CHAPTER 1

ICE AND FIRE

Dragonstone
Daenerys' POV

Sitting on the massive throne of Dragonstone, she felt tiny. She had always imagined this would be where she truly belonged, the site of her birth among salt and smoke. But no; she had no memory of this place. The sense of accomplishment she had experienced when finally walking the black sands of the island was soon morphing into a looming uncertainty about her place in Westeros.

She was finally at the place she knew she was meant to be. She had shed tears, sweat, and blood to reach the seat of Dragonstone, and from there, a new strive began: to reach the Iron Throne, her true Endgame. But was it? Would the Westerosi accept her?

She had swept Slaver's Bay like a monsoon, conquering cities and submitting millennia-old houses of masters to her will. But she suffered their hate and retaliation firsthand. The great masters took every opportunity to demean her, humiliate her, and let her know she wasn't welcome there, and never would be. Ultimately, they did everything in their power to kill her and to end her dream. Only her resolve and the power of her children had kept her safe and her dream alive. The truth was, she was happy to leave Essos; it was difficult to bear such hate from so many.

The Westerosi lords had no reason to think or act differently. She intended to break the wheel, after all, the very thing that kept them in power and status. She had to be prepared to face the same or worse resistance.

She knew there would be war; there was no other way to go about it.

The decisive steps of Missandei brought her thoughts back to the present. She looked up as Missandei entered the ominous hall, knowing she had relevant news.

"My Queen, a boat approaches, bearing the sigil of House Stark."

Her Hand had thought it a most excellent idea to call upon this "King in the North," as besought by the red priestess of Asshai. As for her, Daenerys had enjoyed the whole "princess that was promised" talk, but she had many reservations. The Starks had been a decisive house in the rebellion that brought ruin to her kin. Making allies with yet another usurping "king" bearing the Stark banner went against all her instincts and beliefs.

"Summon Tyrion…" she trailed off in her request to Missandei and looked at Torgo Nudho. "Have my blood riders, not the Immaculate, escort them from the beach to the hall."

Blood riders would impress more upon the visitors than the polite and demure Immaculate. The Storm Born Queen was certain of that.

Unarmed and with hesitant steps, the supposed King in the North entered her hall, the heavy doors creaking ominously behind him. He was accompanied by an old man, who did little to hide his apprehension. Both men knew they were at her mercy.

She was surprised by his youth and short stature; she had expected someone grizzlier and more imposing to be the chosen ruler of the northern wilderness. As Missandei started announcing her numerous titles, she felt less and less apprehensive about the young man standing before her. She could tell he had seen war and battle; it was written all over his face. His eyes contained a sorrow different from any she had seen in warriors across her known world.

The old man hesitated to counter Missandei's presentation.

"This is Jon Snow… He's King in the North."

She did her best to appear pleasant, thanking them for their journey. Referring to Jon Snow as "My Lord" was calculated and deliberate, hoping to elicit a reaction. Surprisingly, it didn't come from Jon Snow as she had expected, but from his companion. This ensued a most entertaining dispute with Lord Davos Seaworth about proper titles, history, oaths, and the meaning of perpetuity. The dispute was no doubt won by her argument.

Jon Snow looked uncomfortable during their exchange, his eyes cast down, shuffling his feet. Until the moment she directed the inescapable question about his intent regarding bending the knee to her.

"No, I'm not," he said, almost as if it pained him to say the words.

Her response was tempered; she had been expecting the Stark to show his true colors anyway.

"You've traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"

"Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms…"

Daenerys was certainly prepared for this argument, but it didn't lessen the frustration it caused her.

"My father was an evil man."

She concentrated on the Stark's response to her bluntness. As calculated, he was taken aback and left speechless. Her next words were nothing but honest.

"On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family, and I ask you not to judge a daughter for the sins of her father."

She continued, praising the historical relationship between the Targaryens and the Starks, hoping she could restore it without the use of force. That was her true hope.

She could see he was hesitant; her words had made an impact on the young man. She began to understand that he wasn't just another ambitious lord trying to overreach.

Then he proclaimed that although he wouldn't hold her father's sins against her, he wasn't bound by his ancestors' vows.

To top it off, he claimed they needed each other's help.

She understood; she had to flex her strengths now.

"Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?"

She continued to list her assets, those she had fought hard for. How would she ever need these petty lords' help? She was simply trying to avoid needless deaths among their people.

Jon Snow acknowledged her strength, letting her know he understood how she chose not to conquer by force.

"Which means, at the very least, you are better than Cersei."

She didn't appreciate the comparison and pressed him on how she would need help from this Jon Snow.

When he referred to the fighting kings and queens as "children playing a game," her irritation rose beyond her previously composed courtesy.

At his mention of an "enemy to the north," she couldn't resist increasing her hostility.

"As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the north."

Jon Snow was unfazed.

"I am not your enemy. The dead are the enemy."

At that point, she knew this conversation was a waste of her precious time.

Still, she proceeded to educate the northern lord about her life, her journey, and the one thing she truly believed in: herself and her destiny.

Davos Seaworth tried, presenting a compelling case to compare Jon Snow's journey to her own. But how could he compare? How dare they try to make a bastard her equal?

They continued to convey the ominous news about the threat from the north, emphasizing that it didn't matter who sat on the Iron Throne, that all that mattered was to fight whatever enemy they had imagined beyond the Wall.

Her Hand, being the solution-seeking man he was, posed the solution:

"If it doesn't matter, then you might as well kneel."

Smart man; she had been right to keep him by her side.

Jon Snow started to lose his temper at the simplicity of Tyrion's proposal. He was running out of arguments not to compromise with her cause, so he raised his voice defiantly.

"And why would I do that?!"

Pleasantries and soft words were over.

He used the Mad King's card to attack her, as she had expected from the beginning. All his previous civility had been a ruse.

She would react as was expected from a queen, reminding him of her station and his transgression. Only she chose to present her case with temperance; she wouldn't be drawn into a heated quarrel with a man who was clearly beneath her.

"That's fair," she said calmly, her eyes devoid of emotion. "It is also fair to point out that I'm the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring yourself king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion."

Silence reigned in the hall until Varys the Spider stumbled in from the door. He paid no heed to the visitors or anyone else, going straight to the Queen's ear.

"Your Grace, please dismiss your guests. I have grave news."

She squeezed her hands together tightly as a way to calm herself.

No more time to waste with Jon Snow; a war loomed on the horizon, and she would not let her destiny slip away.