limp returning as the Kingsguard closed the door to leave the two of them their privacy. "Shireen insisted on putting in a feminine touch. Not too much, lest I be like that pillow-biting Tyrell boy, but enough to lighten things."
Having essentially made a female's bedchamber his home for the past weeks, Jon nodded. "I understand." He made to sit.
"No, don't," Stannis barked out, motioning to the table between them when Jon was about to sit. "Bring your chair here - you have earned the right to face me directly." A glorious honor, a sign of Stannis' continued loyalty to him. Even hardened as he was, Jon rubbed the back of his neck humbly. "How was it? With the Dragon Bitch?" Stannis asked as soon as Jon sat across from him.
Jon stiffened, trying not to scowl. "Your Grace, she is someone you wish to make an accord with, and your second cousin by way of blood." Bringing up their shared kin was something that might predispose him to agree. "We want peace."
"Do we?" Stannis stared hard at him as if trying to read Jon's emotions. "What did she say to you, exactly? Tell me."
This was the moment of truth. "She was not inclined to give up her claim, as you aren't, but as I came up with a solution to secure both your claims she was interested."
"I see… and you're sure of this? This… succession where she is my heir, then her heir marries my child with Tyene?"
"She is only willing if you accept her independent rule over the Bay of Dragons." Stannis waved him off as if that didn't matter to him. One condition meant. "And that you hold up your end of the bargain as her cousin and blood kinsmen."
Stannis sighed. "I remember my grandmother Rhaelle - the sweetest woman." He grew wistful but continued. "But she is not married, Jon… or is that taken care of?" His brow raised, while the ghost of a smirk crossed his lips.
Jon smiled back. "Between you and I, there is a betrothal that she is interested in."
"Good, very good." A concerned look came on Stannis' face, almost fatherly. "Would it be asking too much of you, Jon? You've broken your father's honor to seduce her, and now to take her to wife? To go to Essos?"
He took a deep breath. "The North is in good hands with Sansa and Rickon. For you, for peace, I will do what I must."
"I always saw you as a son to me, and in this, you are, as far as I'm concerned." He tapped the desk. "I still believe somewhat that I do not need this peace. That I can win this war regardless of the losses. What do you say to that?"
Again he waited, formulating his thoughts. "You are Lightbringer, prepared to bring the dawn against the Long Night. He was prophesied to unite the living against the dead, not to add more meat to the Night King's army."
Jon paused, wondering if he should state these next words or not. He decided, fuck it.
"Your Grace, I've spent ample time on Dragonstone now," Jon began. "Daenerys has many, many loyal followers. Her forces… honestly exceed yours twice over, and in firepower… those dragons bring fire and brimstone, more than you can ever imagine. I've seen it as a battle. There is no true counter."
"What of those spear launchers?"
"They may make a dent… or if there are two or three well places spears could take one down," Jon shrugged. "The odds of that… low, Your Grace. They fly at a high speed. I only witnessed one dragon in battle. Three? Unstoppable."
"So, you're saying—"
"My plan, the plan for peace between the two of you, is likely in your best interest, Your Grace, respectfully."
Stannis nodded, "I thank you greatly for telling me this. Not often do I hear it as it is, you know. What I hear seems…"
"Sugarcoated?"
"Yes, my boy, sugarcoated."
"I only wish for peace, Your Grace. We've fought over the Iron Throne for too long. Let the lives lost decrease. Not increase. Not to mention, a true battle between you and Daenerys… the dead bodies would reach the heavens," Jon shook his head at the thought.
Stannis nodded, "So much blood…"
"Too much blood."
For the longest time, Stannis was silent, stroking his beard. "I," he finally began. "Will bring this before the small council. Then I will make a decision."
As the Kingsguard closed the door behind him, Jon found himself face-to-face with Davos. "Lad, welcome back." He embraced Jon just as tightly as Stannis did, and Jon allowed himself to return the embrace, squeezing. Truly, he was relieved and overjoyed to see Davos again. But his brows furrowed when Davos spoke into his ear. "Let us talk in my solar."
An obvious code. It's not safe to talk out in the open. He nodded, following. "I trust everything is shipshape, Davos?"
"Ah, everything has been wonderful since the wedding of their Graces. The Queen's influence has mended relations among the King and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms… apart from the unfortunate situation in the Reach."
"The Dragon Queen defeated Baelor Hightower in battle and he bent the knee, agreeing to accede to the wardenship of Garlan Tyrell. Unfortunately, the situation is where he is stuck."
"Further war is something his Grace doesn't desire."
"I know," Jon spoke just as Davos ushered him into nondescript chambers. "Alright, Davos," he spoke softly. "May we speak freely?"
Davos nodded. "Aye, now tell me. Did the Dragon Queen agree to peace?"
Jon sighed. "She has, but her council is divided."
"Did you inform Stannis of this?" Davos said after a silence.
"Only the former."
"Jon…"
"This deal has to go through Davos, you know this." He groaned. "Gods, this war has to end, and the only way is if both parties come out satisfied with the outcome, if not completely happy with it."
Sighing, Davos sat in his chair, leaning back. "What has the Dragon Queen said of the matter? Of what she wishes?"
Even with Davos, whom he did trust, Jon had to weigh exactly what he could afford to tell him. "She is… eager to finish what she started in the Bay of Dragons - Slaver's Bay."
"She changed the name, eh?" Davos shrugged. "Good. The place was an eyesore anyway. Once grandeur is inhabited by insects selling each other like beasts of burden. If she wishes to end that monstrosity then I'm in her corner, but as for Westeros?"
"Daenerys is willing to accept Stannis' rule as long as she is named heir and earns the oaths of all his sworn lords," he repeated, "And wishes for her heir to be of herself and one of Stannis' allies."
Davos' brow rose as a grin spread over his face. "One of Stannis' allies, huh? Anyone specific? Perhaps with black hair, grey eyes, and broods all the time?"
"Aye."
"Did… you two practice for the weddin' night?"
He blushed even redder. "Aye." It was like confessing to one's father.
Davos clapped him on the back. "Good on ya', lad. You deserve this." His smile faded. "But her small council?"
The thought of her council made Jon's blood boil. "Her closest friend is on my side, as are Lord Greyjoy and perhaps Ser Garlan, but that's it. Barristan the Bold and Varys don't trust Stannis, while Ser Jorah Mormont isn't inclined to trust anyone."
"And Lord Tyrion?"
"Tyrion hates me. Not Stannis, me. I think he's threatened."
"Aye, you're very threatening, lad." He furrowed his brows. "Myself and her Grace are in favor of this deal, as I hope is Stannis…?" Davos trailed off.
"He's considering it, but wishes to ask the Small Council for their opinions in my presence."
"Then you'll run into your major obstacle, Littlefinger."
"Not surprised Baelish is causing trouble. Also threatened by it?"
"I think he's not looking forward to having to worm his way into the good graces of the Dragon Queen instead of a child of Stannis' loins." Davos shrugged. "So we need to worry about both Tyrion and Littlefinger?"
Jon leaned against the wall. "As long as Daenerys doesn't let Tyrion poison her mind, and we interfere with Littlefinger's attempts to do so with Stannis, I think peace is at hand."
Davos poured two goblets of wine and handed one to Jon. "Gods' willing." Aye, Jon planned to get good and drunk tonight, downing it with a single gulp.
Grey Worm hadn't placed both his feet on the stone jetty for three seconds before Missandei launched herself at him. The embrace crushing, but she couldn't help herself. "You came back to me, love."
He hugged her back, though his expression was devoid of a smile - Unsullied training was hard to break. "I promised, did I not?"
She leaned back m, shaking her head. "In Common Tongue."
A groan. "Truly? Why?"
"Until you are fluent, Torgo Nudho."
Narrowing his eyes, he finally sighed which she rewarded with a beaming smile. "I hope I get kiss when I come back, not attack… that right word?"
"Criticize, is what you're looking for." She chuckled and gave him a kiss. One that deepened, unable for her not to. If this is what my Queen feels about Lord Stark, not only can I not blame her but she is a lucky woman. None of them knew truly the value of such a bond of affection and love.
Reunion… complete for now, though Missandei hoped for more later, their composure returned and they walked side by side rather formally towards the stairs leading ip for the keep. "Why does Queen pull me from Rosby?" he asked, brow raised. "We not attack King's Landing?"
Missandei shook her head. "Daenerys has a chance to make peace with the Stag King?"
"Do we want peace? We come to win. For Queen on throne."
"He made a compelling argument for peace."
"Who?"
"Jon Stark."
Grey Worm's eyes widened. "He come back?" While for all of Jon's absence and his return Grey Worm had been on the front lines, he had witnessed Jon's death at Daario's hands and his resurrection by Melisandre. There was no forgetting the Lord of Winterfell. "Why?"
"As Stannis' peace envoy, though I suspect it was merely to see our Queen." A smile curled on her face. "They are lovers."
"Ah, I see." The topic… wasn't one Grey Worm seemed comfortable talking about. "So he fight for Stag or Mhysa?"
"He wants peace, though if push comes to shove I believe he will fight for her." She raised her brow at him. "Do you believe peace is worthy of getting? Or that it is achievable?"
Grey Worm was quiet for a moment, face stony. "If my Queen desires peace, then I desire peace, as long as her interests are served. Yet, I trust no Lord or knight to keep word. They are masters in truth."
Poignant. Missandei truly had nothing to say in response, for what was else to say?
It was the two of them that arrived at the Small Council first - apart from the two Red Priestesses, that is. Daenerys beamed at the sight of Grey Worm, although even such a radiant smile couldn't hide how tired and sunken her eyes were. Clearly missing Jon Stark, enduring a bed for once without him beside her. Missandei knew the feeling quite well and empathized. "Torgo Nudho, it warms my heart to see you returned to me unhurt and victorious."
He wasn't one to bask in praise. "I cannot say we are victorious. King's Landing still in hands of Stag."
"Yes, well…" Missandei didn't know what to make of Tyrion when he first arrived. A smart man, if naive in the ways of Essos. Later she had warmed to him as his counsel evolved, and been an irreplaceable member of her Grace's circle of advisors. Now though, the arguments he insisted on instigating simply gave her a headache. "That is the gist of the situation, now is it."
"Enough, Lord Tyrion," Daenerys warned. "Let us wait for the rest before we discuss matters."
Missandei watched Tyrion take a seat the closest around the Painted Table to where King's Landing was. No one was lost on the symbolism. "Yes, I can wait, your Grace."
Waiting for the others, Missandei took her position on her Queen's right. The place of honor. "How are you, your Grace?"
"I'm fine," she replied.
Missandei nodded. "Lady Lynesse worked well on your braids." Missandei had spent her morning preparing for Grey Worm's arrival, and so it had been the newly arrived hostage from the Reach to prepare Dany - naturally, she was given quarters far from Ser Jorah's. "Please forgive me for not being able to…"
Daenerys waved her off. "No, Grey Worm was more important. I am happy for you." Her tone was subdued.
"Worried about Lord Stark, your Grace?" Dany bit her lip but nodded, both Theon Greyjoy and Garlan Tyrell entering the small council chamber. "He'll be fine."
"You don't know that."
"Stannis won't harm him - mayhaps he is the one person thought of highly by both monarchs and their retinues."
"Not everyone," murmured the Queen, her eyes affixed on Lord Tyrion greeting Lord Varys and Ser Barristan. Moments later, the Hand took his place to the left of the Queen. "Alright, let us begin." She looked to Grey Worm. "Your return was uneventful?"
Grey Worm nodded. "Normally we get raids from Stag King, but now there is a lull. They are not raiding, and nor do we."
"Mayhaps they're biding their time," Tyrion mused. "For something big."
"Or they're not making any move until the outcome of negotiations," Garlan spoke, rare for him in one of these. "Lord Varys, do you have any clarity on this?" Daenerys also looked upon Lord Varys as did Missandei, the same question dancing in their minds.
Varys cleared his throat. "My little birds are still spotty in King's Landing, but all of them have said the Stag King is in a good mood these days. Quite domestic with his new bride, and the arrival of Jon Stark to the capital."
"Why did you not tell me that Jon Stark had arrived?" Daenerys' tone was put off.
"I was to do it in this meeting," Varys replied.
"Yes, I do believe you were." The Queen did not sound convinced, but let it go. "All we must do now is wait for Stannis' reply to the tentative peace offer. Assuming he includes no unacceptable conditions, then the peace will be accepted."
"Will we depart for the Bay of Dragons then, your Grace?" Missandei asked. She couldn't deny she wasn't a bit anxious to finish the end of slavery there. Some attention from the now far more powerful Daenerys would conclude the last bits of reform needed.
Daenerys shook her head. "No, I still must introduce myself here as the heir and future Queen, show the people of Westeros that I am not just a monster as my father was."
"Wise, your Grace, wise," Barristan spoke.
"I didn't realize you were in favor of the proposed treaty," Ser Jorah spoke for the first time, previously silent as he stood close to the red priestesses.
Barristan blinked. "If she chooses peace, then that is a smart plan."
"Hedging, I see."
"All of you are hedging," Tyrion spoke abruptly, drumming his fingers upon the table. "We have all before us to take King's Landing now, and yet we don't. Choosing some period in the future to rule when anyone could betray us and force us to fight this war all over again."
"You disagreed with such a course of action when we first came here, Lord Tyrion," Missandei brought up, remembering the first war council. When Ellaria Sand, Olenna Tyrell, and Yara Greyjoy were still alive - as was Daario Naharis. "Quite a change."
"Circumstances have changed."
"Your family not within King's Landing," Theon offered.
Tyrion glared at him, "No, Greyjoy, my brother is still there if I recall correctly - with Jon Stark." His voice was bitter, Missandei could tell. "My sister and Stannis have already let loose the firestorm over the city. Whatever taboo was there has been broken, and if our Queen decides to attack even with her dragons, the blame for turning it into a battlefield rests squarely with Cersei and Stannis."
Varys pursed his lips. "A valid point."
"Valid, but one I will not do," Daenerys said with finality. "I meant what I said about not being the Queen of the Ashes. I would rather inherit a peaceful Kingdom in ten years than assume dominion over a wasteland now."
"I must protest against this foolishness…"
"Is it only you that doth protest?" Daenerys looked over those present. Not one made a sound, not even Varys or Barristan, the two most fearful of Jon Stark's influence. Missandei saw Jorah… almost in pride of Daenerys. We wish her to rule, we trust her. Look out for her but trust her. The others had their own interests at heart. "It is only you."
"Much like your brother you think with your…"
"Finish that sentence, I urge you." Daenerys' eyes affixed on Tyrion as he trailed off. An insult unfinished.
Missandei waited to see if he would finish it, but the Imp wasn't stupid. "Forgive me, your Grace. Sometimes my mouth moves without me thinking."
"See that it doesn't happen again." And so the council moved on, all but Missandei. Eying Tyrion, perhaps she was the only one that surmised he knew exactly what he was thinking.
The bottle was two-thirds empty. An expensive vintage, one that Tyrion didn't expect Stannis to have the palate to truly appreciate when he found it in the wine cellar upon their arrival on Dragonstone. Mayhaps it was Rhaegar Targaryen that collected it. Aye, that was more likely. Regardless though, he was the one who enjoyed it.
Finishing his goblet, the Imp poured some more until it was filled to the brim. Sipping enough that the cup wouldn't spill at some accidental jostling. He had arrived in his chambers barely after the meeting of the small council after conferring with Ser Barristan and Varys about something, both individually.
Both agreed with him, but neither could do anything about it.
Tyrion huffed. "Fools. Small-minded ones." Barristan is too loyal, and Varys too narrow-minded in his thinking. Obsessed with small-scale plots and espionage.
The spymaster could get all the information in the world, but could he use it? Tywin Lannister could, and as Tyrion said years ago in that damned privy, he was more Tywin's son than any other.
So why was this so damned hard?
Picking up the goblet, Tyrion shimmied off his seat and ambled towards the window. Again reminding him with every step he took that he was a dwarf. "Well, Jon Stark, I was wrong. Dwarves are worse than bastards. At least you can blend in with the rest of them. Get a King to remove most of the stain away." Jon was not there, and he didn't even stare at a portrait or a sculpture. "Yes, I'm drunk."
He drank and he knew things, but did he do those at the same time? Tyrion fancied that he could. That he could take some of his father's mantle from him.
"How did you do it, father? How did you defeat the Reynes? The Mad King? Robb Stark?" The answer was obvious - amoral brutality, ones that picked off the weakness of each person he faced. Reyne's overconfidence, Targaryen paranoia, Stark's honor. "But I will not be able to do what you do." His fist clenched as he cast damnation on the dead. "Damn you, Daario Naharis… you fucking fool."
Aye, Jon Stark was his enemy. Tyrion could see it night and day, but unlike with Daario, it wasn't personal. That was Daario's flaw - even after the Queen rejected him, he was obsessed. A jilted lover seeking a return to the bed of his former mate. That Daario picked the true threat to Daenerys' ambitions was not the point, he hadn't known that. He'd thought with his cock.
Tyrion knew a lot about that, but not one woman had touched him since Shae died. Since I killed her. He attacked his wine, forcing himself to drink till that memory went away. Gasping for breath as he drained half the goblet, he was forced to steady himself. "Fuck…" he could take much but wasn't a machine.
No, Jon Stark wasn't Stannis' toy. Tyrion could read people, and what he saw pointed to a lovestruck puppy rather than a deceptive spy. He's like I was with Tysha, with Shae, only it is not her that is the one that will stab in the back. Jon Stark was hopelessly naive. Hopelessly outclassed in this game of peacemaker.
Stannis would never give in. And nor should Daenerys.
"She needs to see reason, that he is a fool who would lead her to ruin." That Daenerys should accept him into her confidence again, and all would be well. Stannis killed, the Throne hers.
She could even have Jon again, but as a consort… or tossed back North to where he actually belonged.
"I won't let her kingdom wither away," he said to himself as he squinted over the sea, trying to make out the dragons fishing under the moonlight. "She forged it, and I helped her hold it. If someone doesn't do something, Jon Stark will have it all frittered away at the cusp of her victory."
He knew what he had decided to do would probably lead to his death. It ended that way for Daario, even if that fool had committed blatant murder while his efforts were more subtle, but Dany wasn't one to label treason as something else. Mayhaps this technically was, but Tyrion felt that there just wasn't any other choice. The deal is just that, a piece of paper Stannis will break as soon as he can.
If it broke sooner, when Daenerys was still ready to take it all, then all so much the better. "Daario, you bastard, I am playing your game. Playing it right."
He poured himself another large goblet of Arbor Gold and promptly downed it. He would need to fortify himself as he sat back at his desk and dipped his quill in ink. I did enjoy the intellectual sparring sessions with you, old friend. It felt good to begin them again, especially for the greatest cause of all.