The smell of roasted venison pulled her out from behind Drogon's eyes. Though she seldom meandered in her dreams now, Daenerys did her best to pay the black dragon at least a brief visit every night. He knows I am most occupied, she realized as Jon stuck a few strips a bit too pink to eat over the fire in their hearth. She couldn't help but smile, remembering the shrieks and chirps that filled her ears through Drogon's in the godswood. As I know he is. When the meat was not forthcoming, Dany huffed, shushing Ned as she did so. Stashed beneath her coat and nuzzling her, he was as comfortable as he was like to be, yet still he fussed occasionally.
"Is he hungry?" Jon asked from his seat as he poked the fire.
"I just fed him. Perhaps it's his father coming out in him, brooding about how hard it must be to be a prince. Nobody understands him, all alone in the world, boohoo." Daenerys said.
"Or it's his mother, always fussing and rattling off her titles until she's red as a ruby and all the air's been sucked from the room." Jon suggested, smirking.
"Hmph." Dany huffed.
"Hmph, hmph." Jon replied.
"Hmph!" Rose blurted helpfully from under the bed.
"Are you under there again? You're a wolf pup, not a mouse." Jon asked, peeking below while Rose giggled. When Jon came back up, Rose was on his shoulders and grinning ear to ear. Her fooling quieted and she went wide-eyed when she caught sight of Ned, as she always did.
"Ned." she whispered, pointing.
"Ned." Jon agreed, holding a finger to his lips. Ned, Daenerys thought, looking down for the hundredth time to spot his little head flush to her breast. When I first held the iron egg, you kicked so hard I thought you might join us early and never mind the will of the gods. "What is it?" Jon asked quietly as he sat down at her bedside. "Is it your hand?"
"I shan't ever be a seamstress, but aside from that painful truth it doesn't bother me much. Maybe it's just the cold. I'll look a fool wielding fork and knife from now on-"
"As if you could be bothered with an appetite like yours." Jon cut in, kissing the newest brace of rags that knotted between her thumb and little finger. Rose leaned down to peer into Daenerys' arms, gaping unabashedly at the sight of the babe. "What of Ghost, what has he gotten up to?" Jon's warm expression tempered, as if hit by an unexpected squall of cold rain.
"I expect he's still trying to make out what happened to Lady. A thousand wild rumors have been roiling through Winterfell regarding Sansa's direwolf, to say nothing of Sansa herself. All I know is she hasn't been seen, and it's not like her to sit in a corner with a bucket on her head."
"But Ghost would know if Lady had…" she tried to find the right word, "gone, surely?"
"I think so. That bit of him's beyond my reach though, and if he think's it's not my business, it's not my business."
"And he's quite right. You've a son to mind, and a clutch of hatchlings besides. Sansa and Lady are…where they wish to be, and should they seek to rejoin us, I'm sure they will."
It took the rest of the morning to bundle her and Ned up to Val's satisfaction when she returned with Dalla from Tormund's camp. While Jon kept his girls busy at the hearth, Val told Daenerys the latest gossip.
"It's come to light that the southrons with the grapes on their garb know where the best wine is." she reported, smirking ruefully. "Everyone's happy to give a seat to one should they show up."
"The Redwynes and their worthies. From the Arbor." Daenerys told her.
"Aye." Val rubbed her mouth. "Might be someone should do something about that and soon. Nobody's seen the father since the battle, or so I hear, and by southron reckoning that puts his pretty daughter in quite a spot."
"Hmm." Daenerys murmured, seeing her point immediately.
"Oh, not you, moonling. I think the lordly lords are having another one of their councils, ducks trying to out-quack each other. All you're to do is mind your babe, keep warm and call for food when you're hungry."
"That sounds a bit more manageable…but there's more than one babe to mind just now, isn't there?"
"Dalla doesn't fuss half so- oh." Val said, blue eyes going wide and cheeks going pink. She looked to Dalla more than a little nervously, watching the girl take tiny strips of venison from Jon's hand and gum on them thoughtfully, a far cry from Rose's gulping then down.
"Oh, she's got manners! Are you sure Jon's the father?" Dany said, loud enough for Jon to hear.
"It so happens I am, I'm sorry to say. Not so sorry as to wish she'd been sired by the kneelers about me in those days, though. A sorrier brace of fools I've never seen…though I may, when Dalla gets a bit older."
"Oh, gods, give me a moment's peace." Jon groaned, both women giggling. The prospect Val presented gave Dany pause after her mirth passed. I'm sure Jon's daughters will turn every head no matter where they end up, court or camp. What of you, my prince?
"The Targaryens of old put eggs in their babes' cradles." Daenerys said as they neared the godswood, the path cleared ahead of time with sundry excuses so as to keep the matter private. As private as it's like to be with all the realm in Winterfell, anyway.
"That seems…unwise. What's a hatchling to do upon cracking out only to find a squalling pink lump next to it?" Val opined, holding Dalla close.
"Much of what House Targaryen did could well be deemed unwise. Like shutting the dragons up in a great pit, for example." Daenerys answered.
"Or holding such stock in which arse perches on a chair made of swords. Because that's just what was needed. The Conqueror must have looked about and gone 'what a sorting I've given Westeros. Now I think I'll sit on a chair made of swords.'" Jon intoned as Val smirked and Dany snorted. "Might be we'll replace it with one made of blades of razor ice, see if anyone's as keen to sit on that." We didn't kill enough Others to find swords for such a chair. It wasn't Jon's absurd notion that bothered Daenerys and besides, the Iron Throne had followed those that sought to sit it. It was the Others themselves. They did not lose. We did not win. They are still out there, somewhere to the north, to say nothing of what might be going on across the breadth of Westeros. Jon seemed to sense her unease, slipping a hand in hers as the other held Rose's.
"The Targaryens of old were given most everything they ever held. Not so with us." he told her.
"Perhaps it's best the Targaryens to come ought follow in our footsteps, then." Daenerys replied. If they can be called Targaryens at all. Those before had worn silk and sat thrones and ruled. Those to come would wear fur and sit logs 'round a fire and lead, if the gods were good. Arsing about while a brace of lords does what needs doing, building roads and collecting taxes. Though I'd sooner put Drogon in charge of funds than more than one highborn man I've met. No guardsmen stood on the threshold of the godswood. With its current occupants being who and what they were, no one among men much felt the need to intrude. Viserion for once had gone without sinking up to his snout in the water, though whether that was quite his decision or one made for him by the countless bits of blackened bone littering both the godswood and his pool seemed an open question to Dany. Instead he lazed at water's edge, eyes shut and all but immobile.
"A shock, that." Jon said on seeing the white dragon snore like a fat man after a feast.
"He's not about to leave Meera behind, is he? Or did you expect him to pop back to the Neck for a dropping-in on his paramour when he got the chance?" Daenerys asked.
"When it comes to lizard-lions, I'm not the twin to ask." Jon replied.
Drogon was laid out further on, in the embrace of the thickest copse of pines that had not been felled by the storms. Dany could only smile sadly. A few pines do not the Green Hell make. On her approach, the black dragon's head drifted up over the ground to sniff at her. She brought Ned's tiny head to her cheek, though she was certain Drogon was well aware of what had occurred since she'd left his company. When she laid herself flush to the side of his head, earning a contented sigh, she spotted half a dozen glittering gems stuck in his spikes and spines. When men wander too far into the weeds, they come back with mud in their shoes. You came back with a merchant prince's worth stuck to your chin. When men venture into savage lands, they quail and avert their eyes at the antics of those they deem savage. You took a roaring god-lizard more than twice your size beneath you and mastered her. You are not the hatchling born on the Dothraki Sea any longer. He was not acting the khal on wings then, only rumbling impassively on hearing the fussing of the girls. Val let out a squeak on realizing how close to Drogon she'd gotten, Dalla burbling as she tried to brush the moss of the godswood with her little feet. We were not the only ones to have to fight for what we have, Dany reflected.
"Now, where do you think they've got to?" Jon asked, looking about with Rose on his shoulders.
"They're only the littlest things, surely they haven't up and left on us?" Val asked.
"Hardly." Dany replied, content to remain where she was for the moment. "It will be some time before they can fly at length. It was so in Essos."
"Still here, then. Have they gone off for a bit of a hide? Small chance we have to find them." Jon said flatly.
"Only the blue is dark enough to lose in this, Snow. The others are bright as high sun and full moon." Val intoned. "Trust your Stark blood to see the fly in the ale, always." Her comment made Dany giggle.
"Perhaps, but that just makes him more amusing to tease." she said, finally standing.
"Nobody saw Rhaegal leave this morning, did they?" Jon mused. "Might be he's on hatchling duty. Wouldn't be the worst thing, elsewise they'd come up stomping around like roosters and shrieking at each other or lost to the lake's depths, learning the lizard-lion trade." Another shape moved behind a tall trio of soldier pines, eyes of molten bronze regarding them carefully from the shadows.
"Raygul!" Rose said, pointing helpfully.
Though their intent could not have been much more obvious, Rhaegal did not seem remotely of a mind to be of any help whatever.
"You great green lout." Jon said crossly. "Oughtn't you be awing anyhow, eyeballing us from soaring height?" Rhaegal snorted. "Hardly civil of you. You're in the presence of a queen, aren't you?" Jon said. When Rhaegal did not so much as emerge to sneer down at him, Jon's brow furrowed. A rumble echoed up from deep within the green dragon's chest and when his teeth parted, flinty music came out. Dany's insides turned to ice and Val looked fit to faint. She had learned enough Old Tongue to serve and it was improving every day (Bytarys being instrumental in that regard) but there was no comprehending what sounded like stones grinding against each other. "I do." Jon answered in the same tongue, sounding quite serious. Rhaegal made the sound again, Dany straining to hear breaks in it and failing miserably before the green dragon turned and sauntered away.
"What did he say?" Dany said, hating how small she sounded, how much still the girl. It's only fitting, a voice sounding like Ser Bonifer told her. As far as you've come, to men and women like your father, Jon Connington and Jyana Reed, you're hardly out of smallclothes.
"'Do you not lead the Pack?'" Jon replied. "I told him I do. 'Then speak its proper tongue.'" He rolled his eyes. "Were I to wash with a rock instead of soap, he'd take issue with the rock's softness. Bent-horned old ram." Though Jon sounded exasperated, Dany heard the deep hidden delight in his words. He led them through the endless boughs and branches, Rose clinging close behind him to keep clear of the needles that tumbled from everywhere. Shaken loose in the battle, Dany thought. At last they found Rhaegal minding closely a massive fallen oak in the center of the godswood, far from the deep water and especially hard to reach by those unbeloved of the sky. Dany's heart skipped a beat when she heard a low, uncooperative chirp. Rhaegal let out a low exhale, sending hot air billowing around the great trunk and sending leaves and pine needles up to flutter about. A tiny orange head peeked up from behind the trunk, squealing indignantly. On spotting the visitors, the hatchling's squalling stopped immediately, silver eyes trained on them. Only when Rhaegal levelled his head to drink deep of Jon's scent did the hatchling look to the elder dragon. Daenerys was startled by the raptness of its observation. Only days old, and yet it understands. Val spoke true. When the iron hatchling's head poked out from a great split in the wood, its eyes on Dany, she held Ned close. How long before you're so able?
Though the iron seemed content to stare, the orange chirped expectantly at them.
"Oh, ought I have brought a mummer troupe for your viewing pleasure? Apologies, Your Twin-tailedness." Jon told it. The jest was not lost on the hatchling, Dany saw, which clambered atop the oak and puffed itself up importantly. "Oh, it's tribute you're wanting. Aye, right and natural and all that. I'm afraid I'm all out of strips of venison, another mouth beat you to it-"
"Where's the blue?" Val asked, looking at the trunk from end to end. Daenerys squinted, looking for a spot of blue in the moss and broken wood, but could find nothing.
"That's odd. Dragons are not bashful creatures." she wondered aloud. The orange chirped again.
"Cheeky little embers." Jon said, as Rose attempted to mimic the sound. At once the hatchling began to creep down forward down the trunk, burbling to itself. Val murmured nervously, Dalla sucking on her fist as the little dragon capered closer. The iron did not move, neck sticking out of the fallen trunk like a strange silver shoot.
"Well, too bad for you. Ned's not about to come crawling over for a closer look, not yet." she told it.
"Where's the other?" Dany heard Jon ask Rhaegal in the Old Tongue. Rhaegal didn't answer, content to watch the orange hatchling bobble toward Rose. Rather abruptly, perhaps on seeing its teeth or its resemblance to a snake, the girl dashed back behind Jon, peeking out with a wary grey eye. "This from the girl who wouldn't wear shoes!" he laughed, while the hatchling looked on perplexedly. The poor dear, all it sees are a bunch of bumbling giants babbling endlessly to each other.
"We ought give them names." Daenerys said.
"Aye, but first we need to know how many 'them' is. Where's that blue beauty?" Val asked again, slowly setting Dalla down when it seemed apparent the orange dragon wasn't much interested in either her or her mother. The little shrub of blonde hair toddled off toward the bushes and undergrowth at once, babbling.
"If we're going to name them, we probably ought work out if they're male or female, oughtn't we?" Jon said dubiously.
"That was something Targaryens and maesters of the past more or less guessed at. Some were of the mind they weren't so…fixed one way or the other, but…"
"Aye, Viserion's pretty well fixed the one way." Jon said bluntly.
"As is Drogon. Rhaegal…"
"Is no less male than Ghost. Just because he hasn't tumbled some wild monster doesn't mean he can't…or won't, should one of his liking come stomping into view." Or sailing upon the wind, Dany thought, thinking on Rhaegal's less earthbound nature.
Dalla teetered back over unsteadily, mumbling fluently in the tongue of babes. Dany smiled at her, then her stomach sank when she saw the reason for the girl's poor balance. An arm clung to the hem of her little dress, Val shrieking to the clouds and Jon cursing when they saw it. Dalla seemed untroubled, even unaware, turning guilelessly to spot the arm attempting to carry her train. Stooping, she picked it up, shaking it energetically.
"Geh!" she exclaimed, beaming as she held it up for them to see. A sudden curious trill from the trunk got her attention, the girl waddling over as she held the arm aloft while her parents chased her. Arriving at the fallen tree, she bent to peek into a barely-visible hollow beneath. "Uh?" came her babe-inquiry, before Val scooped her up, Jon delicately extricating her from the dead arm's grip.
"Must have missed this one in the undergrowth…" he said, grimacing, as Val checked Dalla over from head to her little feet. He smashed it against the trunk, sending bits of flesh and fingerbones all over before letting the arm fall.
"Hmph. I might have been able to use a few of those…" Dany said, playing cross as she held up her right hand.
"We can do better than crawling carrion for a queen." Jon replied, while Val looked stuck between tears and laughter. The trilling came again, the three of them looking to the hollow Dalla had found to see a pair of eyes gazing out, bright as a full moon.
"Thank the gods, imagine what a scene we'd have caused. 'Er, we might have lost one of the hatchlings. Everyone keep an eye out, thank you'." Val said, kissing Dalla on the cheek while the girl fussed.
"Coming out for a nibble, then?" Jon asked the hidden hatchling, footing the arm nearer to the mouth of the hollow. The trilling became a hiss, Rhaegal rumbling behind them. Jon frowned. "Well, then…" he muttered, sticking the arm in himself. To Daenerys' surprise, she heard the hatchling tear into it at once, gnawing most determinedly. The sound finally pulled the iron hatchling's attention off Daenerys (or rather, she suspected, off Ned hidden within her coat), its black eyes watching the arm get dragged beneath the trunk and out of sight.
"Hmm…" Daenerys mused. She reached for the iron dragon as she might have reached for Drogon, earning a warble of alarm. She tried to assuage it, to ease its nerves, but she got only the briefest glimpse of herself looming tall as a mountain before the hatchling pulled away, teeth bared at her in the waking world. "The iron is male," she said, "and not fond of others prying into his affairs." She turned back to find the orange dragon poking in the moss of the godswood's floor for bits of finger, charring them with weak silvery embers before gulping them down whole. A jaunt behind its eyes put Dany squarely in the presence of wholly a different mind, unafraid to leave the safety of the trunk behind. Or to squeal in irritation when Rose gets too far away, Dany saw. "So is the orange, if a bit of a peacock."
"And a bit of a rake, what are you doing over there?" Val asked him when he ambled after Rose, who whined in unease. The hatchling froze, its carefree manner gone in a moment. Slowly, deliberately, it waddled up to the girl, purring much like a cat. Even with neck outstretched it scarcely reached her waist, but it wasted no time clambering the furs she wore to coil around her shoulders, head brushing gently against her brow. Jon stepped toward her to free Rose, but Daenerys slipped her hand in his. "One day, it will be her on his shoulders." she said gently. Rose's sniffling quieted as the hatchling nuzzled at her temple, silver eyes no more than slits as he purred.
That left the blue, still teething in dragon-fashion on the bit of arm it had dragged beneath the trunk.
"What if they're all male?" Val asked, sounding dispirited.
"There's only the one way to find out…" Dany replied, easing herself onto the moss to sit with the trunk to her back. Sturdier than most chairs I've sat in. Jon took Ned from her, the iron snaking from the wood with a chorus of displeased chirps.
"Oh, what do you want now?" Jon asked him, the hatchling baring his teeth as he approached the White Wolf, no doubt standing tall as the clouds in his black eyes. "You'll have time aplenty with him in the years to come, but just now Ned's the queen's to mind and mine." Jon said, bringing Ned to his chest so the son could put his head to his father's shoulder. Dany could only look down into her lap, shake her head bemusedly, and turn to look down into the hollow. Only the hatchling's white eyes were visible in the dark hole, what with its fire being dark in color. As gently as she could, Daenerys presented herself in the hatchling's mind, rather than truly reaching for it. The white eyes went wide with a warble, their owner shrinking into the furthest corner of the hollow with a discomfited trill. Will you not come out, sweetling? The hatchling coiled into a little pile, still burbling to itself, sounding most unreceptive. The queen had to press a bit further to glean more, discovering to her surprise that the hatchling never emerged from its hiding place before nightfall and always returned to it before dawn. The sun drove it to ground with such regularity and totality that Daenerys nearly missed what she'd gone down to check, finding a mind, a spirit much in contrast to its fellows. Rather than try admonishing the hatchling into a pre-dusk emergence, Daenerys only straightened up, blinking the godswood back into view. I suppose were I in her scales, I'd want to stay out of sight, too.
"The blue is female." Jon raised an eyebrow while Val only exhaled.
"Oh, thank the gods." Her words surprised Daenerys.
"Why so?"
"The last thing we needed was one more young lad to bring up. Man, wolf, giant or dragon, they're just a brace of roosters who won't pipe down until you toss them a handful of corn."
"Well, you have the right of it there." Daenerys said, as Val helped her to her feet.
"Don't mind us." Jon said, already some distance away with the iron hatchling squalling indignantly whenever Jon turned away from him, blocking his view of Ned. "Just looking for some corn."
"Look on, cockerel. This is no affair of yours." Val said flatly, making Dany giggle.
"Where's Rose?" she asked, realizing there was a pointed absence of giggling, laughing, or sundry clattering and falling objects that traditionally followed the princess. Daenerys realized she'd gone nowhere in truth, only remained still and quiet and so became invisible to anyone looking for her usual self. Swaying gently to a tune she hummed, Rose made no noise of distress as the orange hatchling snaked up to lick away a forgotten tear.
"Oh, we'll have some job separating those two." Jon said, leading the iron hatchling back over, the poor thing panting visibly.
"Hmph. He might be an entire foot and a half long. Hardly stealing a princess out from under a grown dragon." Daenerys said.
"Or a queen." Jon supplied readily, reaching up to squeeze her rear.
"Oh, give me Ned before your fooling has him fussing." she said.
"Meantime it seems I've got you fussing." Still, Jon tucked Ned into her arms with a last kiss on the prince's brow, his little head shrinking into the warmth of his swaddling in the waning sunlight. "Time for a bit of dinner proper, hm?" he asked Rose, who seemed to have forgotten all the rest of the world. Hardly a fault. Dragons will do that.
When they made to leave the godswood Rose followed for once, but sullenly. Her dragon seemed in no great hurry to move off her shoulders, much less leave his sight, but a rumble from Rhaegal had him melting into the snow like a limp vine. Still, he shadowed Rose's heels right up to the edge of the trees, stopping at some threshold Daenerys could only guess at.
"Can she not bring him?" Daenerys finally asked.
"It's not me who takes issue with it." He nodded into the trees from whence the bronze eyes glowered. "To his mind, one pens up sheep and pigs. Not wolves and dragons."
"We're not penning anything up, it's a bloody meal." Daenerys replied crossly.
"Such rough language, and from the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms to boot-" she ignored him, turning back to where the hatchling watched from the treeline, silver gaze cemented on Rose.
"If we're going to name them, we ought do it where the rest of the realm can see."
"Is it any business of theirs?" Val asked, who seemed dubious on the matter of drawing any attention whatever to her daughter. And she's scarcely wrong in that.
"Perhaps not, but better we do it this way than have to answer the same question a thousand thousand times and more."
"Mm." Val replied in an assenting tone, putting a finger to her lips in thought. "How are we going to get the blue out of her hole, though?"
"That's easily enough done." Jon said bracingly. "Ply her with food, it works well enough with a certain other she-dragon I know." Dany filled her left hand with snow, squeezed, tossed. Though Jon dodged easily, perhaps expecting a bit of fire, Dany did not spare him.
"This from a silly pup." He slunk off into the pines to find Rhaegal, Val muttering darkly as she brushed a few flakes off Dany's shoulder.
"We ought find a collar for him, the least that could be expected is that he behave himself."
"And have him think himself important? Bah, it isn't worth the trouble."
"True enough. Come, let's put the iron's worries to rest for the moment. Watch your step, some of that wretched bone dragon still lies scattered about hidden by the snows."
It turned out the iron hatchling did not count upon the two women deciding to seek him out, his eyes widening as he coiled in on himself, peeking out from under a wing.
"Well, are you going to come along or aren't you?" Daenerys asked. His little head peered about, evidently seeking Rhaegal for a lead to follow. Drogon lazed four-fifths asleep where Dany had left him and Viserion was who knew where in the water. Finally he began to climb her coat, making little indignant noises all the while until he had her shoulder well gripped. Peering down without a second look at her, he touched the top of Ned's head with his snout, trilling and burbling in a most satisfied manner.
"I hope the blue's not expecting to travel on my shoulders." Val said doubtfully. "I'd need to sling a dead leg across my neck to get her to come on."
"Jon ought be back before long. A ranger awing…it's hardly fair to the poor reindeer."
"Hardly fair to leave you waiting on his wolfish pleasure, too." She tried to sound convivial, but Daenerys heard the worry beneath the lark.
"Is all well with you, Val?" That Dany would ask I the first place made the older girl start.
"Well as can be, what with…" she gestured vaguely.
"All that's happened. I mean with you, though." Daenerys clarified. Val managed to slip her hands about Dalla's waist, picked her up, held her close.
"I don't know anything about raising a princess. Much less one that will one day soar on dragon's wings. When I realized I had a babe coming, I couldn't have been happier…but Dalla's position is a precarious one. Others might question how that could possibly be true, a king's daughter and a dragonrider to be, but all eyes will be on her from now until the day she dies. Lads born a thousand miles south will know her name when she's still learning to use a knife. I thought all the kneelers wheedling Stannis for my hand at Castle Black was bad, but…" Daenerys smiled sadly.
"I understand. You are not wrong, either. That's why I want you to stay with us at least until Dalla is grown. The blue also. That way, when eyes look our way they'll be looking at us and not just her." Val sniffled, a weak smile forming on her face.
"That's big of you. I'd be small help minding hatchlings, though…"
"I know a person or two who's more fitted for that, anyway." Daenerys said. "You just worry about Dalla coming up as brave as you are."
By then the moon had risen, a half-circle of gleaming silver-white. Val huffed, hugged Dalla tightly and moved to the log.
"Well, we're about to be off. If you're looking to leave the walking to those made for it, best speak up before I leave you to waddle in my wake like a fledgling." she told the hole from whence twin white pinpricks gleamed.
"Moon!" Dalla giggled, pointing up while Val gently shushed her. When Dany giggled, coming over slowly to accommodate both Ned and the iron hatchling, Dalla instead pointed to her. "Moon!"
"Hush now, it's quiet we need." Quiet and venison, now where has that dastardly White Wolf got to? Aemon the First, my hand. Rhaegal swooping down soundlessly overhead had Dalla murmuring and burying her face in Val's shoulder, the iron hatchling shrinking likewise into the hood of Daenerys' coat. Oh, gods, don't think you'll be often hitching a ride back there, tearing my lovely hood up with your claws and teeth! When Jon emerged from the treeline he held a snow rabbit by its feet. "All that for a snow coney?" Val asked, pursing her lips and tutting.
"I was going to bring back something a little more filling, but a thought occurred to me." Jon replied, looking rather perturbed. When he lay the rabbit in front of the hole, to Dany's surprise the hatchling's midnight-blue head poked out almost at once. Warily she regarded the three of them until her fellows chirped down at her in greeting.
"Go on, then. No use waiting until its eyes burn blue and it hops away." Val told her.
"Bloo!" Dalla advised before hiding in the warmth of Val's front. The hatchling needed no further encouragement, tearing into the rabbit with such frenzy that Dany braced for a spatter of blood, only to find there was no such thing forthcoming. Still with a leg between her teeth the blue hatchling began to clamber toward Val, the bones scraping against her teeth until they crunched.
"I think I'll do the honors, you look ready to topple over." Jon said, taking both Dalla and the blue's attention, who seemed annoyed at this latest foolery of the giants all about her. "Come on up, you, I feel hungry enough to eat a reindeer myself." Jon said, bending so that the blue could snake up his arm (which she did, but only after another few mouthfuls of rabbit).
"The elder dragons always cooked their meat before eating it, even when they were no bigger than these out on the Red Waste." Daenerys said as they made to leave. Rose was leading, the better to make sure she did not lag behind.
"As you say. But I had rather a chilling notion while I was up looking for a meal proper for the younger clutch. She didn't roast the rabbit, aye, no more than she roasted the arm. It might be fire's not something she looks for as a seasoning in food." Jon said.
"I'm surprised the green deigned to carry you back after your Master Rangerness managed only to turn up a coney." Val remarked.
"I didn't turn up anything. I found it half-frozen on the moor, no doubt its burrow was buried in some blizzard or other." His implication made Dany's hair stand on end. It's not fire she wants to taste, but death.
The Great Hall was full as ever, making reaching the high table unnoticed a tricky proposition. A knight with a unicorn on his surcoat turned toward them by pure happenstance, saw what was in their company, and promptly let the mouthful of soup he'd just taken cascade down his chin.
"Are you dr-" his compatriot snapped before he looked up from his boots. Rose shrank into Dany's side, the orange hatchling nuzzling her as every head in the hall turned toward them. From Dany's shoulder the iron's neck extended to peer about, the silence eerie. Finally, he let out an almost derisive-sounding chirp before returning his attention to Ned.
"Don't think it's much impressed with us, lads." someone said.
"Can hardly fault the beast, we'd not impress a blind goat." another jested.
"Go on." Dany whispered down to Rose, who with a frightened squeak dashed behind Dany's chair at the high table. When she peeked out, the hatchling on her shoulder did the same a moment later, prompting a hall full of laughter. Bran had Meera installed beside him, their new boy asleep on her shoulder while Howland gummed on a strip of venison.
"My mother once told me that babes either eat like songbirds or crows." Val said.
"Half direwolf, half dragon, half lizard-lion, can you fault him for being fond of red meat?" Bran replied, tousling Howland's dark hair. Daenerys was pleased to see Bytarys nearby as well, though less so to see her head on the table and apparently fast asleep. That's little surprise, she's been rather busy these last days. When she finally managed to seat herself the iron hatchling scrabbled up to the back of her chair for a better view of the hall. For all the good it will do. Nothing to see from here to the far end but tired wounded people trying to reconnoiter.
"Shireen." Dany said softly, the fireling coming over from the makeshift hearth behind them at once.
"Your Grace?"
"Wake Bytarys, I would not have her sleep through this."
"At once, Your Grace." It was difficult sometimes to tell what sort of mood the girl was in, especially if freshly pulled away from whatever she'd been doing. One doesn't need a face to heat an egg or fire a forge. "Waking dragons from stone, indeed. Wake up." Daenerys heard the fireling mutter. A few bleary mutterings and a curse later and Bytarys was yawning, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her drowsiness vanished when she caught sight of the iron hatchling and her lip quivered when she saw the blue slither down from Jon's shoulders to poke her head in an empty drinking horn someone had left on the table. Scouting out a new hiding hole.
"I wonder how long they were in those eggs for." Dany said, in the peculiar bleed of tongue only she and Bytarys spoke. Fire and stone.
"Long enough, and more besides." the Skagosi woman replied, sitting back in her chair, looking singularly unlikely to fall asleep again.
The next hour or so was just eating, Dany getting a taste not only of venison but also rabbit and any greens that had not yet been devoured.
"Thankfully we didn't lose much provender when the Others attacked Winterfell." Bran told her as she ate. "Everything was kept in the tunnels far below."
"And what's left?" Jon asked as he spooned stew into Dalla's mouth.
"Enough to get on with, but we'll want to explore other options in good time." Bran replied.
"White Harbor, and the realm beyond." Jon rubbed his neck. "A lot to do."
"Thankfully more than a few people have voiced…not eagerness, but willingness to see about other places."
"White Harbor will do for starters. We need a port, both to take trade and to spread word across the Narrow Sea that we're still alive. From White Harbor we can reach King's Landing, the Arbor, Lannisport-"
"We could do the same from the western coast." Dany said. "Sea Dragon Point or thereabouts, for the sake of Bear Island if nothing else. Then Lannisport could be reached without having to sail all the way around Dorne." Which, my sweet king, may well be overrun. Jon grimaced.
"I'd say that puts us entirely too close to the Land of Always Winter, but the Others' ships are of a make where it honestly doesn't matter." Dany watched Bytarys tempt the iron hatchling with a bit of pork off the end of a stone chisel.
"The king bid me try and find any number of names I might recall from reading Targaryen histories, but it rather occurred to me old names won't do." Shireen told the queen quietly. Rose and her orange were noisily devouring a chicken thigh, making especially little effort to wait until one or the other wasn't trying to pull a mouthful free of the bone.
"All manners, this one. You're a courtier in the making and no mistake, my girl." Jon muttered, only half-looking as he rubbed his brow.
"Tarts!" came the answer. Tormund Giantsbane eased himself up to the table from the throng, grinning ear to ear beneath his beard as he slid an upturned helm across the table to Jon.
"Oh, now what have you done?" he asked, looking into it.
"Nothing more'n a snowdrop like your girl deserves, is all. Brought in a nice-sized boar an' only asked the kitchen lads to fix me up something nice. Fit for a princess, I hinted, and they more'n got the raven. Dany peeked over Jon's arm to behold a half-dozen small tarts resting in the helm, lined by cloth to keep them off the metal.
"Rose will need a bath and a half after she gets her hands on one." she finally said resignedly before turning to Jon. "Enjoy getting soaked."
"Har!" Tormund laughed, making several southerners sitting nearby jump. "Rose wants more'n one or two, she can bloody well help fill the larders herself. The rest are for Val's babe and your good self, Snow Queen. I daresay it's been a good long while since last you had a bit of sweetness to yourself." Dany felt her face go red as an autumn apple. Tormund tactfully took his attention off her, looking down behind the table where Rose hung half out of her chair, giggling as the orange hatchling licked broth off her cheek. "Handsome beast, and that iron too. When time comes they're big as the lads are now, they'll have cold giants thinking hard afore they come calling for a scrap."
"Not the blue?" Dany asked. Tormund snorted.
"Dalla's got too much of her mother in her to go sticking her head in every beehive comes her way. Gods willing, the blue will follow suit." As Dalla had fallen asleep, the hatchling had begun to slowly meander down the table, sniffing at Meera's wrist. No doubt wondering why Viserion's gone all Stark-looking. And female. Dany smiled at the lark. "If it's not above me to ask, have they names yet?" Tormund asked.
"Hairy-chined raider like you? You'd be bold to ask for porridge." Jon replied, earning another loud "Har!". "Don't look at me. My own name seems to change with every turn of the moon, a big help I'll be in naming a dragon." Daenerys let the talk fade into the background of clattering dishes, clanking mugs, creaking tables and the like. The orange hatchling seized its moment to pluck another thigh off the table, Rose squealing in delight. The iron had not left Dany's shoulder, content it seemed simply to occasionally chitter to itself or nuzzle Ned's head. The blue ambled back toward their end of the table chewing on what turned out to be a piece of Meera's lizard-lion hide sleeve, having gnawed it off. The way Bran was pampering her, Daenerys wondered whether Meera had even noticed. None of it was lost on Jon, the blue's choice of fare making him look at Dany grimly. As in the godswood, she thought. It's death she hungers for.
In the Red Waste I named the dragons for those the gods had taken from me. Well, by now the gods have taken more than I can name in these last days alone. It wouldn't do either to remind those in the years to come of those long dead whenever they chanced to look upon one of the hatchlings grown. Not named for the dead then. She spent a few moments mangling the names of dragon past in her head, not bothering to ask for a quill and parchment to noodle on. I can't hold one any longer, let alone write properly. Though I doubt the Dothraki will much look down on that, any more than the Free Folk or the giants. Daenerys noticed the iron hatchling's attention had moved to her for once, though that might have been Ned's withdrawing out of sight into the warmth between her leathers and her coat.
"You are Aemyxes." she told him, the hatchling burbling in what could have been anything from understanding to boredom. Dany waited for the blue hatchling to look up from her strip of hide, speaking when her white eyes found the queen. "You are Dhaegelle." she told her, the blue's prize splitting in twain between her white teeth. Though Rose had long begun to drowse in her chair, the orange hatching remained alert as ever, picking at her plate from her lap. Out of the corner of one of his silver eyes he noticed the queen watching him, turning toward her with a mouthful of venison. "You are Jaehaerion." Daenerys told him. He swallowed, chirping curiously as the names began to filter down from the table to those had been listening raptly, no doubt to spread down the other tables in turn. And out the doors of the Great Keep, and over the walls of Winterfell, and into history.