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Winds of Winter

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The clink of a sword was heard through the throne room of the Red Keep. King’s Landing has fallen for the first time in it’s short, gruesome history. Cersei Lannister was imprisoned and awaited trial. Her brother, Jaime Lannister was sitting on the floor. His world was shaken up in three simple days. Three days ago, his little brother came into his room, offering a plan. A Targaryen was here, ready to rain down fire and blood upon Cersei if she doesn’t give up her throne. And Cersei was not one to give up easily. So the Dragon Queen came with three dragons and circled the city, burning Euron Greyjoy’s fleet, and Yara and Theon Greyjoy taking the rest of it. The madman threw himself into the sea, only to swim out to the shore and get stabbed by several Dothraki. Qyburn was arrested and executed on the spot, along with some other people who supported Cersei. Olenna Tyrell and the Martell’s were on her side too, Prince Doran himself voicing support for Daenerys Targaryen and her cause. And then the bells rung, the city fell and the Dragon Gate opened. The Queen marched straight through the city, a sword on her hip and an army behind her back. The people looked terrified.

 

And then she did something that changed Jaime’s mind. She climbed off the dark, winged beast, some may call it Balerion come again, and came to her people. She started walking among them, men, women and children splitting to make room for her already tiny presence. Yet somehow, the spirit of the young woman was grander than her height, her beauty belonged to songs and the fear in her eyes will never be written in the history books. She walked among them, Mother to them all as she was once in Essos. The people were shocked. Gone was the iron rule of the Lioness. Instead of her, a girl clad in black with a red cape over her shoulder and some light armour walked among them, shaking hands with the commoners and lords alike.

 

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Some of you may know me as the Mad King’s Daughter, some of you may know me as nothing, but I can promise you, there will be no more of this. No more public executions, no more lack of accountability and no more crushing under the wheel of power. I have taken this city by right of conquest and I have a blood claim on the throne. But, the Iron Throne has shed enough blood these past centuries. No more.”
She turned her head and watched as Dothraki pulled out the Iron Throne on the streets, in the middle of Alysanne’s Square. Daenerys rose a hand.

 

“Just as the fires of Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar had melted down the swords of fallen houses together, so will the flames of Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion melt it down. No more. Dracarys.”

 

And with that, the three shadows melted down the last symbol of the old way. Jaime’s eyes opened wide. She was there to shake things up. He watched as Olenna and Yara beamed with pride at their ally. The girl broke the old system by just melting a piece of metal.

 

“I hope we can make some armour of it.” Laughed Dany, making the terrified people smile. She moved through the crowds on her feet, again shaking hands with her people, introducing herself. She hugged and kissed children, listened to them, told them that they will use the Tyrell storages of food and that she will rebuild the sept and the housing around it.

 

I intend to be your Queen, to protect and feed you. If you’ll have me.” She smiled, her small hands opening as if she wants to hug them. Truly, Mother to them all.

 

“Aye! Long live Queen Daenerys!” Shouted the crowd. The young girl bowed her head.

 

Jaime was shocked. Her turned to Tyrion, her Hand. “Where did you find her?”


“Across the Narrow sea, gathering Dothraki and Unsullied to aid her conquest. She is as fierce as Visenya, as political as Aegon and as gentle as Rhaenys. She does have a bit of a temper, but she is The Queen the people will choose. Never in my shit life I’ve seen a monarch come down like this and talk to people.”


“Does she have a flaw?”


“Her temper and inability to have children.
She can be ruthless from time to time and believes in justice above else. Otherwise, she will be more beloved that any ruler before her.”


“And it took her three days to take the Seven Kingdoms.”


“Four, brother. You, as the Duke of the Westerlands now, will swear fealty to her. You already killed her father, this is the least you can do. That’s one kingdom. Dorne is with her, as she just avenged Elia, the Reach, because they hate Cersei, she has just taken the Crownlands
and we may have legitimized a Baratheon bastard and proclaimed him Duke of the Stormlands. The Iron Islands are with her, too. Hmm, that’s five actually. The Vale, Riverlands and the hardest egg of them all, the North, remain. We’ll see about their loyalties once they see a pretty girl with three fire breathing, flying lizards.”

 

“How is she Mother of Dragons? Did she...”


“No, and that’s disgusting. She managed to hatch three petrified eggs who were meant to be decoration, Jaime. She created weapons of war out of decoration. Get me Bronn, we need a Captain of the City Watch. Olenna is her Master of Coin, Yara is Master of Ships, Euron is dead, Cersei is arrested and to be shipped of to the Free Cities under house arrest, and then we’ll storm the rest and crown her Queen and reap the fruit of our good work. Gods, how I missed that Tower.”

 

Said Tyrion, poking his head up to the Tower of the Hand.


“And how do you plan to get the North?”

 

“I plan to kick the Bolton’s out and find someone related to the Stark’s, but loyal to my Queen and then boom, we have a petulant little Duke who the North loves and is loyal to the Crown.”

 

“What if I told you that Sansa Stark and her bastard brother had taken back Winterfell and killed the Bolton’s and that the bastard is now King in the North?”

 

“Then I guess it’s time to arrange a marriage alliance. Is it possible to bribe a Stark?”

 

Aren’t you married to Sansa?”


“Not any more, it was
annulled. I wouldn’t marry her again, probably. She’d stab me with a fork in my sleep. You, on the other hand… Well, you pushed her brother out of the window. Maybe something can be arranged! Tyrion was already planning 7 moons ahead.

 

Are you mad?”

 

“We need to plan ahead! Do you think we came here with improvising? The Queen, her Master of War and I sat and planned this attack for moons. Every move was perfectly planned, every ally was brought in by Varys, every little thing was planned to detail. Except for her melting the Iron Throne. That was rather a pleasant surprise. And this little walkabout.”

 

Two little girls curtsied to the new monarch and a boy kissed her hand and she pretended to blush.

 

“She gave Euron’s corpse to the Ironborn. I actually feel sorry for him.” Shrugged Tyrion.

 

“So the Vale and Riverlands are under the North.” Continued Jaime. “Edmure Tully was successful in leading a rebellion and somehow House Frey was wiped out overnight. They joined the wolves and are sending strange letters to us.”

 

“What kind of strange letters? Winter is coming?”


“Oh, it came. They claim that White Walkers exist.”

 

Tyrion stopped in his tracks.

 

“Who wrote the letters?”


“The Bastard himself. Snow.”

 

Fuck.” He cussed. “Fuck. Jaime, do not mention this to Her Grace or Varys. Him especially. He is not very fond of magic.”


“He follows a woman with dragons.”


“Oh, now you’re thinking… Oh, she’s coming here. Stand straight!”

 

Jaime shut up and The Queen came over. He bowed his head and kissed her dainty, little hand. She was as beautiful as her mother was, perhaps even more.

 

“We need to move to the Keep. The lords want to swear fealty and I need to settle in as monarch and we need to discuss what will happen with the Bolton’s. You said they eradicated House Stark?”


“No, they did not. Ned Stark’s bastard has retaken the North with his sister. He is now King in the North and the Vale and Riverlands follow him.” Informed her Tyrion. As Varys was stuck on Dragonstone, recruiting people, they were cut of their Master of Whispers.

 

“He’ll bend the knee eventually.” She said. “I was not aware that Ned Stark had an illegitimate child. A boy?”


“Yes. Jon Snow. Named after Jon Arryn. Yes, the Jon Arryn who orchestrated your family’s downfall. He is a fine lad. A smart one. To be fair, he’s a little sombre, but otherwise he is Ned Stark’s blood. The same damned honour and dignity. And Northern stubbornness.”


“Ned Stark is the most honourable man that existed. And we killed him.” Said Jaime, looking down.

 

“I hope the Stark’s won’t hold a grudge, Ser Jaime. I will pardon you for your crimes, but if I want to make allies and eventually subjects of them and if they demand your head, I don’t know how this will come out.”

 

“They aren’t like that, my Queen.” Tyrion spoke.

 

I know Ned Stark rode for a reason. After all, my father killed his family. My brother abducted and raped his sister. The Stark’s will despise me, at best.” She spat, passing by the Lannister tapestries that were being taken down from the walls. She didn’t even look at them. The Throne room was short a throne, so she ordered a simple stone chair to be placed there, until they figure out what will be used for the throne. She sat down on it, face impassive. She didn’t look impressed at all.

 

Jaime was gobsmacked by her words and attitude. The dragons screeched above her and she opened the window, shouting some commands in Valyrian. Her Essosi allies were scattered across the palace, except for the translator and Master of War, who stood close by each other. Daenerys got up from the chair and moved to the Council room, where her council and the Martell representatives were seated already.

 

“As I have united the South, so shall I do with the North. We need to talk smallfolk issues first, then the North, and then we may all take a break.”

 

“Your Majesty, may I suggest you appoint a Septon to anoint you with seven oils and crown you? I am not a religious woman, but the people and other lords will need confirmation.” Spoke Olenna.

 

“One issue at the time, Lady Olenna. The pomp and ceremony can wait until I am actually Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Where is Lord Baratheon?” She asked. Her guard nodded and brought in Gendry, newly installed lord.

 

“As Orys and Aegon were brothers once, so shall we be.” She smiled. Jaime cocked his eyebrow at Robert Baratheon come again. He looked exactly like a young Robert before the wine and whoring. He leaned to Tyrion.

 

We found him a blacksmith shop and Dragonstone. Once he saw her, he got on his knees and begged her to spare his life. To be frank, she had no idea who he was. When he told her and after I convinced her not to put him in a canon, she legitimized him, gave him a name and now we’re educating him how to rule a castle. Unfortunately, you can take the boy out of peasantry, but you cannot take the peasantry out of the boy. And he is her closest relation by blood, so that saves his arse.” Explained the Imp.

 

Gendry gave her a sweet smile and sat down next to Olenna.

 

Yes. Lord Baratheon. How was Storm’s End?”


“The Storm Lords have all sword fealty to me and therefore, to you. They want vengeance for what happened to Robert and Barristan Selmy.”

 

She nodded. “Good to hear. You’re doing good.”


Jaime saw something almost motherly in her. The Dragon Queen turned her head to Yara Greyjoy.

 

“We need to settle in the city. This will take a while, but we need to work together. Also, I need my Master of Whispers. He needs to be here quickly. As for the North, I’ll write their King to come down.”


“He’ll never come here. Not after what we did to his father.” Said Jaime. “Get him on neutral ground.”

 

“Perhaps the Trident?” Suggested Tyrion. “Fly there, shake some fear into their bones.”

 

As always, clever, my Lord Hand. Lady Missandei, will you be kind to write in my name to the North?”

 

Then Ser Jorah Mormont barged into the room. “Your Grace, there is someone who wants to see you.”

 

She got up, the council following her.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“She claims to know who you are.”


“She?”

 

There in the throne room, stood a woman in deep red, her hair and eyes just the same. Daenerys recognised the follower of R’hllor, to some known as the Lord of Light. The woman took a deep bow.

 

“Dārȳs Daenerys. Dohaeriros istin, sindita liortā, qilonta ozbartā. Riglose Belmot Pryjatys rhaenan.”

 

Tyrion turned to Missandei. “What is she saying?”

 

“Queen Daenerys. I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honour to meet the Breaker of Chains.” Translated the young woman.

 

“To be fair, I thought she was asking her to break some chains.”

 

“Meli Voktyssy Mīrīnī lyks mazverdagon beldis. Kesīr drējī jiorilaks. Skoroso jemele brōzia?” Spoke the last Valyrian.

 

“Melisandrose brōziks. Bosys bantis amāzis, se morghor zijomy amāzis. Meri kīvio dārilaros ōz maghagon kostas.” Answered the woman.

 

“The Queen thanked her for the work of the Red Priests in the Bay. She asked for her name. Melisandre?”

 

Stannis’ Red Witch was alive and well.

 

“The long night is coming, and the dead come with it. Only the prince or princess who was promised can bring the dawn.” Finished Missandei.

 

“That sounds like a fucking prophecy, if you ask me.” Spat Jaime, unimpressed. He heard what happened to the young Baratheon girl by the hands of the Red Woman. He could execute her for her crimes, but who was he to judge? He threw a boy off a tower, not older than Tommen, and now both were gone, blown away by the people who were supposed to protect them. The Queen listened carefully to what the Priestess said.

 

“Summon Jon Snow. The King in the North. You need to meet him, to bring the Dawn.” She spoke, sure of her words. She took Dany’s hand and looked into her eyes.

 

“You need to meet.”

 

“I already wrote a letter to him so we can discuss the situation in the kingdom...”


“No, there is something more important that the kingdoms. Life and death.”

 

“Yes, life is very important.”


“Do you want to live, Daenerys Stormborn?”


“Yes.” She whispered, the words of Mirri Mazz Durr echoing in her ears.

 

“Then listen to what he has to say. Believe him. Trust him. And Dawn shall come.”


“And what is with the prince or princess?”

 

“The one who will bring the Dawn again. Born among salt and smoke, reborn to remake the world. He must come from the line of Aerys and Rhaella.”

 

“I am the last of that line. None are left.”

 

“Yes, you are right. None are left nor will be left until you meet Jon Snow.”

 

“And this man will help me?”

 

“And you will help him.”

 

 

Up in the North, Jon was waiting for Edd Tollett to come down with the wight they caught to send to Cersei Lannister. No one bloody believed them in the entire south. Sansa barely believed him, Littlefinger drained his blood and everyone else was quarrelling. He stared at the Northern crown on his table, a sad sight really, iron and bronze mocking him. Who would ever believe in a bastard King? He was a motherless, illegitimate creature, although he now had the power to legitimize himself, as Sansa pestered him to do so. She always thought she was right, always playing games and planning someone’s demise. Jon got up, finishing the letter, when the Maester and Sansa came in, faces pale and out of breath. The man put the letter on the table, hands shaking.

 

“To His Grace The King in The North, We summon you to a meeting at the Trident in three weeks, at the hour of the sun. If you don’t appear, We will take it as an act of war. The Iron Throne has been melted but Our claim on ALL kingdoms remains the same.

 

Daenerys Stormborn, First of Her Name, Queen of The Seven Kingdoms.”

 

And next to it, the Targaryen three-headed dragon. Jon recalled the tales of the conquerors, the tales of the Kings and Queens, Jaeherys and Alysanne, Daeron the Young Dragon, the tales of mighty beings flying on the skies and long, silver hair. But then again, the taste of ashes reappeared in his mouth, the memory of Rickard, Lyanna and Brandon Stark, victims of the Rebellion, appeared. Was she one of them?

 

“She has three dragons, Your Grace! Three dragons!” Shouted the Maester.

 

“The Iron Throne has been destroyed and Cersei has been arrested.” Said Sansa, sitting down, hands shaking.

 

“I’m terrified, Jon. What if she is like her father and looses her marbles and burns us all?”


“Three dragons mean we have a chance at defeating the Night King. I’ll meet her.”

 

“She will murder you the moment you step on the Trident!”

 

“Get my council and the Lords together.”

 

Once upon a time, Jon was a mere bastard, not even allowed in this hall. Now, he was the one presiding over it. Houses Glover, Cerwyn, Mormont, Manderly, Karstark, Royce and Tully were there, waiting to hear from their King. Jon took his seat, in the middle of the grand table, where his own father once sat at such events. The lords were louder than usual. Jon got up, his heavy cloak hitting against the back of the chair.

 

“My Lords! I have in my hand the letter of the new ruler in the South.”


“A new ruler? Who killed the Lannister scum?”

 

“Did the Kingslayer take the Iron Throne now?”

 

“There is no Iron Throne now. The new ruler has melted it. The letter has been written by Daenerys Targaryen...”

 

And then the shouting resumed. Jon rolled his eyes, wishing that he could warg into Ghost and bite Glover’s head off. The man was a thorn in his eye, bane of his existence, just as Alliser Thorne once was.

 

“A Dragon cannot be trusted, my King! Your father rode to take her father down, and she will rain fire and blood upon you! Fire and blood, I tell you!” Screamed Manderly.

 

“They are all vengeful, evil, inbred monsters!” Shouted Yohn Royce, reminding everyone of the Mad King. “He killed your uncle and grandfather and Rhaegar, beautiful and noble Rhaegar, raped and killed Lyanna Stark!”

 

Jon could almost smell the blue flowers around her tomb. Oh, how he missed picking those flowers with Arya and bringing them to Lyanna. She was a girl of sixteen when she perished, beautiful and wilful, headstrong and smart, like Arya. He used a chalice as a hammer and knocked on the table.

 

“She has three dragons, my Lords! She arrested Cersei Lannister and melted the Iron Throne!”

 

“She must be mad!”

 

“Daenerys Stormborn has invited me to meet on the Trident!”

 

But, before he was able to continue, Lyanna Mormont got up.

 

“It’s a trap, Your Grace! She’ll kill you!”

 

“If she tries to harm a hair on his head, I’ll kill her myself!” Proclaimed Lord Manderly, causing Sansa to cough awkwardly. To put it mildly, the meeting didn’t far well.

 

“I shall travel and meet her for the sake of our cause...”

 

“I agree with the Lords, Jon. She’ll kill you.” Sansa said.

 

He shouted her an icy glare, the blood in her veins stopped. Littlefinger licked his lips. Wherever was a seed of discord, he’d make sure it would thrive. After the grand affair, they moved to the library, with the Maester. Lords Baelish and Manderly joined them, as well as Edd Tollett and Tormund Giantsbane, messengers from beyond the Wall. Ser Davos was playing with the letter. Never in his life had he thought he’d see the three-headed thing again. The dragons were never truly gone. He closed his eyes, remembering the worst storm mankind has ever seen. The death of a Queen and the birth of a baby Princess was all that was left of it.

 

“I recall a storm, my King, Lords and Lady. Dragonstone was impossible to see, as strange as it sounds! And then I remember Robert’s rage. A girl had been born and spirited away to the other side to the world, with her brother. Some years ago, I’ve heard that Viserys Targaryen had passed, but his sister, Daenerys, was alive and taking cities. Aegon the Conqueror with teats, they said.”

 

“And what of that. Ser Davos? Half of the Targaryen’s were mad! What do they say, whenever a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin, to see where it lands, on madness or greatness?!” Yelled Sansa atop of her voice.

 

“Not half of them. Have you ever paid attention in history class? No, I presume. There was Maegor, but he was cruel mostly, Baelor the Blessed, Brightflame, Eleana and the Mad King. And that dynasty has counted over a hundred members.” Spat the Maester out.

 

Jon held his laughter. Edd shifted in his seat. He and Tormund brought in a wight, who was now bound and chained in a box.

 

“Jon… I mean my King, do you remember Maester Aemon? If she’s anything like him, I think we’re in luck. Sam used to read him news from Essos about her and he was so jolly when he heard that she freed slaves and whatnot… She sounds like quite a woman, to be fair.”

 

“If she tries to kill me, I imagine you all will avenge me.” Said Jon, making the entire table, except for Sansa, laugh. Tormund bit off the chicken leg, enjoying the food. Petyr Baelish decided to weave his web.

 

“What if you were to marry her? A bride with the largest army the world has ever seen and three dragons as a dowry must be quite a catch. I’ve heard any tales of her beauty. They call her the most beautiful woman in the world, Your Grace.”

 

“I don’t care for that in particularly, Lord Baelish. But, her armies are what we need. And the dragons.”

 

“You could be King of all Seven Kingdoms if you play this off well, Your Grace. All you need to do is bend the knee in a different way.”


“She can always refuse me. Perhaps, she might be married.”


“She is not. She was once the wife of a Great Khal, but he died.”

 

“So, an experienced one!” Yelled Tormund, slapping Jon on the knee. He whimpered.

 

“If you want to meet her, send an envoy! Brienne can go.” Repeated Sansa.

 

“Only a King can convince a Queen. I am no coward, I don’t want to hide behind the people I’m supposed to protect.”

 

Sansa leaned back on the chair, the navy leather of her dress was now too tight.

 

“I’ll go with you.”


“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Said Jon. Sometimes, Sansa thought, he had this amazing ability to open his mouth and their father came alive.

 

She was severely upset now, chocking back her tears. Jon got up, they followed him.

 

“I’ll travel in a week. Ser Davos, you’re going with me. I need to learn more about Daenerys Targaryen. If she is willing to help us, we need to know what her forces are and what kind of commander she is.”

 

Lord Manderly rose an eyebrow. “I imagine she has men that do that for her.”

 

“I don’t think she’s called “Aegon the Conqueror with teats” for paying men to do her bidding.” Said Jon. Tormund nodded, eyeing Brienne.

 


“A woman can command as well as a man can! My wife’s sister was a damn good commander, until she perished.”

 

“Let us retire for the night. We’ll show her the wight and then agree on a military alliance.” Proclaimed Jon, rolling the letter up.

 

The lords left and Jon turned to Sansa.

 

“If you again disrespect with me in front of everyone, we will never keep Winterfell.”

 

“I want to protect you.”


“I can protect myself. Thank you, but I have a shaky crown at best. They call me Oathbreaker for deserting the Watch.”


“You were brought back to life!”

 

“I don’t think they believe me.”

 

He left for his bedchamber. That night, Jon Snow dreamt of dragons.

Chapter Text

The fields of the Trident were bathed in sunlight. One might even say that the weather was far too kind for the upcoming winter, but the people gathered there wanted to feast on these last days of warmth and sunlight before winter comes. Pod followed Brienne to the spot where Jon Snow was standing, his giant of a direwolf right beside him. The white beast was sniffing around him, as if he wanted to ask something. A large bulk of the Northern forces were around Jon, tents with the banners of Houses Stark, Tully, Arryn, Royce, Manderly and Reed were placed around the camp. This was a simple display of power, a way of showing off that the North is mighty.

 

On the other side, banners of Houses Martell, Tyrell, Greyjoy and to everyone’s complete and utter surprise, Lannister, Baratheon and Targaryen. Jon saw from afar the legendary figure of the Imp, with a tall man standing next to him. The unmissable silhouette of Jaime Lannister, the now figurehead of turncoats, stood there, a red and gold armour on him, a sword on his hip. Brienne opened her mouth, as if to say something, but she closed it immediately. Her stance changed immediately once the Imp, Kingslayer and a beautiful woman of brown skin came up to them. She was dressed in simple blue and yellow leathers and a long, bright blue coat, a dragon pin on her chest.

 

“I welcome you here in the name of our Queen. I am Missandei of Naath, Her Grace’s Head Scribe. You stand in the presence of Lord Tyrion Lannister, Hand of The Queen and Ser Jaime Lannister, Duke of the Westerlands, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock and Shield of Lannisport.”

 

“It’s good to see you, Snow.”


“Likewise, Lannister.”

 

“How have you been?”


“I’ve seen better, to be fair.”

 

“It will be better, trust me.”

 

Davos ran to the meeting.

 

Excuse me for being late… Wait, where is The Queen?” He asked. And then they heard it. Three loud, air crushing roars filled the otherwise tranquil sky above the Trident. Jon first saw the bronze and green one, he landed like a falling star on the ground, releasing a mighty roar. The cream and gold one, the most beautiful one, landed a bit further, his roar almost sounding like a song. And then, he saw the winged shadow. Balerion come again. Jon walked back and clutched Davos’ shoulder.

 

I’d say you get used to them, but you never quite do.” Smiled Tyrion. The black, winged creature landed, his red scales glistening in the sun. He roared, announcing his mother.

 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.”

 

With the last title, her three powerful children roared.

 

“This is Jon Snow.” Proclaimed Davos. “He’s King in the North!”

 

Daenerys got off Drogon’s back and he flew away. She wore a white coat with silvery dragon scales embroidered over it, white pants and grey boots. There was a silver dragon chain across her chest, which held up a red cape on her back. The beautiful silver of her hair was bound in intricate braids, her face was delicate and sweet. The tales of her beauty could never describe the presence in front of him. It had been a while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

 

Daenerys observed the gruff Northerner. Instead she saw a boy close to her age, clad in black, in an armour with direwolfs on it and a heavy fur cloak. His face was comely, although marred by a few thin scars, the Northern crown shining on his head. She walked to him and he came closer to her.

 

A date with destiny.” Said Pod quietly. Brienne told him to be quiet.

 

“I hope the travel from here to Winterfell wasn’t too rough.”


“The road was clear, Your Grace.”

 

Dany inhaled deeply. The air tasted sweet.

 

“In your letter, you wrote me that there is an “Army of the Dead” and that I need to see something.”


“Yes, Your Grace. May we all take a seat?”

 

Soon, chairs were brought in for the banners. Everyone kept staring at the boy in yellow and black, with a warhammer strapped onto his back. Ed and Tormund carried a wooden crate and threw it on the ground. The crate started shaking and a fear crept into Daenerys’ soul, once she hasn’t felt since Khal Drogo has passed. And then, the Commander of the Night’s Watch creaked the box open. What came out made everyone shake in their boots. The wight crawled around the field, sneering and drooling all over the green grass. Daenerys clutched Missandei’s hand, the scribe clutching hers. Gendry’s eyes widened. The tales he listened to as a child, about the First Hero, the White Walkers, all of it. It was the truth. Daenerys got up, terrified. Jon Snow got up too, holding a torch. He cut it up, burning one part.

 

“It can be killed by fire, Valyrian steel or dragonglass.”

 

“How many?” Asked Daenerys.

 

“Hundred thousand. At least.” He turned to the crowds.

 

“Everyone who you love, loathe or know, will be a solider in the Night King’s army. We need to stand together and defeat the evil that wants to take the light out of this world.”

 

Afar from a hill, Melisandre and Varys watched the meeting.

 

“You need to leave.” Said the Spider.

 

“Oh, I intend to, soon. I am destined to die in this strange land. As you are.”


“Why are you even here?”

 

“I’ve brought Ice and Fire together.” She looked at the two young people in front of them. They were shaking hands now.

 

“I will aid the North. You have my word. We need to defeat the Dead.”


Jon bowed his head.

 

“But what comes after?” Asked Ser Davos. “I imagine you will want our King to bend the knee as Thorren did to Aegon.”

 

“They have been nearly 300 years of piece with a Targaryen on the throne and a Stark at Winterfell. I want to upkeep that.”

 

“Is that what you want? For me to bend the knee?” Asked Jon. She turned her face toward him. Her look was so much different than the one Ser Davos was giving him. It had a note of courage and bravery in it, but then again, an air of defiance was radiating from her eyes. Her look was, yes, coming from bellow, as she was quite small, but Jon felt as if it flew high above him and right through his body, pulling him into the green fields of the Trident. He felt a dark hole in his head, his feet chained to the earth bellow. He was warm, hot and boiling, and then he was ice cold.

 

He needed to take a breath.

 

So this girl had violet eyes, big, so that some wind blew from them, and it was going to grab him right away and lock him away. Her hair and eyebrows were silvery, so the amethyst stood out on her face, like single flowers growing on a snow-coated field. Jon swallowed, noticing that Davos was shooting him a strange look.

 

“I will allow you to mine all of the dragonglass on Dragonstone and forge weapons out of it. And perhaps, if there is a way, to send letters to the Citadel so that they can figure out the ways of making Valyrian steel.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “We will talk about bending knees once we have dealt with the Northern threat. But, I need to warn you, not everyone will want to support you as I did. We need to convince all of them.”

 

“Aren’t the representatives of great houses already here?”

 

“Yes. But there needs to be some other arrangements. If we ship all of the armies of Westeros to Winterfell, how will we house and feed them? And how will I leave King’s Landing unprotected? Many want my head on a spike back in Essos.”

 

“We’ll discuss arrangements.” Tyrion said.

 

“The Queen is right, the Western Lords will never believe me. They sneer at me already, it won’t be an easy thing to convince them.”
“We will spilt parts of the wight and show it to them. I will speak on everyone’s behalf and proclaim that whoever does not join the fight will be branded a traitor and oathbreaker.”

 

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

 

“Thank you for warning us in time.”

 

They all retrieved to their tents, Jon watching the small white figure disappear between the rainbow coloured curtains. He inhaled deeply, the scent of the fresh grass coating his nostrils.

 

In the evening, Jon, Davos, Pod, Brienne and little Ned Umber were gathered around a fire, Davos promising to cook his wife’s famous stew.

 

“We have onions, well, yellow ones, she uses the red ones, then we have boar instead of pork, but the peppers and potatoes are just the same!” The broth was boiling, the lovely scent of food enchanting everyone. Ghost was plopped down by Jon’s legs, snoring peacefully on his belly. Suddenly, he woke up, and ran to the forest. Concerned, Jon got up.

 

“He could have sensed something. Wait for me here.” He unsheathed his sword and ran into the woods. Davos shrugged and continued stirring the soup. A dragon flew past the sky. Little Ned giggled. He opened his fist, showing a handful of red stones to Brienne.

 

“Look, my Lady! Rubies!”

 

She wondered where the boy found them. “And where did you get those, Little Lord?”

 

“They were by the river!”


Brienne thought that maybe someone lost seven little rubies, with all of the wealthy men and women here. But then again, she thought of a silver-haired prince, his defeat and death and the eventual loss of power in his house. She remembered the tale of Robert’s warhammer swinging into the chest of a prince and rubies falling out of the plate… She told Ned to throw them away.

 

Jon ran into the woods, and there, he saw the three powerful sons of Queen Daenerys asleep. The largest one had his wing over his brother’s body, as if to shield him from the cold. And there, right in the middle of the meadow, he saw her, in her beautiful white clothes and red cloak, touching Ghost’s nuzzle. She gave him a little kiss and the direwolf licked her gloved hand.

 

“I am very sorry. My sons were hungry so I needed to see how they are. I presume he wanted some food too.”


“He already ate half a boar today, Your Grace.” He walked over to her, putting his sword back in place.

 

“What happened to Cersei Lannister?” Jon wondered, because the letters originally sent to the Lioness were answered by Daenerys or her advisors.


“She’s imprisoned in the Red Keep, in the Maidenvault.”

 

“Will you execute her?”

 

“I probably should. But then again, I am afraid to spill more blood. I’ve caused enough death as it is.” She hugged herself, as it was cold.

 

“Do you want to come over to our camp?” Jon blurted out, not understanding why he said it.

 

She nodded. “I need to meet my new allies.”

 

“Also, this lovely boy here is Ghost.”

 

“He is beautiful. As if he has been made of snow.”

 

“Have you seen snow?”


“A little, on Dragonstone. My sons aren’t too fond of it.”

 

“You know, when I was atop of the Wall, all I wished for was an army and a dragon or three.”

 

“And now you have it.”

 

“What are your sons’ names?”

 

“The smallest one, cream and gold, his name was Viserion, for my brother. He was weak and cruel, but he was still my brother. The green and bronze, he’s Rhaegal, for my other brother, the one who fell here, on the Trident. And Drogon, the black and red, he was named after my late husband, Khal Drogo.”

 

Jon nodded. “What happened to your husband?”

 

“A witch murdered him. But that is a tale for another time.” She started walking away and Jon followed her, closely, those violet eyes burning in his head. They came out of the forest, in the clear where Davos’ stew was brewing. A young man’s voice echoed through the woods.

 

High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones who had loved her the most...

 

“I’ve brought us a guest.” Announced Jon. Everyone got up, but Daenerys signalized them to sit down.


“Please, continue singing. Is that Jenny of Oldstones?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace. For the young witch, wife to...”


“The Prince of Dragonflies. But they both perished in the fires of Summerhall, where my brother was born.”

 

Pod nodded, opening his mouth again.

 

The ones who'd been gone for so very long

She couldn't remember their names

They spun her around on the damp old stones

Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave...

 

They sang together, nearly causing a tear to escape from Jon’s eyes. Pod decided to listen to the Dragon Queen finish the song.

 

High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones

Who had loved her the most…” Finished Dany, a single tear now slipping down Jon’s cheek. He thought of his father, Robb, Bran, Arya, little Rickon, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrick, even Lady Stark. At least he still had Sansa.

 

Davos started pouring everyone the stew. Dany thanked him and took a little, savouring the excellent flavour. Ghost sniffed her and she fished a piece of boar and gave it to him. He licked her hand and she smiled at him.

 

“Now, I have many questions. How did an exiled princess become The Queen?”


“The Iron Throne was mine by blood. Even the Maesters explained Robert’s claim through Rhaelle Targaryen, but I have the claim of the last dragons. But, I was never willing to be Queen because I was the daughter of some dead ruler, I wanted to be Queen to protect people from monsters. It took half a decade, but here I am.”

 

“Crowned and anointed.” Said Brienne.

 

“No, I want to have all seven kingdoms. The Dornish have given me Aegon’s crown and as you know, it has seven rubies, for each of the kingdoms.”

 

Jon sipped his broth.

 

“The North is independent.”

 

“Yes.” She said. “And Thorren Stark bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen, Stark.”

 

“I am not a Stark, I am a bastard.”

 

“Are you of their blood, do you think and talk like them?”

 

“Yes...”


“And that is all. You are a Stark and always will be one. No matter who your mother was.”

 

“My people will never accept a Southerner as a ruler. Not after what they’ve suffered.”

 

“They have suffered? From all I’ve heard, none of the Lords came to defend Winterfell when it was sacked by the Bolton’s! Have you heard what happened in Dorne? Elia Martell, raped and murdered, her babies too, Prince Oberyn murdered at the hands of the Mountain! Or in the Crownlands? The civil war between the Baratheon brothers nearly wiped out the Stormlands. And yet, they accepted me. The North is hostile for no reason. What I’ve heard from Tyrion, the North has been depending on the Reach for grain for decades now.”

 

“My brother and his mother were butchered at a wedding! My brother and sister have gone missing! My father lost his head in King’s Landing!”

 

“Because of Cersei and Tywin Lannister! And where are they now? Cersei imprisoned like a hostage and Tywin shot at in his bathroom!”

 

Brienne needed to hold her laughter. The thought of the great and mighty Lord Tywin Lannister, the mighty Regent and Hand to three Kings, shot in his bathroom, was ridiculous.

 

“And what of it! The people of the South are power hungry, always playing the game!”

 

“And the North wants independence because…?”

 

Davos bit his tongue. He’s been biting his tongue through this argument, and he had to hand it to the woman. She was beating him.

 

“Imagine if your family got murdered at a wedding!”

 

“I have no family to get murdered at a wedding, your Northern fool!”

 

“You cannot imagine what we went through, Princess.” He hissed.

 

“What you went through? I was raped at by bloody wedding night, I’ve been betrayed more times than I can count, I lost my son before I even got to hold him...”

 

“He took a knife in the heart for his people.” Said Davos, before being stopped by Jon.

 

“We both went through shit, but my people won’t accept a Southron ruler, never!”

 

Daenerys gave her bowl to Ghost, who licked the stew happily and left for the woods. Jon got up to follow her, but Davos stopped him.

 

“She’ll breathe fire in your face, son.”


“I will bite her!” He shouted. Brienne blushed and Pod dropped his spoon. “Not like that!” He said, holding his head.

 

Daenerys stormed her tent, where Missandei was attempting to teach Jaime and Tyrion basic Valyrian. Varys was trying not to laugh at them, as they were, to put it mildly, struggling. The flaps that represented the doors of the tent blew open, the rage of a much bigger person taking over. Jaime gulped. Her wrath reminded her of that one time Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower and he greased Rhaegar’s armour and he couldn’t get it on his body.

 

“That man will see his head on a spike if he speaks to me again this way!”


“Please don’t tell me “that man” is The King.” Cried Tyrion.

 

“Yes!”

 

“What happened?”

 

Daenerys retold them the entire conversation, while furiously taking off her clothes, so that she was left in her pants, boots and chemise. Jaime blushed a little. The only woman he ever saw nude was Cersei.

 

“You need to calm down!” Tyrion said.

 

“I am calm!” Dany shouted, putting her hand right into the flaming brazier. Jaime flinched, but her hand came out unburned, her lily white skin as healthy as it was. She threw herself onto the mattress, huffing and puffing at the man in the other camp.

 

“I think we should let Her Grace rest.” Tyrion announced, getting everyone out of her tent. Daenerys disappeared behind the curtains and started taking off her clothes.

 

“Missandei? Are you there?”

 

“Yes, my Queen. What is it?”

 

“My moonblood came.”

 

Missandei dropped a rag. The Queen’s blood never comes.

 

 

The gates of Winterfell opened widely, letting Brandon Stark and Meera Reed in. Sansa jumped up and hugged her little brother, tears pooling down her eyes. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell and now there were two.

Chapter Text

Sansa watched Bran drink the warm tea and enjoyed the simple sight of him. He aged, he looked so much like their father now. Meera Reed was with them, chewing a small piece of bread and savouring the warmth of the hearth and the presence of other people. Bran looked around.

 

“Is Jon well?”

 

“Yes, he left to meet Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

“Yes. We need her.”

 

“No, we don’t.” Said Sansa. “We need to stay independent.”

 

“Anyone who wields fire as a weapon is dangerous to the Night King.” Said Bran.

 

“What is he, even?” Asked Sansa.

 

“He is of the old magic, Sansa. The magic of the First Men, the magic that the Children of the Forest. He is here to bring justice. At least that is what he thinks.” Said Bran, looking through her.

 

“What?” She asked, clearly confused.

 

“Ice and Fire need to work together. Tell me, Sansa, do you mind the colours green, red and blue?”

 

She shot him a strange look. “What colours? Why?”

 

“You will see.”

 

“Bran, what happened to you beyond the Wall?”

 

“I became who I was supposed to be. We need to wait for him, he will be soon, it will take him a year, but he will be here.”

 

She looked over at Meera. “What happened?”

 

“He died in that cave.” She said, sadness dripping from her voice. She looked away and Sansa decided to drop it. She had other matters to attend to.

 

She went upstairs to the library. Still no letters from Jon. Frowning, she opened a book on Targaryen history and she found a page on Good Queen Alysanne. She went through the pages and then she stopped on a page on the Hour of the Wolf, the one time a Stark was Hand of the King. A Targaryen princess had been promised to the Stark family. Her family disappointed her. Had they wanted actual influence at court, they’d engage their daughter to the heir, so she can be Queen someday and represent their interests at court, but not like this. What was Cregan Stark thinking?

 

“My dear, what are you doing here all alone?”

 

“Lord Baelish.”

 

“As I said, call me Petyr.”

 

She closed the book.

 

“Maester George’s Targaryen history? He isn’t very accurate, but he has an excellent style.” He sat down next to Sansa, an eerie feeling creeping again in her soul. She stepped back.

 

“Why did Cregan Stark as for a Targaryen bride for his son, not for his daughter to marry the heir?”

 

He shrugged. “You can never be certain of anyone’s motives, my dear. But always assume the worst. Has your brother The King written to you?”

 

“No. They’ve been only a day there, I hardly imagine they have discussed anything serious.”

 

“I still think I should have gone down there. Varys and I could have negotiated something between the two factions.”

 

“The Spider is on the side of the Dragons too?”

 

“He has been plotting for her to come to Westeros for a while. He called her “the last hope for the realm”. What a poet!”

 

“My grandfather, uncle and father fought against the Mad King. My aunt was raped by their Crown Prince. The dragons shall never return.”

 

“But they have.”

 

“What if she decided to kill him?”

 

“I imagine you will call upon your banners and have her head.”

 

She sighed in frustration, trying to keep her mind sane.

 

“Your little brother is home. A trueborn son of Ned Stark.” He said, emphasizing the word “son”.

 

“I can’t believe he’s alive.”

 

“A threat to your claim. And to Jon’s too.”

 

“Why didn’t he legitimize himself?” Sansa shook her head again. “Remember what you told me about your dream?”


“About me and you on the Iron Throne?”


“The Throne is gone. Perhaps you need another dream.”


“Nothing has changed, my dear.” He pulled something out of his pocket. The small leather box contained a pair of pearl earrings.

 

“What is this?”

 

“A small gift. For you.”

 

“Thank you, I suppose. I’ll go to bed now.”

 

“Sleep well.”


“Good night.”

 

 

Jon Snow was standing on at the edge of the riverbank, kicking stones into the water. They first needed to send the armies north, and the first lords they’d speak to were the lords of the Westerlands. The council decided so and it was tasked upon Jaime Lannister, their Duke now, to rally them and for them to listen to the young monarchs. But the other thing that was eating his mind was a pair of pretty plump lips which somehow managed to offend him with every word they uttered. He watched the Imp jingle to him, carrying a few books.

 

“And why are you brooding again?”

 

“She is impossible.”

 

“Is she now?”

 

“I still think we should have gone to the Vale first.”


“The Vale that is in control of your step-cousin?”

 

“Politics have never been my expertise. I know how to fight.”

 

“And I don’t know how to lift a sword. See, together, we are a well rounded lord!”

 

“The Queen will feed me to her dragons.”


“Nonsense. That’s reserved for me if I messed up. Once, during our long voyage, I told her. “My Queen, if I ever disappoint you, please, I want an execution by dragons, I deserve it!” She laughed a little.”


“To be fair, dying by dragons is better than dying of frost.”

 

“See? Now listen, if I were your Hand, and thank the Gods I am not, for it is dreary in the North, and you are as half as pretty as our Queen, I would advise you to bend the knee and became the Warden.”

 

“And piss of the entire North?”

 

“Or perhaps even… Marry her.”


“Oh, then she’ll feed me to her dragons!” Jon scoffed, kicking a rock.

 

“I offered you the hand of the most beautiful woman in the world.”

 

“And I offer you to stop putting me near death. Seeing it once was quite enough.”


“So it is true. That explains how you could have left the Night’s Watch.”


“Yes. I am no oathbreaker, I can promise you that.”

 

“Which means you can take a wife.”

 

“And what in the seven hells am I supposed to do with her?”

 

“Do I need to describe it?”

 

“On the Wall, I never dared to dream to hold a son of my own blood in my arms or touch a woman. And now, you want me to marry a Queen?”

 

“Yes. That would make you her consort and her yours and you will rule together.”

 

“And what does she say?”


“She knows she’ll have to marry for duty.”

 

“So you haven’t told her.”

 

“Gods be good, one step at the time! Walk with me.”

 

Tyrion laid out the plan. He and Daenerys would wed, in the faith of the Old Gods, in the North too, and Jon would move with her to King’s Landing, so they can rule from there and there would be a warden left his place. Eventually, one of their children would inherit Winterfell and rule. What Tyrion left out, was the fact that he was uncertain if Daenerys would even agree or have children. Jon closed his eyes, imagining the days he spent as a bastard boy in Winterfell, dreaming about taking a girl and showing her Winterfell, maybe ruling a castle even and having a family. But that was a dream for trueborn sons, not him. And now, it was all at his grasp. The sound of swords clinking snapped him out of his trance. The Queen and her knight, Jorah Mormont, were fighting. He could easily tell she was a beginner, but she was a good one.

 

“You’re training her wrong.” Jon said. “You are showing her to fight as if she was your size, Ser Jorah.”


“And you can do better?” She dared. Jon took out Longclaw and asked to attack him. He blocked her attack successfully, pushing her back. Brienne of Tarth watched with great interest. The Queen was a young student, yes, but she was quick on her feet and her small frame could be used as an advantage. She had fight and vigour in her, but it was definitely not enough for the experience that Jon had. But, what else was expected of a descendant of Daemon Targaryen?

 

“Straighten your back a little! Good work. See, much easier, hey don’t cut me!”

 

He put Longclaw back and she stepped away. As fierce as Visenya, as political as Aegon, as gentle as Rhaenys.

 

Tyrion clapped. “A warrior like no other.”


“I’ll beat him eventually.” She proclaimed. “And find a Valyrian steel sword.”

 

“Well...” The voice of Edd Tollett finally spoke, who was watching this fight with Sandor Clegane. “There is something you need to hear.”

 

Ed told them about the time they were searching for a crate with daggers at castle black.

 

“And as you know, Bloodraven was once Lord Commander and he took Queen Visenya’s sword with him. I believe we might have found it.”


“Where is it?” Asked Jorah, shocked.

 

“In my luggage.”

 

He came back soon, carrying the sword, wrapped in linen. Dany unpacked it, revealing the rippling metal of Valyrian steel, a ruby pommel and intricate designs on the handle. That was Dark Sister, if she has ever seen it.

 

“When did you find this?”


“Right about the time we heard there was a change of office in the South. We never had time for it, but I suppose, it belonged to your bastard relative, and your ancestors, so I believe, it is yours by right.”

 

“Thank you.” She said. “If you wish, I can release you from your vows for this good deed.”

 

“No need, Your Grace. I swore an oath that I will defend the realms of men.”

 

She thanked him again, watching Visenya’s sword with great attention. Daenerys retrieved to her tent, huffing at the sword. This was wielded by the mighty Visenya, Queen of Seven Kingdoms, a warrior like no other. There was a knock on the wooden pillar that held up the tent and Yara and Theon Greyjoy came in. Theon took a seat behind his sister after bowing to The Queen and Yara came to Daenerys, asking to see the sword.

 

“Is it truly Visenya’s ancestral blade?”

 

“Yes.” Dany smiled, handing the blade to Yara, who looked at it with fire in her eyes.


“Visenya was my hero growing up.” She sat next to Dany.

 

“As she was mine. Tell me, Yara, have you met the King in the North before?”

 

“No, but Theon has.”

 

“Theon, can you please tell me what you know of him?”

 

“We-we weren’t close as children, Your Grace. He was the bastard and I teased him for it. He was quite lonely, you know? He did have Robb and Arya, and Bran and Rickon loved him too, but Sansa and Lady Stark… They hated him. And the Northern lords too. They hate bastards up in there.”

 

“So he must have proven himself if he was chosen as their leader.”

 

She poured them both a cup of wine. Theon drank his slowly. It had been ages since he tasted wine.

 

“We’ll talk more when you want.” She smiled at Theon, who gave her a sad look and nodded. The last Krakens walked out, Yara’s hand on Theon’s back. She sometimes wished these wars never happened, and families could still be together.

 

Plopping down on her bed, Dany fell asleep. She dreamt of a castle cowered in snow, blue roses growing around it, filling the air with their sweetness. She tried to open a door, but it was locked. Then another one opened and there was a bedroom, a man standing there with a boy, about a year old in his arm and a woman, with a slightly smaller babe.

 

“He is my son.” The man said.

 

“But he is not mine.” The woman responded, the little boy playing with an auburn lock of her hair. The winds of winter blew and Daenerys was swept to something that looked like a forest, but there was a Heart Tree in the middle of it, it’s ancient face looking over. There she saw a small boy with silver hair standing, a white wolf following him.

 

Dany woke up, hearing Tyrion’s voice calling her.

 

“I am very sorry to wake you, Your Grace. But we’re heading south in an hour.”

 

“Ah yes, someone needs to take the dragons.”

 

She walked to the part of the camp where her sons slept and kissed them individually. They yawned, and Dany climbed on Drogon’s back. The mighty beast roared, leading the largest caravan the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen. Jon watched the three winged beasts fly over his head, carrying their mother with them.

 

“You never get quite used to them, I suppose.” Said Tyrion.

 

“They’re terrifying.”

 

“Yes, but to her, they are her children.”

 

Jon turned around, seeing Davos ride next to young Lord Baratheon. It was as if they have known each other.

 

“And how in the world did you end up here?”


“Dumb luck and the right family blood.” Answered Gendry. Jon slowed down, so he was now next to the Onion Knight.

 

“Lord Baratheon, have we met?”

 

“It’s Gendry. I’m still not used to being a Lord. I am a bastard.”

 

“Just as I am.”

 

“Our fathers were best friends, Your Grace. I hope we can do the same.” He smiled back. “I’ve actually met the late Lord Stark. He came into the workshop where I was working and he did look a bit scared.”

 

“Because you’re the spitting image of Robert when he was young.” Said Davos. “It’s like seeing a ghost.”

 

“And I’ve met another Stark. Arya, your sister.”


“You’ve met my sister?” Jon said. “When?”

 

“After Lord Stark was.. died. We fled King’s Landing together.”

 

“Where did she leave?”

 

“I don’t know. She disguised as a boy, and rode off.”

 

“That does sound like a Arya.”


“She is fierce, that sister of yours. A true she-wolf.”

 

“She could slice a man in half.”

 

“But, always cheerful. And a little jester.”

 

“Yes. She used to pull pranks on Sansa when we were children.”

 

“Is she home?”

 

“We don’t know where she is.”

 

“Oh. I am willing to bet my right hand that she is still alive.”

 

Jaime Lannister rode past them, his head looking at the sky.

 

 

Arya rode down the Kingsroad. Only a few more miles and she’d be home. The she-wolf rode hard, but a sound of someone who had always been a piece of heart came into her ears. She got off the horse and led it to the forest. On a large meadow, stood Nymeria. She howled, her sound making Arya’s heart spin. She opened her arms and the giant puppy ran to her, licking her face.

 

“Nymeria! My Nymeria!” She kissed her snout, happy to be reunited with her. She found a piece of dried beef and gave a chunk to Nymeria. The two wolves paced back to the end of the forest. Arya looked at her.

 

“Do you want to come with me?”

 

She gave her a bark-like howl.


“Then follow me, my girl. We need to ride hard to reach Winterfell before night. And then we’ll bathe, well, I have to bathe, but I promise you a big piece of meat!”

 

They rode like the wind, but the sun as catching up to them. Night fell, and Arya Stark stood in front of the gates of Winterfell, after such a long time… Her heart beating, she took out the Stark banner she had made.

 

“Open the gates!” She commanded.

 

“And who says that?” Asked the man.

 

“Arya Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully.” She said proudly, Nymeria howling next to her. The howls rose Sansa up, she thought Jon came home, with Ghost in tow, but then she remembered, Ghost never made a sound. She got up and pulled on her cape and ran to the tower where the guards were.

 

“Arya?” She asked, looking down. It was her sister, she was sure, as Nymeria stood next to her. Arya looked older, that was certain. She resembled Aunt Lyanna’s statue now, her small face reminding her of Jon and Father.

 

“Yes, Sansa, open the damned gates!”

 

The gates creaked open, letting Arya Stark in. The people who remembered her rose from their seats to see the young woman arrive. She got of her horse and started at Sansa, clad in her boots and nightgown and a thick, woollen cape. She opened her arms and raced to her. They hugged, tears streaming down their tired faces.

 

“We should have never left Winterfell.” Arya said, tears coming down.

 

“How are you still alive?”


“I’m a tough little shit, no one can kill me.”

 

Sansa smiled.

 

“Where is Jon?”


“Signing a treaty with the Dragon Queen. But Bran is home.” She smiled.

 

“Where is he? Wait, the Dragon Queen? Daenerys Targaryen?”


“Yes.”

 

“She is very famous in Essos.”


“And how do you know that?”


“I lived in Essos for a while.”

 

Sansa was shocked, but she let Arya walk to see Bran. She hugged him tightly and he smiled.

 

“You look so much like Aunt Lyanna.”


“And how would you know that?” She laughed.

 

“I know many things.”

 

They shared a meal, Sansa throwing her disapproving looks as she threw pieces of food to Nymeria. The she-wolf sat by the table peacefully, listening to the crackling of the fire.

 

“How did she come with you?” Asked Sansa.

 

“I asked her.”


“The blood of the First Men is bound by magic to creatures of the North. You could warg her someday if you try.” Bran said. “I used to warg Summer before he...”

 

Arya swallowed. “Magic truly never left, didn’t it? The tales of Old Nan eventually come true, don’t they?” She thought of the threat beyond the Wall which Sansa explained to her immediately when she arrived.

 

“It was always there, we were just too concerned with our games of power and corruption to notice. A girl across the Narrow sea brought dragons back into this world, the Night King rose again, the Warlocks of the House of Undying have powers again, Red Priests wield more magic than ever… It had always been there for us to touch it, but we never knew how to use it.” Bran explained.

 

“Are all people with First Men blood wargs?” Asked Arya.

 

“No, not all. We are, for example. Some of us were born slightly powerful.”


“Is Jon one?” Asked Sansa.

 

“He is, he has more First Men blood than we do.”

 

Bran looked into the fire. “The prophecy is clear, we need Ice and Fire to unite.”

 

“What prophecy?” Asked Arya.

 

“The Prince That Was Promised.” Bran spoke. “He will be here soon.”

 

Arya tried to understand this cryptic message. “And how do I warg into Nymeria?”


“Try in your sleep first. Then awake.” Said Bran. “You’ll understand.”

 

She nodded. After the servants cleared the tables, Arya went for a long and warm bath, remembering the tales of Old Nan. How does Jon have more First Men blood than they do?

 

 

The caravan arrived at Lannisport, where Jaime had summoned all of his banners. Lords Banefort, Brax, Broom, Crakehall, Farman, Lefford, Lydden, Marbrand, Payne, Prester, Reyne, Serrett, Swyft, Tarbeck, and Westerling were gathered in the main square of Lannisport, fittingly named Lion’s Square. Jaime stepped first, as their liege, he was the one to address his banners.

 

“My Lords, I come here to present us our Queen, Daenerys Stormborn. Her Grace and The King in the North have something important to tell you. This is beyond politics, the Iron Throne, family names. This is a matter of life and death.”

 

Jon stepped out, Daenerys right beside him. She spoke first.

 

“My Lords, when I came upon the shores of the land I was born in, I swore to protect our lands and people and secure a better future, to leave this world a better place then I found it. But, my Lords, I was not aware of the threat looming beyond the Wall. The tales you heard as children are true. The Night King and the Army of the Dead are real. They are as real as you and I, they are as real as your sons and daughters, fathers, brothers, sisters, mothers, cousins… And we need to fight to defeat them.”

 

The lords started shouting in disbelief.

 

Now Jon spoke. “Her Grace is telling the truth. I saw them with my own eyes. If we want to live, we need to defeat them. United, as one army.”

 

“And who shall command this army, is it you?” Asked Lord Swyft.

 

“There are far more important things to worry about than titles, commanders and power. Once we gather an army, we shall vote our own commanders in.” Jon spoke. They unveiled the remains of the wight, explaining what he is.

 

“Imagine an army that never tires, never stops, until the very end.”

 

The dragons roared above, reminding everyone that magic came back with a taste of vengeance.

 

The caravan resided in Casterly Rock, Daenerys was dinning with the Lannister brothers. Jaime talked about Queen Rhaella, which warmed Dany’s heart.

 

“You look so much like her, it’s uncanny.” He said. “Father must be rolling in his grave for this.”

 

“Let him roll, tumble and rot. You’re the Lord of Casterly Rock now, Duke and Warden, but, we always must look ahead. What is the future of this house, Jaime?”

 

“We defeat those ice fuckers, excuse my language, Your Grace, I return here and do the best I can.”

 

“Jaime, I speak from experience. You’re shit at ruling.”

 

Jaime dropped his fork.

 

"Thank you."

 

“And what is the future of this House? Tommen and Myrcella are gone. Uncle Kevan too, and his children with him. I cannot be here as I will be needed in King’s Landing.”

 

“And what do you suggest? To hand over Casterly Rock to Aunt Genna?”


“No, you need a wife. A smart one, one who can be a politician and a pretty lady at the same time.”

 

“I guess you should put on a wig, Tyrion.” Answered Jaime, making Dany chuckle.

 

“You need an heir and you need support. A wife can give you both.”

 

“I think Lord Swyft has eligible daughters.”


“Can they run a castle like this one?”

 

“I doubt it.”

 

Jaime thought of Brienne. She’d never do something like this. Be a lady, command servants and lords, go to court and raise children…Perhaps, she could. Jaime put down his chalice.

 

“And will you marry?”


“For pleasure only.” Tyrion said. “A ring on my finger has almost no political weight now.”

 

“And you, Your Grace?”


“I suppose I must, eventually.” A coat of sadness was heard on her voice. “I hope I don’t end up like my mother.”

 

“With the two of us here? Never.” Jaime smiled. She reminded him of Myrcella, had Myrcella hatched three dragons and been given a sword. She was gentle but stern, young but wise. Perhaps, the best chance they had to save this shit world.

 

“Jaime here will carve every man who dares to lay a finger on you. And I’ll beat him with a book.”

 

Dany smiled, Viserys and his cruel words still haunting her. “Thank you.”

 

She finished her meal. The pork was divine, along with delicious potatoes and a gorgeous salad out of lettuce and walnuts. The fruit cake was even better.

 

“Do you like the food?” Asked Jaime.

 

“It’s excellent. I haven’t eaten this well since Essos.”


“Yes, the food there is divine.” Tyrion spoke. “And the wine!”

 

“Can you draw me a list of women you had in mind for me to marry?”

 

“I only had one.”


“Who?”


“Sansa Stark.”

 

“Are you mad? Do you want the ghost of Catelyn Stark to come and murder me in my sleep?”

 

“No, listen. This is how Houses Stark and Lannister make peace after executing Ned, Robb and Catelyn Stark. She is sister to The King in the North, so you will be marrying a Princess. This is a good way to introduce the North back into the Seven Kingdoms.”


“She is a bit too young for me.”

 

“We have to hear what she thinks. And her brother.”


“The broody one? He’ll kill me too.”

 

“Ah yes… Brandon Stark might take a certain dislike to you too, but he is gone.”

 

“I agree with Tyrion. You make a good match politically.”

 

“Consider it.”

Chapter Text

The old castle of Riverrun appeared between the hills. Edmure Tully was the one now to lead the caravan, where his banners were summoned. Daenerys only recognized the Blackwood banner, as Queen Betha reappearing in her mind. Edmure Tully tried to speak to the Lords, but his Uncle Blackfish intercepted and explained everything to them. The Lord started arguing, shouting even. The allegedly civilized crowd of men started yelling and shouting as if they were in a tavern.

 

Jon turned to Daenerys.

 

“Should one of us speak up?”

 

“I think Ser Blackfish has this under control.” She responded. The next plan of action went like this. Since the armies of the Stormlands were sparse after the civil war between Renly and Stannis, they would not venture there. The Dornish already agreed to help, as did the Vale, so the only issue that remained was the dragonglass. Daenerys suggested a Northern envoy goes with her as they aren’t enough people on Dragonstone to mine it. Lord Varys will be sent to King’s Landing in order to act as regent. Daenerys considered sending Tyrion too, but her hand suggested to stay with her with the amount of important people that will be there. The Reach was barren of men too, but Olenna Tyrell would return to Highgarden and send food to feed these armies for a while.

 

A fter the lords started travelling to Winterfell, Jon wrote a letter to Sansa, explaining where he was about to go and about the food and people that are about to arrive. Daenerys watched the Maester send the raven with him. She turned to Jon.

 

“Would you like to go on a ride with me?”

 

“I don’t know how to ride a dragon.”

 

“I meant horses.”

 

Jon’s black and Dany’s silver were saddled at the fields of Riverrun, both held by a Dothraki bloodrider. She thanked him and they went to ride in the fields. Tyrion and Davos watched from afar, clearly surprised. The two monarchs were usually at each others throats, disagreeing about nearly everything.

 

Do you think we would be able to put the Seven Kingdoms in one marriage bed?” Asked Tyrion.

 

“Yes, if they don’t put it there before us.”

 

T hey rode deep into the valley. Jon enjoyed racing her, she was as quick as the wind itself. She rode like her Dothraki, hips grasping her horse with all the might and strength it took to ride like a Khal. Jon rode like a Northman, not too quick, but strong enough to make his presence known. The Queen jumped over a puddle, her silver landing on the dry ground. She stopped once she saw a deer eating grass in front of the wooded area. She put a finger on her lips and showed Jon the heart warming scenery. The deer and its baby were enjoying the fresh grass, the little thing trying to walk on its wobbly limbs. Dany smiled, the interaction between parent and child warmed her heart. Jon wanted to suggest they go back, but then it started raining. They ran to a large heart tree, which stood there long before they were born. Dany tied the horses to a low branch and watched the pouring rain fall. Her thin riding coat had gotten wet and she was shivering. Jon Snow watched her.

 

“Are you cold?”

 

“No.” She lied.

 

“Then why are you shivering?”

 

She turned around. “Dragons do not get cold.”

 

“Come.” He offered, opening his cloak. She looked at him confused and came over turning her back to him. The Dragon Queen leaned on his body and he covered her with his cloak, wrapping an arm under her chin. She was quite warm, to his surprise.

 

“You should wear thicker furs in Winterfell, or else, you fight see your fingers fall off from the cold.”

 

She was getting warm underneath his cloak, it smelled like pinewood and fur. His body was warm too, his voice soothing and velvety. She could almost fall asleep there, while he was holding her. She would lie to herself if she said he was an unattractive man. He was quite comely, his face hid everything within, but there was a sense of familiarity between them. Their bodies touched, Dany’s goosebumps were for something completely different now. It had been a while since Jon Snow held a woman in his arms. She was small and delicate, but there was a certain firmness to her, something only possible with people who grew up on the run from death. The rain got stronger.

 

“Why did you refuse to get legitimised?”

 

“I have never been in the need of that.”

 

“You can legitimise yourself now.”


“That would be… a little dumb. You could.”

 

She shook her head.

 

“That would imply you bent the knee. It wouldn’t make you look good in the eyes of the North.”

 

Aye.”

 

She turned around, now facing him. Their faces were inches apart.

 

“Are you warm?” He asked.

 

“Yes.” She whispered.

 

They gazed into each others eyes deeply. Jon decided, she was as dangerous as they get.

 

“The rain stopped.” She said.

 

“What?” He snapped out of his trance.

 

“I said, the rain has stopped. We need to go back to the castle.”

 

They rode back. That night, when Jon took of his cloak, he was surprised it smelled like her. He sat down behind the desk in his chambers, Davos watching him carefully.

 

What is it?” Jon asked.

 

“What happened with you and Her Grace?”

 

Nothing. We rode.”

 

“And?”


“And that is all that happened, Ser Davos.”

 

The old man laughed. “Was something supposed to happen, Your Grace?”

 

Jon rolled his eyes and went to take a bath. Davos stared at the charcoal coloured cloak on the table. There was a thin, long, white hair on it.

 

 

Sansa was reading Jon’s letter, pleased with the outcome of the treaty. No knees were bent, no one died, the North was still independent and her brother King. All was well. Her handmaiden, a sweet thing named Lily, was braiding her hair as Sansa had her breakfast. She chewed on the sweet pastry and eyed Lily in the mirror. She had a sweet, heart shaped face, long, chocolate coloured hair which was neatly braided, apple green eyes and dimples when she smiled. She was a bit smaller than Sansa, who was quite tall for a woman. Lily finished putting the last pin into place.

 

“Are you pleased, Princess Sansa?” She asked, brushing her fingers through the hair that hung down Sansa’s back.

 

“Yes, thank you. Draw me a bath tonight and one gown of mine needs some stitching.”

 

She nodded, packing the brushes up.

 

“Where did you learn to braid like this?”


“I have four sisters, so I had a lot of hair to practise on.”

 

Sansa nodded. “I wish I knew how to do this.”

 

“I can teach you, but that would mean I’d be out of work.” She smirked. Sansa felt as if a jolt struck her. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a ghost of a beautiful young Queen who burned when Cersei Lannister blew up the Sept. Lily reminded her of Margaery so much that it hurt, now. Sansa gulped.

 

“Where is your family from, Lily?”

 

“My father came from the Reach and my mother is a Northerner.”

 

“How did a man from the Reach come to the North?”

 

“He was a bastard, my Princess. I mean, his father and grandfather had the last name Flowers, which is a bastard last name. And he worked as a blacksmith in the Reach but there wasn’t much business down there so he wanted to go and join the Night’s Watch. On his way there, he met my mother and stayed.”

 

“That is not a story you hear every day. So your last name is Flowers too?”

 

“Yes. My sisters are named Peony, Rose, Daisy and Violet.”


Sansa giggled a little. “A bunch of flowers!” She clapped in amusement.

 

“How did your siblings get their names?” She asked, opening Sansa’s closet and finding the gown with a hole.

 

“Robb for Robert Baratheon, of course, I was named for an ancestor, Arya for my father’s grandmother, Arya Flint. She was just as wild. Bran for Uncle Brandon and all the Brandon Starks that came before him and Rickon was for grandfather Rickard. And Jon, The King, for Lord Jon Arryn.”


“Well, being named after flowers is a bit more unique, I presume.”

 

Sansa nodded.


“Come, Lily, I’ll help you stitch the gown.”

 

There was a knock on the door. Petyr Baelish entered before getting permission and Sansa rolled her eyes. He took a seat on the bed.

 

“Your sister is now home?”

 

“Mhm. Came back last night.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me, dear?”

 

“She needed rest and you were sleeping. Lily, you may go. We’ll talk later.”

 

She curtsied and left the room.

 

“Come to the library with me.”


“What is wrong with this room?”


“It’s highly inappropriate.”

 

Once they settled in the library, Sansa briefed him about Jon’s successful treaty and the forces that are about to arrive North.

 

“They’ll settle in the local villages and tents, as there will be no place in Winterfell.” She finished.

 

“And how will you feed them?”


“The Reach is sending us food.”

 

“Who is charge of the Reach now?”

 

“Olenna Tyrell.” Her name left a bitter taste in Sansa’s mouth. “As regent for Tytos Tyrell.”

 

“I see. And she will send food by the orders of her Queen?”


“Yes.” Sansa spoke. Littlefinger leaned closer to her.

 

“You didn’t like my gift?”


“I did, but I don’t think this is an occasion for pearl earrings.”

 

“Everything can be an occasion for everything you want if you take it, my dear. You are Queen in everything but in name.”


“I am my brother’s regent in his absence. Lord Baelish.”

 

“Call me Petyr.” He said, leaning toward her. She heard the door being opened and jerked back. Arya and the Maester walked in, carrying letters of the bannermen who confirmed they were coming to fight for the North.

 

“And here is a letter from Jon!” Said Arya with a big grin. “He says they’re travelling to Dragonstone tomorrow to mine dragonglass and forge weapons out of it.”

 

“Good. We’ll survive this war.” Petyr Baelish spoke. Arya threw him a quick side eye.

 

“And Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons are coming too. We’ll see dragons, Sansa, bloody dragons!”


“You said you heard you heard tales of her in Essos.”

 

“Yes! She is known as the Breaker of Chains there. And Mhysa to some. I think that means mother in some foreign tongue. She conquered Slaver’s Bay in a moon or so before her dragons were grown. Imagine what she can do with grown ones. I heard she ruled in Meereen and left a council there to rule in her name.”

 

“And?”


“They call her Aegon the Conqueror with teats. She brought King’s Landing to its heel in a few days, didn’t she? The first time that city ever fell. I was on my way there to kill Cersei Lannister but I guess she is imprisoned now.”

 

“How would you kill a woman followed by the Mountain?” Asked Baelish.

 

“I have my ways.” Spoke Arya. She sat down. “I was told I’d close lots of eyes. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Blue eyes.”

 

Baelish blinked, his eyes looked like piercing ice daggers towards Arya. He excused himself and went to do some dirty deed. Arya turned to Sansa.

 

“We need him out of our hair.”

 

“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”


“He’s an evil cunt.”

 

“Arya! Language. And how in the world would you have us get rid off bloody Littlefinger?”

 

“I can poison him.” Offered the Maester. Arya turned to him, surprised.

 

“Didn’t know you had it in you.”

 

“He is an evil man.”

 

“No, we need to outwit him. Sansa, what is his only weakness?”

 

She thought, long and hard. “Me.”


“Good. Bat your eyes at him, be pretty and shit. And when he doesn’t suspect it, I’ll strike him.” She spoke firmly.

 

“And just how will you do that?”

 

“Charm him. Leave the rest to me and Bran.”

 

Sansa opened her hand. “If you save us from him, I will be forever in your debt. And I promise you, I pay my debts.”

 

“Nonsense. We’re sisters.”

 

“Just don’t expect me to bed him. I won’t go that far.”

 

Sansa walked after breakfast to his solar. She put on her best sad face and came to him, closing the door behind her.

 

“What is it, my love?”

 

“Arya is here and thinks she can command this place instead of me. I fought for Winterfell, and she just waltzes in and expects everything to be according to her!”

 

Baelish got up. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“To frame her. So I can put her on trial so that Jon has to execute her. He will never forgive me if something happens to her.”

 

“Good.” He put his arms on her waist and Sansa tried her best not to flinch. She put her own arms over his shoulders.

 

“I’m afraid of her. She learned to kill in Essos.”


“Even killers can be killed. Look at Joffrey.”

 

She closed her eyes and he caressed her cheek.

 

“I’ll protect you from her.”

 

 

For the first time in his life, Jon saw the shores of Dragonstone. It reminded him of the tales of Old Valyria, especially with the three dragons flying around. He watched them, thinking of their mother. It took them nearly three weeks to come there, he missed her very much. Jon snapped out of it. She wasn’t his to miss. They were greeted again by Tyrion Lannister and Lady Missandei, who showed them their rooms and told them there would be a feast tonight.

 

“For what?”


“Her Grace’s nameday. She is turning three and twenty today.” Tyrion said. Jon looked down. He turned three and twenty a few moons before. Davos settled in a solar close to Jon’s, but otherwise he was quite alone in his room, save for Ghost. The direwolf missed his homeland, but Jon was quite surprised to find him playing with dragons in the late afternoon. He was getting a tour of Dragonstone by Tyrion Lannister as he saw Daenerys seated in the middle of a grass field with Dothraki children. What warmed Jon’s heart was that sweet smile pasted on her lovely face. She was laughing with the children, running around with them. She picked up a little boy and he flapped his hands, as if he were a dragon himself. Tyrion looked at her with sadness in his eyes.

 

“Her boy, had he lived, would be as old as the one she’s holding now.”

 

Jon felt tears prickling his eyes.

 

“She will need an heir eventually.”

 

“Yes.” Tyrion said. “But for now, let her be Queen. She fought hard for her spot under the sun.”

 

Jon nodded. Another son of hers flew over their heads, the cream and gold one.

 

“He is my favourite.” Tyrion pointed at the dragon. “Viserion is the gentlest one.”


“Can dragons be gentle?”

 

“Yes. Look.”


Dany was giving all the children hugs and kisses before waving them goodbye. Jon thought about what he saw at the cliff as they climbed down to the mines where men were tirelessly working day and night to mine all the dragonglass they can. They were piles of it everywhere, large black mountains that matched Drogon’s scales. Gendry stood there, measuring some chunks and writing it down.

 

“Greetings, Lord Baratheon.”


“It’s Gendry. How are you, Lord Hand? Your Grace.”

 

“What are you doing there, Gendry?” Jon asked.

 

“I’ve been sketching weapons. As you know, I’m a blacksmith.”

 

“The first Lord to be a blacksmith, I imagine.”

 

“Yes. See?” He showed Jon the sketches for the short swords. “It’s too brittle for long swords, but bastard ones will do.”

 

The two men looked at each other and laughed loudly.

 

“You should go to Winterfell with the glass we have already mined.” Suggested Jon. “The forge there is large.”

 

“And you?”


“I need to stay here and plan. And then I’ll come back.”

 

Gendry nodded. “I wish Arya was here with us. She’d beat me with a stick probably if I told her that I’m friends with her brother.”

 

“She is my favourite sibling. When we were children, she’d coat me in flour and make me scare Sansa.”

 

Tyrion chuckled. “You children must have been a handful.”

 

“When I have a family, I’ll let my children run around and play in dirt, not sit in castles all day.” Proclaimed Gendry.

 

“If I ever were to have children, I’d teach them how to drink.” Laughed Tyrion.

 

A son of his own blood was something Jon never dared to dream of.

 

“You are going to make excellent parents.” He said.

 

“We need to go, a feast is about to start.”

 

The main hall of Dragonstone was filled with people. On the table were laid various dishes, ranging from meats to dishes Jon has never seen in his life. In the seat Aegon once sat, was Her Grace, but she looked different. She was clad all in white again, in a long sleeved dress that was of the shoulders, embroidered with red flowers on the side. It flowed around her like a beautiful shadow, her hair was in her usual braids but tonight, she had a small headpiece in the form of a dragon on her head. She looked divine, as if the Gods themselves sent her to tease him.

 

To her right was her Hand, and to her left was Lady Missandei. Next to Missandei sat the Master of War, and next to Tyrion was Jorah Mormont. Jon took a seat across Daenerys. The chair had a wolf carving on it, which surprised him greatly. Music started playing and Davos sat next to him. The Dothraki played their music, which was quite unusual. Dany clapped for them, her face shining in the candlelight. Yara Greyjoy sat on the other end of the table, her legs up on it. She bit a piece of the meat and chewed loudly. Theon shot her a strange look. Jon still wondered how he didn’t murder Theon in cold blood for what he did. Maybe because the good women in their lives stopped them. Jorah Mormont got up and picked his glass up.

 

“Less then a decade ago, I met a frightened young girl at the Dothraki sea. I watched her conquer, free and save lives. She became a brilliant young woman, The Queen we choose. To Daenerys Stormborn. Long may she reign!”

 

“Long may she reign!” Shouted the table.

 

Dany smiled sweetly. “Please, be free to dance. This is a celebration of life.”

 

Yara Greyjoy got up and pulled Ellaria Sand to her side, the two women twirling in the middle of the Grand Hall. Yara pranced over to Dany and offered her a hand and she took it. Gendry got up too, dancing with the elderly Olenna Tyrell who was slightly pleased with the turn of events. Davos offered a hand to Missandei and she took it, smiling. Jon didn’t want to sit alone so he got up too. Somehow, the crowd pulled him to Daenerys. He bowed his head and offered her a hand and she took it. Seeing her all in white, he imagined her to be his bride tonight, and this was his wedding feast, something he never even considered a possibility. Jaime Lannister offered to dance with Brienne, which warmed her heart. His gold hand made him a little clumsy, but he managed.

 

“Perhaps they should make you a hand out of dragonglass, so you can beat the wights back to death.”

 

Jaime laughed. “Perhaps.”

 

“What are your plans after we save the world?”


“If we survive, I intend to return to Casterly Rock, find a wife and maybe sire a child or two. And live peacefully.”

 

“That sounds like a good plan.”

 

“Let them rule.” He said, pointing toward Jon and Daenerys.

 

Jon held one arm on Dany’s waist and she held his shoulder, but they were pressed against each other, her left side against his right. She held her skirt up, and he spun her around in the old hall like the ghost of High Hearth did with Jenny.

 

After he put her down, she looked him in the eyes. Jon still felt that tug in his stomach.

 

“I have something for you.”

 

He followed her out of the room and she opened the top of her dress and pulled out a letter with the Stark sigil still in tact.

 

“It came before the feast. I didn’t open it.”

 

Jon cracked the letter open, a message from Sansa. Arya and Bran were well and alive, currently at Winterfell and Bran claimed to know where the Night King was and how to take him down. Jon dropped the letter.

 

“Bran and Arya are alive and home.” He grabbed Dany tightly, spinning her around the hallway. He put her down and apologised immediately.

 

“I crossed a line.”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Bran says it will take the Night King another year until he comes down. We have time.”

 

“Perfect. After we mine up the glass, you can go home.”

 

“And you’ll go with me. As an ally.”

 

“As an ally.” She nodded. “We will destroy him. Together.”


“Together.” Jon confirmed, kissing her hand.

 

 

Sansa was sitting by her window, looking at the winds sweep through the trees. She was between warm and cold. Lily came in and put more wood in the fire.

 

“Are you warm?”


“Not really.”

 

Lily came over. “Shall I fetch you another blanket?”

 

Sansa shook her head. “No. Come.” Lily took a seat across her.

 

“I’m terrified of what winter brings.”


“You are a Stark, you were made to endure winter.”

 

“What do you wish to happen after winter?”


“For spring to come. And you?”

 

“I wish to be happy. Perhaps even wed.”

 

“You want to marry?”

 

“Yes. I’ve always wanted a family. But with a good man...”

 

“Have you ever been in love?”

 

“I had a stupid crush on Jonas, our old stable boy. We kissed once. There was Joffrey, but that was a stupid childhood mistake. And there’s been...”


“Who?”


“Margaery.”


“That is an unusual name for a boy.”

 

“No, silly, that’s a lady. I mean she was. She died long ago.”

 

“I’m sorry for your loss. You loved her?”

 

“Dearly. She was kind and sweet and had the most beautiful face you could imagine. You look a little like her.”


Lily blushed. “Thank you, my Princess.”

 

Sansa came closer, her heart beating out of her chest. She kissed Lily. And Lily kissed her back. Sansa kissed her ferociously, the kiss deepening with every moment. She fumbled with her dress but Lily undid her own buttons, revealing her breasts. Sansa moved them to the bed and took off her thin white nightgown. Lily licked her lips. The night was still young.

 

Sansa woke in the morning, in a good mood after quite some time. Lily was gone from the bed. Instead, she was already preparing Sansa’s clothes, her hair neatly braided as always.

 

“Morning, Lily.”


“Morning, Princess.”

 

She looked at her with great interest. The handmaid acted as if nothing happened. Thank the Old Gods, Sansa thought.


“Lily? How did you find me?”

 

Lily leaned down and gave her a kiss. “I found you lovely.”

 

Sansa smirked. She got dressed and got ready to welcome the Lords to Winterfell. The first thing she saw was the yellow and black Baratheon banner. She nearly froze. They were gone, weren’t they?

 

“Lord Gendry Baratheon, Duke of the Stormlands, Lord of Storm’s End!” Announced the guard. Arya was training with some young Karstark boys when she heard the name Gendry. She turned around and saw the banner, Gendry sitting underneath it. Baratheon. Was he one of Robert’s bastards?

 

He got off his horse and offered a hand to Sansa. Arya watched with great interest. He turned around to face Arya, his mouth dropping. They ran to each other, embracing in a long hug.

 

“You’re alive.”


“So are you.”

 

“Baratheon?”

 

“Turns out, I’m a bastard of Robert’s.”

 

“Oh.”


They let go for each other and for the first time in a while, Arya couldn’t control her heartbeat.

 

Chapter Text

The mining was going well, for now. After one week of work, they’d ship it to Winterfell. There have been four shipments by now, the fifth one will be the last. With that final one, Jon would sail back to White Harbour and ride back to Winterfell. And this time, he laughed to himself, he’d bring a girl home. The Queen had been his companion most of the time, they were as if joined on the hip. They got to know each other well, she never ceased to amaze him with her spirit and kind heart. The Queen and her dragons helped the miners by taking the loads of dragonglass and flying them to the ships. They worked fast, but she was already rewriting Westerosi law and starting reformations even with the upcoming war. Of course, there was the issue of the North, but Jon usually didn’t mention this delicate matter. His days would start with breakfast with The Queen and her remaining council, then they’d take a stroll on the beach and train together for hours. She was getting much better with a sword, but she was much more proficient with a bow and arrow, as one can easily shoot someone with an arrow from a dragon. Visenya, had they met, would have been proud of her kin. They would eat lunch together, too. Then they developed battle strategies and plans how to organise the defence of Winterfell.

 

“If your brother can find the Night King, perhaps we can find him where he resides and take him out there.” Suggested Tyrion.

 

“I don’t think we should face the Night King in his element, Lord Hand. Who knows what he can do beyond the Wall...”

 

“Your brother, maybe.”

 

“I still don’t want to risk lives like that. Even Bran is unsure of his powers and what he can do. Let him come to us, to the lands where we are the most powerful. And take him down.”

 

Tyrion had to agree.

 

Dinner was also enjoyed in a large company. But Jon’s favourite part of the day was after dinner. He’d share tea with Her Grace by the fire with her Dothraki or visit the library with her. One time, she even introduced him to her mighty sons, Jon still trembled in his boots after that experience. He now hated going to bed, as he would wake up early and meet his friend and go on with his day.
He felt like a child again, that excitement when you make a new friend was unparalleled to anything else. But, now that time was concluding. In one week time, he’d be on a ship and she on a dragon. Daenerys was feeding her sons as he came to her, carrying a letter. Bran was begging them to come to Winterfell as soon as they can, he had some urgent news for them. They made an important discovery and the dragons were needed.

 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Dany’s wide smile as she faced him. In these past weeks, they overgrew their childish differences and became good partners and friends even, something she was happy about. What would her brother think had he seen her with a Stark bastard? But Viserys was dead, and even when he was alive, his words were mere wind and dust. Jon told her about the new developments.

 

“We need to work faster, then. Perhaps I should fly to Winterfell immediately.”

 

“No, let’s travel together. As a sign of our friendship.” He suggested. Dany felt something stir in her stomach.

 

“You want to fly with me?”

 

“I meant with a ship.”

 

“Oh, I see. Very well. We have a deal.”

 

She threw Rhaegal the last piece of horse meat and instructed Jon to follow her. The Painted Table room was filled with their allies.

 

“The King and I have decided to travel together to Winterfell. A little bit sooner, as my dragons are needed there.”

 

Jorah dropped his quill, Theon’s jaw dropped, Yara stopped stabbing the piece of wood she was holding and Missandei cowered her mouth. Tyrion spoke first.

 

“I see. A good decision, really. It will help the North see you as their ally.”

 

She nodded. “A Maester has discovered a way to forge Valyrian steel. But, for the spell to work, they need dragonfire. And I happen to know the last three dragons.”

 

“That is incredible, my Queen.” He said, clearly shocked.

 

“Unfortunately, I need Lord Spider to pull some old contacts from Volantis. We need the blood of a sheep that lives there to forge it.”

 

Davos came in last. “Excuse me for being late, I overslept.”

 

“Their Graces decided to travel together to Winterfell.” Proclaimed Tyrion. Davos’ eyes went wide.

 

“Oh, sounds like a plan. When are we taking off?”


“In four days.” Said Dany.

 

 

Sam felt odd seeing Winterfell without Jon. He always imagined if he ever were to see Winterfell, it would be with Jon Snow as his guide. But he imagined His Grace The King in the North had more important things to do than to walk a new Maester through the castle. Sam was able to forge his chain through pure luck and coincidence and incompetent teachers. Also, he discovered old books, one which explained how Valyrian steel was made, one where he found a diary of a drunken pyromancer who wrote about Aerys Targaryen and one which had some historical records about the Walkers, the Children and the first Long Night. After a long conversation with Jon’s sisters, he was led to meet Brandon Stark. Sam felt a little excitement as he walked to Bran’s chambers. He imagined as if he was meeting Bran the Builder or someone from that part of history, the heroes he used to read about as a little boy, fearing from his father. Last he heard, Randyll Tarly was imprisoned by Olenna Tyrell and his brother was taken ward. Serves them right. Horn Hill should have been his by birthright. Gilly came with him too, she was now spending time with Jon’s sisters and Little Sam. He thought about how Sansa looks nothing like Jon, while Arya looks like he imagined Jon to be if he were a girl. He knocked on the door, revealing Brandon Stark behind them. With him was a young girl, they were rummaging through some books.

 

“Samwell Tarly, I imagine.” Said Bran.

 

“Lord Brandon.” He said. “I discovered how to forge Valyrian steel. But we cannot without dragons.”


“Luckily, my brother is coming with three of those to protect us. I need to tell you what the Night King plans.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“He is searching for the Horn of Winter. Once he finds it, he can take down any wall that has been forged by magic.”

 

“The Wall.”

 

“Yes. Winterfell is safe, as our walls have been built by regular masons.”


“Can the Horn of Winter affect dragons?”


“No. They belong to a different kind of magic.”


“I think I know how the Walkers came to be.”


“They were created by the Children.” Bran said.

 

“Yes! But why?”


“I am not certain yet. I cannot reach the Night King, so I need to dig carefully. But for now, this is good.”


“Will he find the Horn?”

 

“It was buried by the Fist of the First Men.”


Sam gulped. He discovered that Horn long ago, but left it there because he didn’t want to disturb a potential grave or they could have belonged to someone else.

 

“Lord Brandon...”

 

On the other side of the castle, Sansa was crying to Littlefinger. Her shoulders were shaking and he was comforting her.

 

“What if she tries to kill me?” She wept. Littlefinger kissed the top of her head.

 

“Do not worry, my dear. I have suggestion. Marry me.”


“What?”


“I’m Lord Protector of the Vale. As my wife, you can come with me and live there, away from Arya. She can’t even touch you there.”


“I need Jon’s permission to wed, he’s the head of the family now.” She half-lied. Truth to be told, she can accept his offer, but Jon had the final word.

 

“Oh, I didn’t know that?”

 

“Yes. My father needed permission from his father to wed, so did Robb from our father. But, Father died before Robb could ever seek permission to wed.”

 

“Oh, I see. A written one?”


“Yes. With Jon’s seal.”

 

“When will he be here?”

 

“In a moon. He is leaving Dragonstone in four days.”

 

“Arya can kill you easily in that time frame.”

 

She nodded. “I know.”

 

“And you are my love, darling. I will protect you.”

 

She remembered how she was sold to Ramsay Bolton.

 

“Why of course.”

 

“I love you, Sansa, as I have never loved anything else in my life. Tell me, why are you consorting your handmaid?”

 

Sansa’s face turned white. “Who told you that?”

 

“I noticed she’s been staying with you, in your chambers.”

 

“She is a confidante of mine.”

 

“If it were to get out, you’d be in danger. The Northern Lords won’t look at you the same.”


“What do you suggest?”


“To kill her. Make it look like an accident.”

 

“She has a mother and four sisters. They need her money.”


“Winter is here. Will they last long?”

 

“I don’t know. She is loyal to me, she won’t speak.”


“If you say so. Will you join me for dinner tonight?”

 

“Probably, but my siblings insist we all eat together.”

 

“Then I’ll join the Stark family.”

 

She wanted to roll her eyes. She needed to search for Arya and tell her to hurry up with the murdering part, because Sansa’s stomach couldn’t bear to be in the same room with this man. She wondered where in the world Arya was now.

 

Perched atop a seat in the forge, Arya watched Gendry, who was shirtless, create a spear out of dragonglass. He dipped it in cold water to cool it off. Arya chewed on an apple, remembering a scene similar to this a while ago. Gendry threw it on the finished pile and turned to her.

 

“Enjoying the view, milady?”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

“I’m merely stating the truth.”


Arya bit off a large chunk of the apple and threw it at his head. Gendry picked it off and ate it. Arya chocked from laughter, clapping her hands and flailing her legs. Gendry continued working and started whistling. It was quite warm in the forge so Arya took off her cloak and draped it over a chair where Gendry’s shirt and vest were. The sound of the hammer clicking echoed through the courtyard. Of course, there were plenty of men and women working there, but in this secluded area, were only a wolf and a stag. Gendry stretched, his muscles coming forward. Arya licked her lips.

 

“So you are a Lord and a King’s bastard but you like to work in a forge?”

 

“I like to make myself useful, milady.”

 

“Do you, milord?”


“I see fate came back to bite me in the arse. Hard.”

 

“Mhm. So what will you do after this shit war?”

 

“Start a family. And then I guess I’ll live in Storm’s End. It’s much warmer there.”

 

“You don’t like the cold?”


“Depends on which cold.”

 

She smirked.

 

“Oh, I see.”


“And you?”

 

“I’m… I don’t know. I only know one thing. Winter is coming.”

 

“I just remembered your brother is King, which makes you a...”


“Don’t fucking say it.”


“Princess!”

 

“Fuck you!”


“Gladly.”

 

She nearly chocked on the apple. Gendry put down a finished spear on the pile.


“And I’m calling this a day.”

 

“Wow. You made three spears.”


“And ten daggers! You’re mean.”


She shrugged. “And what now?”


“Now, I want to have lunch.”


“Nymeria can catch you something.”

 

“I don’t know what to say to that offer.”

 

“Come.”


Nymeria caught them a rabbit and Arya was roasting it over a fire near the Goodswood. Gendry eyed the frozen pool and the red and white trees. He had never see something like it, so Arya explained to him that’s that the spot where people get confirmed in the religion of the Old Gods, where they wed and receive service when they’re dead.

 

“Like a Sept, but with less rules and more deities.”


“How many are they?”

 

“For every tree, river and land you see, for every wind and rain and snow you feel on your skin, there is a God.”

 

“Oh, I see. Did your parents wed here?”

 

“No, they wed at Riverrun. That’s where Robb was born. Jon was born in the South, too.”


“Where?”


“I don’t know. Mother thought he was born in Dorne.”


“Dorne? I’ve met some Dornish lords. The Prince is Dorne, but he has sent an envoy to represent him, as he’s ill. I’ve met Lord Edric Dayne, Lord of Starfall.”

 

“Dayne? Like Arthur Dayne?”

 

“Yes.”


“Wow. Imagine being related to Arthur fucking Dayne.”

 

“I’ve met one of my uncles. Stannis. He was colder than the fucking North.”

 

“When the Red Woman took you?”

 

“Aha. He just looked at me and spat “Robert.” I’ve never even met the man.”

 

“As if you picked your kin.”


“I’m kin with Daenerys Targaryen, not to brag. My great-grandmother was a dragon.”

 

“I admit, I’m a little jealous. My favourite relative is Great-Uncle Blackfish. But Jon is my favourite sibling.”

 

“I see. And do you believe in the Old Gods?”


“Yes.”


“What do the ceremonies look like?”

 

“They’re quite easy, mostly short and simple. Weddings last a few minutes and then we all go to drink.”

 

“Will there be a wedding soon? I could use a drink.”

 

“Is there anyone willing to marry? Sansa has no suitors, Bran and I are too young.”


“What of Jon?”


“Seven Hells, if that one marries, I’ll be in the first row, watching him sweat.”

 

“Why?” Laughed Gendry.

 

“He’s very clumsy around girls and if he really likes them, he’ll try to impress them.”

 

“How?”


“By doing something stupid, probably. But he never went to girls in his life. He, as a bastard, didn’t want to sire one.”

 

“He’ll need heirs.”


“I know. I just have a hard time imagining Jon with a wife and child.”

 

“Who will he marry?”


“I hope someone he loves. I don’t want him to marry for politics.”

 

“What does he look like when he likes a girl?”


“Like a lost puppy. I remember he liked a kitchen girl, Sara. She was a sweet, blonde thing. But alas, he didn’t try shit. He just gawked at her, with sadness in his eyes. Like puppy.”

 

“Oh dear.” Gendry said, thinking of the people in the South.

 

 

Wyman Manderly approached Ser Davos, who was writing the last letter to confirm they’ve started travelling to Winterfell. He wrote down the amount of people and who was coming to defend the North. He used the desk in Jon’s chambers, as he was almost always with his fellow monarch, exploring the island. He almost smirked, thinking how long it has passed since he saw something so pure and sweet. They looked like a maid and a boy falling for each other for the first time. He was snapped out of his happy thoughts by Wyman Manderly, a man who liked to fashion himself as the Tywin Lannister of the North, while he was more of a Mace Tyrell.

 

“I have an offer for His Grace.”


“He’s out riding with Her Grace.”

 

“You can tell him, then. I have two eligible granddaughters if he wishes to wed.”

 

“I don’t think The King plans to wed.”

 

“He’ll have to, eventually.”

 

“The King will answer you when he has time.” Said Davos, stamping the letter.

 

“What will I answer in time?” Said Jon, cheeks red from the wind, hair falling around his face.


“You’re already back?” Davos asked, confused.

 

“I came to fetch my gloves, the winds are quite strong today. I’m helping Daenerys feed her sons.”


So she was Daenerys already.

 

“You aren’t afraid to feed grown dragons?”

 

“As long as she’s with me, I’m safe.”

 

Davos’ eyes crinkled at the context.

 

“Your Grace, I have an offer for you.” Said Wyman Manderly.

 

“Yes?”


“As you know, my granddaughters are eligible and it would be my greatest honour to have you as a grandson-in-law.”

 

“Thank you, my Lord, but I don’t have any intentions to wed yet.”


“But you must, eventually.”


“I assume, yes, maybe. Good day.”


“And here’s your answer!” Said Davos, wrapping the letter up. The ink was dry.

 

Jon walked down the stairs, back to the cliff where Dany was feeding her sons. She wore leather gloves and she used her sword to butcher the ox for the three wonders. Jon pulled his sword out and started helping her. With Valyrian steel, it went quite quick and easy. She tossed the meat high up and the dragons would toast it and devour it. Jon was amused watching them. Ghost was there too, right beside her, also receiving chunks of meat. Dany was clad in a man’s white shirt and riding pants and an open dark red coat over it with red leather gloves. Somehow, she reminded him of Arya.

 

“How did these incredible beings disappear from this world? Watching them now, it seems to me that they’re impossible to defeat.”

 

“My family was stupid enough to chain and lock them up. Dragons are no slaves. In captivity, they stop growing. And grow weaker and weaker. As did my family.”

 

“But, you brought them back.”


“I did. But my family destroyed them. We became like everyone else.”

 

“You are one of a kind.” He blurted out, before stopping himself. She smiled, but he didn’t see it.

 

“And your family hasn’t seen it’s end. You’re still here, Dany.”


“I haven’t heard that nickname in a while… But I can’t have children.”

 

“And who told you that?”


“The witch that murdered my husband.”


“Has I occurred to you that she might not have been a reliable source of information?”

 

She closed her eyes. “I want a family, Jon Snow, I’ve never wanted more anything than a family. Fuck the Iron Throne, the crown, everything. I wanted a family.”

 

Jon felt his heart break. A white strand of hair flew across her face and Jon took off his glove to tuck it behind her ear. She blushed.

 

“You’ll have a family.”


Jon knew, he will never deny this woman anything. By hook or crook, he shall have her.

 

She smiled briefly, before tossing the last chunk to Ghost. Her heart was beating out of chest, butterflies dancing I her stomach.

 

“What took you so long?”

 

“Old Manderly wants me to marry one of his granddaughters.”


“And?”


“I mean I’ll have to marry eventually, and they are a prominent Northern house...”


She stopped. “But?”


“That’s all.” He poked.


She cleaned her sword and muttered something under her breath and left. Jon huffed as she walked away, her coat flying behind her. Jon turned to Drogon.

 

“What did I say wrong? Why is she angry with me?”


The dragon let out something like a burping sound and just rolled over and fell asleep.

 

“You’re ignoring me, too?”

 

Jon ran after her and grabbed her by the waist, nearly tackling her. Unfortunately, he tripped on a stone and they rolled down the hill together. Jon protected her head and now they stopped, he was on top of her. She gave him an annoyed look.

 

“Are you comfortable?”

 

He jumped up immediately and grabbed her hand, helping Daenerys up. She took a few steps back and fixed her hair. She was covered in grass and he could feel the wrath of a thousand dragons coming for him.

 

“Tell me, do you like cells?”

 

“Not really. Dany, listen. If I said something wrong and offended you, I’m deeply sorry. You’re a good person and I care for you.”
His pout melted Dany’s heart.

 

“I won’t lock you up. This time.”

 

“We’ll talk more on the ship.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Jon returned to his chambers, to pack the last things up and to take a bath. After he was done, hair still damp, he was packing up his armour and clothes when Davos came in with some men to take the crate.

 

“And now we begin our voyage home, after nearly two moons away.”


“Already? It felt like a week.”

 

“I imagine. Tell me, what do you think of her?”


“She has a good heart.”


“I noticed you staring at her good heart and many other things recently.”

 

“There is no time for that.”

 

“But for riding out with The Queen?”

 

“It’s complicated.” Said Jon. “What if she doesn’t fell the same?”

 

“What costs to ask?”


“To get rejected and ruin an entire friendship and alliance over my disability to keep my cock in my pants.”

 

“Son, I’ve seen how you look at her. This is more than just about her body. You love her mind, too.”

 

Jon closed his eyes. He hated how right Davos was.

 

“I’ll talk with her, tonight.”

 

“I imagine it will be easier in the privacy of the ship.”

 

 

 

The Targaryen flagship, Balerion, was standing at the docks of Dragonstone, ready to take the passengers to another side of the coast. Dany was walking down the port, leaving Varys with the last instructions.

 

“I hope all we go well, Lord Varys.”

 

“It must. The Seven Kingdoms need you. You must return for your coronation.”

 

She nodded, smiling.

 

“I’ll be back, soon.”


Varys bowed and left the port, preparing to take his place as regent. Daenerys climbed the ship and went for her chambers. She promised to have dinner with the Lannister brothers again, as they were a joy to be around recently. She imagined another life, where Rhaegar lived. She’d be a Princess of the blood and Jaime Lannister would serve in the Kingsguard. She imagined Rhaegar too would pick Tyrion as his Hand and she wondered if the three of them would have dinners like this. But that world will never come to be.

 

They enjoyed their foods when Jaime brought up Dany’s mother again and how gentle and kind she was to everyone.

 

“She deserved the world, your mother. And all she got was Aerys.”


“All because a witch prophetised that “The Prince That Was Promised” would be born from their line.” Tyrion recalled. “People tend to lose their minds over prophecy, Your Grace. If I remember correctly, our dear sister did too. Remember Jaime?”

 

“I felt terrible when I found out where she went after the Rebellion, with no one to protect her and her remaining children. Had all of your siblings lived, you would have been the youngest of seven.”

 

The idea warmed Dany’s heart.

 

“I imagine she must have felt terrible losing her children and being blamed for it by my father.”

 

“She loved a landed knight, if I remember correctly, but her father would have never let them wed.”

 

“As a princess, she’d never be allowed to marry for love. Only for duty.” She said with a sadness.

 

“It’s horrible what happens to women. Sold off to be married, like broodmares. Sometimes they rebel and sometimes they endure. Cersei managed somehow to do both.”


“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Her three children… I was their father. When Joff was born, that child spat pure hatred and misery upon this world… Myrcella was gentler and kinder, sweet as a flower. Tommen was a good one too, the boy never meant any harm. But, they were born to me and her.”

 

Daenerys didn’t looked phased at all.

 

“Are you telling me that Robert Baratheon left no legitimate heirs, not even one? I thought his children were dead, so I legitimatised his bastard. But he never had a lawful child?”

 

“No, Cersei refused to have his children. Probably because she despised him. She was in love with Rhaegar and wanted to marry him more than anything else.”

 

“And you loved her?” She asked with a sadness.

 

“As cruel as it sounds, yes. She was a part of my heart for my entire life. And then I had to give her up. The most painful thing I did. We came into this world together and I thought, we’d always be together. When I was younger, I fashioned myself to be the Warrior and my Cersei the Maiden. She turned out to be the Stranger.”

 

“But it was the right thing. Your love for the innocent lives out weighed your love for her.”

 

Tyrion took his brother’s hand. “It gets easier.”

 

“I sometimes feel like there is still some of her poison left in my veins.”

 

“Time heals everything.” Dany said, thinking of Drogo. Some things were much clearer to her now than they’ve been before.


“Have I ever told you about my first husband? He raped me on our wedding night. But, I grew to love him. I had to, for there was no other way to survive for me. I grew pregnant, a girl of six and ten, and then, I lost it all in one night. But, I came back with three dragons. The only children I’ll ever have.”

 

“Nonsense.” Laughed Jaime. “The throne needs an heir. Someone will have to continue your legacy.”

 

She shrugged. “The witch that murdered my husband cursed me and told me I will never bear a living child. Gendry is my closest living kin. When time comes, I’ll issue a degree or something so that his children will succeed to the throne.” She looked sad.

 

“The irony of it all was had his father been more tempered, none of this wouldn’t have happened.” Said Tyrion. “You think that’s a wise decision?”

 

“It is the best I can do. Unless you know how to lift a curse.”

 

“I wish I did. You are an excellent mother to your three sons.” Joked Tyrion. “They don’t even sneer at me any more.”

 

Jaime yawned and leaned back into his chair. “I’m still afraid of them.”

 

“I think we should call it a night.” Suggested Tyrion.

 

Dany nodded and went back to her cabin to change. The cabin was spacious, as any cabin for a monarch was. She had a large bed in there, a vanity, a crate full of clothes and a wooden bath tub. The curtains were drawn, probably by Missandei. Dany started untangling her hair and brushing it out. It became softer and wavy. She always looked younger with her hair loose. She took off her heavy clothes and boots and dressed in a simple, silky, lilac robe which tied around her waist with a thin band. She changed her mind and decided to wash herself and rubbed some soft, lavender oils on her breasts and legs. Then she heard a knock on the heavy cabin door. Annoyed, she thought that Tyrion had forgotten something. She quickly tied her robe, leaving the part around her breast quite exposed as she worked fast. Dany opened the door. It was Jon Snow.

 

Chapter Text

As Balerion was quite a large ship, Jon did have some trouble finding Dany’s cabin. The three headed dragon sigil gave it away. Jon stood in front of the door, trying to calm his breath, the familiar gravity pulling him in. So he tapped lightly at first, but then knocked harder with a stronger firmness. He wanted her more than anything in his life. She let the door wide open and he walked in, closing the heavy door behind him. He leaned onto it, breathing in heavily. What was he to do next? There she stood, illuminated by the candle light, looking lovely as always. And she was almost nude.

“Hello.” He whispered, his voice raspy and heavy.

“Hello.” She responded sweetly.

Jon gulped and walked several paces towards her. They stumble into each others arms, his lips pressed against Dany’s in desperation, tongue swirling inside her mouth as if to devour her. He breaks apart only for air and his gaze trails down her body, undressing her with his eyes.

 

“You’re teasing me in that robe.” Jon growls, stepping closer toward her.

 

Dany only smirks and leans in to whisper by his ear, “What are you going to do about it?”

 

He pushes her against the wall roughly and the way he’s looking at her with desire in his eyes makes her more excited than she will ever admit. When he kisses her again, it’s needy and filled with pent up frustration from the past few moons and perhaps even lifetimes; it makes her entire body melt and she mentally thanks what ever force exists out there for finally giving him the courage to come to her as he is.

 

“Was this your goal?” Jon asks when they break apart, a husky edge lingering in his voice. “To make me fall in love with you so hard that I forget why I came South?”

 

Dany hums, licking her lips. “It worked, didn’t it?”

 

With a snarl, he rips off her robe, the thin garment hitting the hard wooden floor, eyes flickering down to her now nude breast. He cups and massages them, feels her soft skin as he moves his hands in circular motions. Starting from the corner of her mouth, he leaves a trail of kisses down her neck and hears her sigh.

 

He took one of her rosy nipples in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive area. This earns him a moan, Dany’s back arching forward as she jerks her hips up to meet his.

 

Jon gasps at the delicious sensation of pressure against his dick and he can’t stop himself from grinding back into her, but unlike him, she was already nude. He can feel his breeches growing tighter by the minute, hating how his body responds to hers, how aroused he is already.

 

“I’m going to wreck you,” he breathes out, groaning. “Make you scream for all the teasing you’ve put me through.”

 

Dany tugs off his shirt, ripping it and throwing it behind them and wraps her arms around his shoulders, breasts pressed up against his bare chest when she whispers, “Oh, really?”

 

He feels a twitch in his pants and shit, she’s going to drive him crazy if she continues to talk to him like that. Guiding her over to her currently immaculate bed, he pushes her onto the mattress, observing the gorgeous view in front of him. She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, almost as though she’s waiting to be fucked, and Jon shudders as a fresh wave of arousal washes through him.

 

But he wants to see her completely ruined, wants to hear her beg. Ignoring his own erection still straining against his pants, he runs a hand up Dany’s thighs in feather-light touches, rubbing her legs. It’s not enough stimulation, he knows, but it’s just enough to leave her wanting more.

 

“Tell me, do we feel the same?” His voice is low and husky when he speaks, making her tremble with desire.

 

“What do you think?” she says, breath hitching with each of his ministrations. “I let you in my chambers at this hour, in y bed, and now you have me here, naked and waiting, Jon Snow.”

 

The way Daenerys says his name is what gets him to comply, followed by a loud moan that tells him just how horny she is. He slips between her legs, giving her a slow and long lick. Sounds of pleasure spill from her lips with each motion he makes and he feels his own body responding between his legs when he sees her quivering under his touch. The pleas forming in her mouth, the quickened breaths, the way she’s falling apart because of him—Jon didn’t think he could get even more riled up. If he wasn’t completely hard before, he certainly is now.

 

“I never thought we’d be here, like this...” he murmurs, leaning to grab her hips closer to him.

 

She groans. Dany felt his hunger all over again as he lapped between her legs, causing her thighs to tremble. Her eyes rolled back, toes curling as she came. Jon got up, licking his lips. She was now ready to give him all of this back, to fuck him enough to break a bone. Or was she?

 

Looking him directly in the eyes, Dany says, “I want to ride you, Jon Snow”

 

Jon licked his lips again, feeling how strong his own arousal was. Dany took of the rest of his clothes and got up. She only smirks as she pushes him down on the bed. Wrapping a hand around his hard cock, she gives it a firm stroke as she leans over to capture his lips. Jon moans into her mouth as she pumps him, pre-cum slicking his entire length.

 

She slipped on his body, laying on his right thigh. They were kissing again, playing with each other. Somehow, the animalistic urges wavered and Jon felt as if he wanted nothing more than to make love to her.

 

Taking advantage of their position, she stays there for what seems like hours, just barely brushing her heat against his erection. Finally, finally, Jon made his decision and turned her onto her back, causing her to sink into the mattress, entering her in one swift and smooth motion. He watches her take all of him inside, his member throbbing almost painfully as he feels her heat surround him. By the time she sends him a wink, ready to move, he’s already panting.

 

He leaned back to kiss her, moving smoothly in and out of her. Their kisses became more ferocious, more needy. He stopped for a moment to look upon her face. Pupils dilated and lips swollen, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Brushing a thumb across her face, he looked into the deep violet pools. He loved her. And she loved him. Dany batted her eyes, confirming what they both knew. They were meant for each other. If they live through this war, she shall never leave his side. It was a painful realisation, that this went beyond a night of urges, that this had complex and beautiful emotions interwoven into their lives. He made love to her that night. This intimacy is nice and something that Dany has not experienced in a long while. She watches Jon, something delicate breaking in the vicinity of her chest at the vulnerability and wonder in his expression, she realised something. They were in love with each other.

 

Jon pressed his forehead against hers and they came together, moaning loudly. He slipped outside of her and kissed her hand, lying down next to her small and warm body.

 

“I promised to ride you.” She said.


“Oh?”

 

“Get ready, Jon Snow.”

 

Back in Volantis, a high flame rose even higher, licking the ceiling with its might and heat. Kinvara rose from her seat, and bowed in front of the flame. A woman’s voice was calling a man’s name, a flood of blue winter roses tumbling down a river. A mighty winged beast roared, filling the night with hope. Footsteps were heard, a golden crown shone in the flames. A knight rode to a woman, giving her a white daisy, flames licking behind her. A lion ran into the fields, a great stag rose from the earth. Kinvara whispered.

 

“Show me. I need to see.” Her voice no higher than a whisper.

 

A babe cried, a newborn one. Stars shone in the night, then a wolf howled into the distance. And then she heard a woman giving birth, clutching someone’s hand. The Prince came, riding into a field of flowers and sirens. The flame calmed down and she inhaled deeply.

 

“Moqorro?”

 

“Yes, my Lady?”

 

“Go and find that exile Melisandre. It is her time to repay her debt and answer for her sins.”

 

 

 

Tyrion jolted awake in his chambers, the familiar sound of people fucking causing him to be wide awake. He scoffed and turned around in his bed. And then he jumped up. He remembered who was in the chambers next to his. Shaking, he got up and slipped on his slippers and wattled to Davos’ chambers. For the first time, he prayed Jorah Mormont finally got his wish, but he knew better. In that chamber, the Seven Kingdoms were being united in a way that would make maids blush. He tapped on the door with the wolf sigil and Davos creaked it open.

 

“What?”

 

“I assume your liege lord isn’t here.”

 

“No.”


“And where is he?”


“I hope he’s making love to the woman he loves.”

 

“I’ve heard them.”


“Atta boy!”

 

“No, not atta boy or atta anyone!”


“If she gets pregnant, they’ll have to marry and we have two joined crowns.”

 

“She claims that she’s barren.”

 

“She’s too young to be barren. Why are you here?”


“Seaworth, I’m here to ask you to swear an oath. We have now put the Seven Kingdoms in one marriage bed. The North and the South, united at last. This marriage will be the glue that holds together these lands. And we need to do our best to ensure this bond is never ruined. Whatever suitors come to Jon Snow, send them hurling down where they came from. And I shall do the same. Olenna tried to engage a nephew of hers to Her Grace as well as Doran tried. We cannot afford to accept smaller fish when we have two sharks mating.”

 

“Quite literally. What if we marry them? Or claim they’re married?”

 

“How so?”


“We can say they married in the Goodswood on Dragonstone and they consummated their marriage with you and me as witnesses.”

 

“We shall do that in the case Her Grace becomes with child.”

 

“Write today’s date down as the marriage day.” Davos pulled out a piece of parchment and forged the document. Tyrion pulled out the Targaryen seal and placed it next to the Stark one.

 

“The Dragon and the Wolf. Feels like yesterday I watched Westeros burn because Rhaegar chose Lyanna.”

 

“When the dragons love, hell breaks. Duncan loved Jenny and we paid the brideprice in corpses. Daemon Blackfyre loved Daenerys Martell and started a war for her. But then again, Jaeherys loved his Alysanne and the land thrived. Aegon loved Rhaenys and started a dynasty. An another Aegon loved a girl from a smaller house and made her his Queen.”

 

“I hope they will end this firestorm that Rhaegar and Lyanna had started.”

 

Davos nodded. “Shall we keep this document a secret?”

 

“Yes, until we find out Her Grace is expecting. Then we show them this parchment and seal.”

 

“Should we get a third witness? A neutral party?”

 

“Who is neutral here?”


They looked at each other. “Clegane.”

 

The Hound’s rooms weren’t far from the love nest, so the men woke him up. He was awake, carving a piece of wood.

 

“The fuck you want?”


“For you to sign your witnessing the marriage of ice and fire.”


“They’re married? That explains the sounds.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fine.”


He signed it and looked at it.

 

“They’re keeping it a secret?”

 

“For now. They married for love, but...”


“Any child she bears will be heir to both thrones.”

 

“Yes.”


“Well, I wish them good fortune. And tell them to keep it down.”

 

Tyrion thanked him.

 

“Davos, I’m your chamber friend from now on. I’m not ready to listen to that again.”

 

The Onion Night laughed and let the Imp have his way. In the morning, Brienne and Pod were waiting for everyone to come to the breakfast table. The Hound came in first, grunting, and stabbed a piece of ham and started chewing it loudly. Tyrion and Davos came in next, discussing something. Then came Ser Jaime. Brienne gave him a gentle look and he took a seat across of her. She took a spoonful of porridge and nearly chocked when she saw Jon Snow. His hair was loose and dishevelled and he had a rip on the top of his shirt. The King in the North was usually prim and proper, not a single hair out of place. She could swear there was some bruising on his neck. The King took a seat next to Davos and filled his plate with food. He looked famished.

 

Jorah Mormont came in next, wishing everyone a good morning. He took a seat next to Tyrion and poured himself a nice heap of porridge. The door creaked open again and there came in Queen Daenerys. Her hair was in a simple braid and her clothes were quite unusual for her, Brienne thought. She wore a white, man’s shirt and grey ridding pants. She too had strange bruising on her pale neck and chest. Jaime spat out his milk when he realised the implications.

 

“Ser Jaime?” Daenerys asked.

 

“I’m alright!” He shouted back in disbelief. Everyone turned around to look at the Lion, who was now frantically stuffing his bowl with porridge and fruits. Tyrion just ate his food, trying not to look at everyone. And then Ser Jorah spoke.

 

“How was everyone’s night?”

 

“Didn’t get any fucking sleep.” The Hound said.

 

“Were the seas rough?” Mormont asked.

 

“For some especially.” Jaime said, chugging down his milk. Brienne shot him a confused glare.

 

“Jaime, I remembered, your nameday is in a few weeks. Do you want a small feast?”

 

“Oh, you have my support!” Proclaimed Daenerys enthusiastically.

 

“Whatever you want, Tyrion. Why in the Seven Hells was I even named Jaime?”

 

“Father and Uncle Jason picked it.” Tyrion said.

 

“Now Jason, that is a name! Father did have odd choices sometimes. He intended to wed me to the likes of Elia Martell or Lysa Tully.”

 

“Tywin Lannister was a tyrant, albeit a competent one.” Said Daenerys. “Ser Barristan used to say that the Seven Kingdoms under the fear from the Old Lion. Tyrion, if this ever came to be my way, you have every right to poison me.”

 

He nodded. “Thank the Gods we are not our fathers.”

 

“What was Tywin Lannister like?” Asked Jon.

 

“As Her Grace said, a competent tyrant. Had he been King, he’d rule with an iron fist. I imagine if he were alive he’d have Cersei marry Her Grace or something.”
Dany laughed. “That was his solution for everything?”

 

“Well, he promised Cersei first Rhaegar Targaryen, but that went sour quickly, so she settled for Robert. That marriage was well, a disaster. He got her betrothed to Loras Tyrell and let me tell you, she was not amused.”

 

“I wish that marriage actually happened, it would be a laughing stock to see! She’d boil the boy for breakfast.”

 

“True.” Jaime remembered.

 

“I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like had my family lived.” Dany said.


“I imagine you’d marry your nephew, Aegon. You would have been Queen no matter what world.”

 

“Ashara Dayne told me once that Aegon was to marry his sister, but then Elia wanted to get her betrothed to her brother’s children, but Rhaella suggested a match between her and any Baratheon heir and it was settled.” Recalled Jaime.

 

“Ashara Dayne?” Asked Jon. “The sister of Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning?”

 

“That one! I remembered Harrenhall, Barristan and Ned danced with her. Lyanna and Brandon teased the living hell out of Ned for dancing with such a beauty. And she was incredibly stunning. She had purple eyes, just like you.” Jaime pointed at Dany.

 

“She was Elia’s lady-in-waiting?”


“Yes. She died after the Rebellion.”


“I see.”

 

In the afternoon Brienne climbed on the deck in order to breathe some fresh air. There was Her Grace, perched atop a bench, legs crossed. Her three sons flew above the ship, roaring. She looked up and smiled. The way she was clad reminded Brienne of the tales of Elissa Farman, the one who tried to find out what was West of Westeros and died miserably. She walked a few paces and bowed in front of Her Grace. The Queen smiled softly and instructed her to take a seat.

 

Never in her lifetime Brienne thought she’d see one of the dragons. Yet there she stood, clad like a pirate. She wore a soft expression on her face, looking at the faraway sea.

 

“Tell me, my Lady, how do you find our voyage?”

 

“I don’t like being stuck on a ship for too long, but, we’ll be there soon.”

 

“Is the North as cold as they say? I’m afraid to ask Jon.”

 

“Why?”


“I’m an outsider to them.”

 

“If you show them what you’ve shown us, they’ll come to adore you. I never thought I’d meet one of your kind.”


“I never thought I’d meet a woman-knight.”

 

“I am no knight.”

 

“What? You deserve more to be one than half of the knights in the land!” Dany asked Brienne for her sword. We need a witness.”

 

“Your Grace, there is no need to knight me.”

 

“My Lady, if I knight you, you can get offers most swordsmen cannot. Understand me? And this is beyond titles. I’ve heard of your accomplishments. I might to be the first woman from my family to sit on a throne in my own right and to rule just as a man did, save for Rhaenyra who historians like to erase, so shall I want to see the first woman to be knighted in my reign.”

 

Brienne nodded, understanding the power of The Queen’s words. If she were to choose, she’d either have Ser Jaime or a female ruler knight her. Queen Daenerys was a female ruler, and a good one at that.
As if summoned, the Lannister brothers came. They were confused why Daenerys was holding Brienne’s sword, but when Brienne knelt in front of Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime understood. Tyrion’s eyes widened.

“In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women....”

 

Brienne felt tears gathering her eyes. She dreamt of this many times, yet she never thought she’d see this. To be knighted as a warrior, a fighter in her own right.

 

“Arise, Brienne of Tarth. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Lord Tyrion, write this date down. Dame Brienne, I congratulate you.”

 

She nodded, thanking Her Grace. She turned to Jaime, tears in her eyes. He clapped for her.

 

“Now we’re both knights.”

 

Daenerys smiled. “This is a new age and my future Queensguard shall need a Lord Commander. As your ancestor, Ser Duncan the Tall served my family, I want the same of you. To be my Lady Commander. You shall have full choice of knights and fighters who will serve beside you.”

 

“Your Grace...” She was about to say that she swore an oath to Sansa Stark, but then she remembered, she is from the South too. Her liege was Lord Gendry Baratheon, and she knew, the North would never have her. She’d choose Jaime as a fellow guard, Tyrion can have Casterly Rock and the damned titles. They’d defend their new Queen, together. It was a life she was looking forward too.

 

“I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t you choose Ser Jorah?”

 

“He wants to retire home after the final war. And you are deserving of this position as anyone else. The Lord Commander sits on the Small Council as well, Dame Brienne.”

 

“I have an oath that I’ve made to House Stark.”

 

“If you accept my offer, I’ll be forever grateful. If not, I’ll wish you good fortune.”

 

“Thank you, my Queen.”

 

After Daenerys walked off bellow deck, Brienne wiped her tears of joy.

 

“Ser Jaime, she knighted me!” Brienne cried and Tyrion felt the urge to come up and hug her. Brienne of Tarth was one of the kindest souls to exist and she deserved and needed protection as much as the people she just swore to protect.

 

“Tyrion, I have a question or two.”

 

“Do tell.”


“Is Jon Snow fucking Her Grace?”

 

“Remember how I told you that Her Grace can’t have children? Jon Snow seems to be set to prove her wrong.”

 

Brienne blushed at the statement.

 

“Seven bless them. At least they have each other in this upcoming war.” She spoke. Jaime felt a pang of guilt in his heart, he knew after the war, if he were to propose to Brienne, she’d reject him. Not after this offer. Lady Commander of a Queensguard, a seat on the Small Council, her name in the history books as the first woman to ever serve in her position. Jaime knew that Tyrion was right. Sansa Stark meant peace, forgiveness and perhaps, a chance of happiness. Their child would have blood of Catelyn Tully too, perhaps a confirmation that he kept her daughter safe. He will be a good husband to her, he’ll try his best. Something told him that some people will put him in the grave for doing otherwise.

 

 

Daenerys walked back to her cabin, surprised to see Jon asleep on her bed. Or was it their cabin already? She knew, if she had her way, she’d never allow him to leave this chamber. Jon looked his age when he was asleep. His hair was messy, lips parted and he breathed slowly. Dany looked at the angry red scars she felt against her body last night. Not that it bothered her, but she realised, those are scars that only a corpse can carry.

 

“A knife to his heart for his people...” She whispered. She traced a finger on his abdomen, and his eyes batted open. He took her hand and kissed it.

 

“Ser Davos wasn’t exaggerating, wasn’t he?” She asked, plopping down next to him and lying down on his chest. Jon hugged her.

 

“He was telling the truth. I was stabbed by my brothers at Castle Black. I died and was brought back my a red priestess.”

 

“Jon, I’m so, so, sorry.”

 

She wrapped her arms around him, her warm body heating him up. Jon hugged her back, and so they held each other. Dany was certain she’d fall asleep too, when Missandei barged in with hot water.

 

“Time for your bath, my Queen!” She shouted, jolting them both awake. She poured in the hot water and Dany noticed the bathtub was already nearly full. Missandei must have been in and out of her chambers while they were asleep. Daenerys got up, yawning. She discarded her clothes and hopped into the hot tub. Steam filled the room and Missandei opened one of the circular windows. Jon was awoken by the rustling in the room and jumped up when he saw Missandei. He covered himself up in panic and the scribe just laughed.

 

“You Westerosi are quite prude, aren’t you?” She shook her head as she poured some oils and scents into the water.

 

“I’ll be back if you need me, my Queen.”

 

Jon was blushing now.

 

“She is quite liberal.”

 

“In Essos, people wear thin and loose clothing. Imagine my confusion when I saw a corset for the first time.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a corset.”

 

“Is that so, Jon Snow? For someone who claims not to be a poet, you certainly have a way with words.”

 

Jon got up and walked a few paces towards the tub and dipped his finger in. The water was scorching.

 

“Seven Hells, woman!”

 

“I am the blood of the dragon. This is nothing.” She dipped underneath and her hair was now wet. She rubbed some oils in her scalp.

 

“What are those for?” Jon asked, leaning on the edge.

 

“They make my hair nice and shiny. Oh come in, it’s not that warm.”

 

Jon waited for a while and then got it and Dany rubbed his head with those delicate smelling oils now.

 

“Your hair will be even prettier now.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes. After the bath, he went to fetch dinner for both of them and stumbled into the kitchens. Davos eyed him and Jaime sniffed the air.

 

“You smell like a woman.” Davos said.

 

Jon stopped in his tracks.

 

“And?”

 

“Your hair looks nice.” Tyrion joked, trying to keep himself from rolling on the floor and dying of laughter.

 

“Anything else?” Jon asked, holding a tray.

 

“Enjoy your evening, Jon Snow.” Said Tyrion.

 

He was certain he would.

Chapter Text

“Are you awake?”

Davos asked, knocking on the door. Jon stirred in his sleep and got up, groggily. He yawned and pulled on his breeches and a shirt. Dany slept right beside him, Ghost snoring at the foot of the bed. Jon creaked the door open.

“Is it urgent?”

“We are nearing a glacier and the ship might collide with it.”

Jon looked at Dany, peacefully sleeping. He furrowed his brows and let Davos in. The Onion Knight looked around the spacious chamber. It looked like it belonged to a married couple, truly. There were two chairs by the vanity, a large stack of towels, two crates with various clothing… He smiled to himself. Jon knelt next to the bed, lightly stroking Dany’s face. She fluttered her eyes open.

“Jon?”

“Love, there is a glacier which we might hit with our ship. Can you fly and melt it?”

She got up immediately. The Queen wasted no time. Davos turned around, realising she’s nude. Dany pulled on a pair of pants quickly and one of Jon’s numerous shirts. She put on a pair of boots and searched for her red coat.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t sink the ship until I return. We still have to celebrate Ser Jaime’s nameday tomorrow.”

She left the cabin swiftly, Davos bowed his head with a slight smile. Jon, still half-asleep, sat down on one of the chair by the vanity and leaned his elbows on it. His hair was ruffled and framed his face, giving him the appearance of a sleepy, dark cloud. Davos sat down on the settee, where Ghost joined him, now awake.

“Ghost, my boy, don’t eat the pillows.”

Ghost enjoyed sniffing the silky, colourful pillows that decorated the room. The direwolf put his ears down and looked at the ground. Jon shook his head and Davos laughed, loudly. Ghost jumped off the settee and climbed on their bed. Jon scoffed.

“Now I’ll never get him off. Dany doesn’t mind, but his fur gets everywhere.”

“Dany?”

“The Queen.”

“That sounded very… familiar.” Jon gave him a small smile.

“I know. Ser Davos, we reach White Harbour in a three days, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you please do me a favour when we get off?”

“Tell me.” Jon pulled out a small sack filled with gold and a small box. He opened it, showing Davos pale, milky stones with colourful specks on it. Davos realised they are precious, probably worth a fortune.

“When we mined dragonglass, we found these beautiful white stones. The locals called them dragoneyes, and I thought they were beautiful. They remind me of Dany, even. When we arrive there, find someone who knows how to turn these into a ring.”

Davos’ brows rose in awe.

“You intend to propose to her?”

“Yes. But I need a ring first. Can this remain our little secret?”

“Of course. There is quite a bit here of just one ring.”

“Then turn the rest into jewellery, the craftsman will know what to do with them.”

Davos took the box and coinpurse and nodded.

“Very well, Jon Snow. Your future bride shall have a beautiful ring.”

“Thank you, Ser Davos.”

Davos hid the package underneath his cloak. He imagined, had his son lived, he’d be the same age as Jon Snow was now. The Onion Knight thought to himself that perhaps, in a kinder world, he’d be buying a ring with his son. He was taken back that Jon trusted him with something so important, so personal to him. Davos understood, these was beyond personal. This was the future of the realm. This marriage will mend the Seven Kingdoms back together, a Queen with dragon blood and a King with wolf blood sharing a throne beside each other, ruling as equals. The North and the South will be satisfied with this outcome and any future ruler will have their blood. History was written now, in white stones. Dany came back into the cabin, shaking from the cold. Jon wrapped her in thick furs, cussing her for not wearing thicker clothes when she flies. Dany nodded, shivering.

“You are right, I’m used to flying in warm places. We should visit Essos sometimes and the Bay of Dragons. You’d like to feel some warmth on that pale, Northern skin.”

Jon smiled. The thought of travelling faraway with her warmed his heart. But, the Dead were coming. He hugged Dany and they fell asleep. Right as they were spirited away to sleep, Ghost decided the rug isn’t comfortable enough and jumped in between the lovers. Dany laughed and Jon inhaled deeply, stroking his fur. The happy trio fell asleep together.

 


 

 

Soft snowflakes fell on Gendry’s nose. He sneezed and Arya handed him her handkerchief. Gendry thanked her and continued piling the weapons in storages. Arya was helping him, they were discussing some upcoming battle plans and food storages. Gendry sneezed again, now more violent. He sat down and sneezed one more time, wiping his face.

“If you dare get a cold now, I’ll kill you.”

“Have you considered becoming a Maester? You’d decrease the number of ill immediately.”

“Gendry. I’m serious. You’ve never been North. You grew up in the warm sun of King’s Landing and you’ve never seen winter. What if you get a lung inflammation?”

“Is that all?” He asked, looking her in the eyes, steel grey meeting storm blue.

“And we… I need you here, with me. I’ve lost my parents, two brothers and numerous loved ones over the years.” She squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t bear losing another one.”

Gendry’s eyes lost its usual mirth, his features becoming softer. He kissed her on the cheek, stroking her face.

“I love you, too.”

Arya looked down, blushing a little. This was stupid shit Sansa used to read and gush about, about knights in shining armour coming down and loving their maids and telling them pretty words and touching their faces gently. And the worst part was, she enjoyed it. She stuck her tongue out to Gendry.

“Since when did we get so soft?”

“Get? You bear so much love in your soul, Arya. Love for your family, your friends, your country and I hope someday, me.” Her lips curved into a smile.

“You have always been my family.” Gendry was about to open his mouth again, when a chambermaid, clad in usual linen and an apron, ran out. Arya recognised the frightened girl as Sansa’s handmaiden Lily. She was as pale as a ghost.

“Princess Arya! Princess Arya! Come! Lord Baelish has locked himself in the room with Princess Sansa!” Arya got up, pulling out Needle.

She turned to Gendry. “Take your warhammer and break down Sansa’s door. I’ll climb the tower and break the window.”

She took a few pieces of coal for help and ran to the base of Sansa’s tower. She started climbing, just as Bran once did, before his legs broke. She hoped there was no Jaime Lannister to push her down and break her spine. She was almost there, stone by stone. She took out a piece of coal and tossed it at the window panel, breaking it half. Then, she grabbed momentum and jumped into Sansa’s bedchamber. Sansa was cornered, holding a candlestick to Baelish. He was shouting at her, screaming about betrayal and loss.

“I loved you, for fuck’s sake!”

“You sold me to Ramsay Bolton!”

“I didn’t know he was a monster!”

“Lies!”

Then Gendry’s hammer burst through the hard wooden door and the last Baratheon barged in, preventing Baelish from escaping. Arya didn’t think twice, she slit his throat and he fell, bleeding down on the stone floor. Sansa fell to her knees, shaking. Lily, who followed Gendry wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and whispered something to her.

“Get the Maester!” Shouted Arya.

“He’s dead.” Said Sansa, pointing at the corpse.

“For you!” Arya said, kneeling down next to Sansa.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. I mean, he tried, but failed. He just entered my room and started attacking me. He planted some servants to listen to us and he found out that we were plotting against him. He made a mistake by losing his temper, because Lily saw him come in and lock the door. And now, he’s dead. Defeated, but not outwitted.”

“He was sickly obsessed with you, wasn’t he?”

“He compared me to Mother all the time. It made my skin crawl.” Arya shook her head. “I shouldn’t have ever suggested we play him. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all good.” Sansa offered her an arm.

“He’s gone now, he cannot hurt anyone.”

“What do we tell to the Lords of the Vale?”

“That he tried to attack me because he was madly in love with me. That’ll do. The Lords despise him, anyway.”

“Sansa, you go bathe and sleep in my rooms. Lily, take the Princess and help her. We’ll clean the corpse and take care of everything.”

“We?”

“Gendry and I. Go, rest.” Sansa gave Gendry a confused glare before she went with Lily, clinging onto her.

“What do we do with the body?”

“Feed it to the hounds or burn it. You don’t want that one coming back for you.”

“Who was he, anyway?” Arya turned to him.

“I need to ask Bran. Perhaps he can use his sight and find out more about Baelish. I know my Uncle Brandon gave him a scar on the belly for coming to my mother.”

“Why would your uncle defend her?”

“They were to marry.” Said Arya, gesturing him to come out of the room with her. “Uncle Brandon was the eldest. Then came my father, Ned. Then there was Aunt Lyanna and Uncle Benjen. All gone now.” She whispered, sadness dripping from her voice. “Uncle Brandon and Grandfather Rickard were killed at the hands of the Mad King and Aunt Lyanna died in the Rebellion. My Aunt Lyanna was betrothed to your father, King Robert. But, she was kidnapped by Prince Rhaegar and the rest is, well, history.”

“I thought Northerners don’t marry outside of the North.”

Arya stopped in her tracks. Gendry was dead right. Robert and Catelyn were Southerners, not even a drop of First Men blood. She scratched her chin. Why did her grandfather make such matches and what does that have to do with the North and the Rebellion and Baelish? Her mind was working, trying to collect all the memories and tales she heard from her father about the past. She knocked on Bran’s solar where he was buried in a pile of books, Samwell Tarly helping him.

“Bran, I need you to find out something.”

“Tell me.”

“Why did Grandfather Rickard find Southron matches for his children and what does that have to do with the Rebellion and Baelish?”

Bran looked confused. “I have never even considered that. Now you mention it, our grandmothers were from the North and our great-grandmothers too. Hold on.”

His eyes went blank and Bran felt a surge of power through his veins.

Bran saw a chamber with high walls, a large dinner table set and filled with everything, from soups, to chicken to sweets, even a giant, roasted swan was serving as the crown jewel of the table. There was a giant banner with a silver trout swimming on a field of red and blue, with the words “Family. Duty. Honour.” embroidered on it. A man with auburn hair was sitting there, cutting a turkey leg. He was dressed in red in blue, a man looking very similar to him, but in black, sat across him. Bran recognised Grandfather Hoster Tully, although barely, as he saw him once in his lifetime. Across him was Great-Uncle Blackfish, chewing loudly a crab leg. Then there was Rickard Stark, his solemn face illuminated in the candlelight. Next to him was Brandon. Bran’s heart stung at the image of his uncle, he looked so much like Robb. Across Brandon, a man with light blond, nearly greying hair, was sitting next to someone who looked like a very bearded Gendry. Bran rubbed his eyes. Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon sat there, calm as ever.

“I think my Cat will make a good match for Brandon. Of course, she is a bit younger than you, but you will find her charming. Our terms are simple, you marry in the Faith of the Seven and we will provide you with a sizeable dowry and what not. Jon, as we agreed, Lysa will do once she’s of age. My sister is, as you know, widowed, but too old to have children. I’d suggest a match, alas, you need heirs.”

Blackfish was chewing louder now.

“And this is how you sell your daughters? What would Minisa say?”

“Minisa would say to do what is necessary. My daughters will be Duchesses and ladies of two great houses. Is there a better fate for a young noblewoman?” Blackfish scoffed.

Lord Rickard turned to Robert.

“What was it that you wanted to ask me, Lord Robert?”

“Please, call me Robert, for I intend for us to be family soon. I wanted to ask for the hand of your daughter, the Lady Lyanna.”

Rickard looked glad.

“And you shall have it. Ride back to Winterfell with us, so we can confirm the match.”

Robert’s face glowed with happiness. Dinner continued. Bran noticed something hiding behind the banner. He walked a few paces and saw Sansa holding a girls hand. He blinked and realised it was actually his mother and her sister. They were listening eagerly, taking in the news. They ran out of the room, Cat giddy and dancing through the hall. She looked so much like Sansa, but her eyes were softer.

“Lysa! We’re going to be Duchesses!” She ran upstairs. Underneath the stairs, a little, scrawny boy came out. Bran recognised him immediately.

“Lysa? What did Cat just say?”

“Father intents to wed her to the devilishly handsome Brandon Stark. And I get an old man.” She said, frowning.

“Not if I can help it.” Lysa smiled.

“Thank you for thinking of me, Petyr.” Bran could see in Littlefinger’s face what he meant. He ran back to the dinning room, where now just Brandon and Rickard were. 

“How dare you match us with Southerners? What will the North say?”

“If you think we can survive without the South, you are greatly mistaken, son. Our crops are sparse at best. I wish I could make a Tyrell match, but Olenna’s daughters are married off already. We need the food, Brandon. Winter is coming.”

“We can make it on our own, as we have, for thousands of years.”

“No, we did not. We raked up debt from bad trading deals. This will insure us a bond with the South by blood. You will marry Catelyn Tully and Lyanna will marry Robert Baratheon. For the entire North shall starve and perish.” Brandon shook his head.

“Are we that weak?”

“We’re in debt, Bran. We don’t have enough land to grow food, nor does anything grow in the winter cold. Do you care for our people?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will act as I say.” Bran realised why his father was so stressed in the earliest days. Ned had a debt hovering over his head, one that Robert Baratheon undoubtedly must have either helped with or pardoned. Bran knew, there weren’t many mines up there, the earth was frozen sometimes and they barely grew potatoes. Grandfather Rickard was trying to solve the problem that the past generations of their family have created due their pride and closed minds. Was their pride more important than their survival? He thought of Sansa, who opened her mouth about independence whenever she got and Jon being King. Grandfather Rickard must be rolling in his grave. He wanted to save the North and find allies, just as Jon was doing now, and he got scoffed and sneered at by his own family. Bran got up and left, roaming the halls of Riverrun. Hands shaking, he followed his grandfather. He didn’t understand everything, but he’d knew, there must be someone to ask in his time. Bran ran after the Starks, his namesake cursing a million words. Rickard stopped in his tracks and shouted.

“We need to survive! Winter is coming, Brandon!”

“I don’t care for the fucking winter! I want to marry who I please!”

“Then join the Night’s Watch and fuck as many whores as you I want! We need to put our people before our needs. They depend on us.”

“What have they ever done for us?” Brandon spat, venom lacing his voice.

“If this is about Barbrey, I’m sorry.”

Barbrey Dustin? Bran knew, he had to go back home. But his vision pulled him again and he stood in a chamber that now belongs to Arya Stark. It looked almost the same, they blue and grey tapestries of wolves and snow were still hanging on the walls, only the bed was turned on the left wall instead of the right. There stood a woman with long, dark hair, burning some letters in the fire of the hearth. Bran smiled. Aunt Lyanna had always been a wild one, even there, clad in a night gown and burning letters, she reminded him of Arya. Lyanna’s face revealed nothing within, but her eyes were focused on the fire. The door creaked open and his namesake came in, falling on Lyanna’s bed. His father followed, his eyes cast in dark shadows. Ned sat down on a chair by the table, concern washing over his face.

“I’ve heard.” She said, eyeing Brandon.

“To think that it was once an honour for Northern noblewomen to marry a Stark.”

“And for Northern houses to have a Stark daughter as lady of their house.” Brandon answered. Lyanna scoffed.

“I’d rather rot in all Seven Hells than marry Robert. He has his bastards if he needs heirs.”

“But that is your fate, Lya.” Ned said. “And you think Father will allow you to marry her?”

She shouted. Bran’s eyes widened. “Her” might be Jon Snow’s mother.

Ned looked down.

“I love her with all I have.”

“Love won’t lead you anywhere.” Brandon whispered.

“Hoster even said, is there a greater fate for a young noblewoman than to be lady of a castle?”

“Yes.” Lyanna spoke, ice in her eyes. “To be Queen.” Brandon rose from the bed, eyes wide.

“Rhaegar is married.”

“Aegon took two wives. I can be his Visenya.”

“Lyanna, do you think Father will allow it?”

“The dragons always take what is theirs. I want to be Queen and change things. I can make Rhaegar forgive the Northern debt. I can make him help the North and bring peace and prosperity.”

“And you think Elia Nymeros Martell will sit beside the fire and let her husband take another wife? Lyanna, if you give him a son, the Seven Kingdoms will bleed. The North will stand beside your son and the South beside Elia’s after Rhaegar is gone, and what will happen? Another Dance of the Dragons?” Ned said, face paler than Ghost’s fur.

“You say if I give him a son. Perhaps, I’ll have girls.”

“Then he will marry that girl to his son. That’s what they do.” Brandon said. “You have a lot to gain, but everything to lose. Lyanna, tell me, you love Rhaegar?”

She looked down. “It’s not that simple.”

“You are a girl of five and ten, and he is a man grown of three and twenty. Don’t you think you are too young and inexperienced at the game for you to fall down the pit of power and destruction?” Brandon said, holding his head.

Lyanna frowned. “What I do is by my own will, no one else’s.” The siblings argued for a while, then the brothers left. The night fell, and in the hour of the owl, Lyanna opened her window. A man climbed it, his hair covered by a cloak. Lyanna smiled widely as the man took off the dark fabric of the woollen coat. His long, silver mane glistened in the candlelight, the purple of his eyes shining at Lyanna.

“My love.” He smiled, grabbing her waist. Bran remembered, Aegon had married Visenya out of duty and Rhaenys for passion. It seemed that Rhaegar had shuffled his cards differently. He and Lyanna were engaged in a passionate and heated kiss before separating. There was a pile of clothes neatly folded on the bed and a letter. She put them all in a sack.

“Do you have a wedding gown?” He asked.

“I’ll figure something out.”

She said. She took out a dagger and pinned it on a wooden pillar. She followed Rhaegar out of the window and rode hard to Dorne. In the morning, Brandon and Ned came into Lyanna’s solar, in order to apologise. The chamber was empty and the window wide open, leaves and branches that the wind carried in over night covering the bedroom. Then Brandon saw the letter. He grabbed his head and sat down.

“She did warn us.” Ned spoke finally. “We need to tell Father.”

“No, Eddard, if you care for the honour of our family, you will burn this letter and I will tell Father Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna.”

“Are you mad? Why lie to him when we know the truth?”

“The truth is that Rhaegar kidnapped our sister.” He got up.

“How will it look to the entire South if the daughter of our house ran away with a married man?” Ned was clutching the piece of parchment.

“Do as I say.” Brandon left and started shouting and Ned threw the letter in the fire. He looked at the open window.

“Forgive me, Lyanna.”

Bran ran through time again, finding himself at the Tower of Joy. There stood a woman, dressed in a deep purple shift. She was holding a torch, as night was falling. Next to here, there was another one, clad in bright orange. There was disdain painted all over her faces.

“You are aware that you can stop this.”

“And what then?” She asked.

“I watched this marriage crumble every day. If this is how we save it, so be it.”

“Elia...” Rhaegar came down from the Tower, dressed for the nines. A man in white armour followed him, a large sword clinging on his back. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

“Are we all ready?” Asked Rhaegar.

“As we could be.” Spoke Elia. She walked ahead, Ashara following her suit. Arthur walked with them. They reached a meadow where a Septon stood, holding a book. “I hope you are aware that the Faith highly disapproves of this, my Prince.

“All will be well once my Father is off the throne. I intend to be the engine of change. Fear of no gods, for the dragons shall return.” Answered the Silver Prince.

Bran was terrified now, the game was getting more dangerous. The people on the meadow turned, watching a small figure clad in light green walk towards them, a crown of blue winter roses decorating her head. Rhaegar offered her an arm they knelt in front of the Septon. He performed the ritual.

“Arise, Princess Lyanna.” Rhaegar said, kissing her hand. “My wife.”

She rose proudly, smiling. Elia stood right beside them, watching. The look on Ashara’s face said it all. The Seven Kingdoms will once again, pay the brideprice in corpses.

“And I, Rhaegar of House Targaryen, First of my Name, declare myself King of the Seven Kingdoms today, and you, my wives, my two Queens. Just as Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys brought peace, so shall we.”

Bran remembered, Rhaenys died in Dorne. Ashara and Arthur bowed. Bran woke up, fed up with the amount of dead people he had to see today. He turned to Arya, her tired eyes monitoring him closely.

“And?”

“We need to speak to Barbrey Dustin.”

 


 

 

Jaime was sipping on the last of his wine tonight. His nameday feast was getting out of hand, Davos and Tyrion were drunk and singing loud songs, with Bronn banging a tray against the table in order to create some music to follow them. The Queen was laughing, holding her belly. She wiped a tear and clutched Jon’s shoulder, trying to catch her breath. She took a sip out of her wine glass and looked over to Jon. His eyes were gleaming at her like two dark stones. She saw some lust in there, but his eyes revealed how deeply in love he was with her. Dany felt in the silence, now. They were in love. And the prospect terrified her. She had various lovers, but none of them could hold a candle to Jon Snow. His eyes told her that tonight, she wouldn’t be bored. Tyrion was leaning his head against Jaime’s shoulder, watching the young lovers. Jaime turned his head, looking at them.

“Let’s play a game.” The Queen got up, excusing herself.

“I need to tend to my sons.” Tyrion poured everyone a chalice full of wine and rose it above his head.

“I will speak a truth and if I am right, you must drink. He turned to Jaime.”

“You’ve been with only one woman your entire life.” He said, looking him dead in the eye. Jaime nodded and took a sip. Brienne was confused, she expected women throwing themselves at Jaime Lannister.

“You killed a child.” Jaime said, looking at Bronn.

“No, never.” He responded.

“Drink, Lannister.” Bronn turned to Ser Davos.

“You have a wife and a family.” Davos nodded, sipping a little wine. He looked over to Tyrion.

“You were married a few times.” Tyrion made a sour face and chugged the wine down. He turned to Jon Snow, who was watching them play their game.

“You’re in love.” Tyrion stated a fact, without naming names.

Jon looked down and drank the glass in one swing and got up. Without speaking a word, he left the feast, in search for Dany. She stood there already, in their chambers. Dany was clad all in white, her hair half in braids and half down. She gave him a confused look.

“Jon, are you alright?”

“I love you, Daenerys Stormborn.” He proclaimed. “And I want everyone to know it.”

Her brows rose. “What do you mean?” He took her hand and got on one knee.

“My sword is yours, my life is yours, my heart is yours. Marry me, Daenerys Stormborn.”

Chapter Text

Snow was covering the highest tower of New Castle, the seat of House Manderly. The Merman banner flew high even with the cold wind blowing. A tall man dressed in a heavy cloak entered the keep through a secret door back and climbed into the chambers reserved for the royal envoy. He knocked on the door with a Stark sigil, but no one was inside. Scoffing, he knocked the door of the chamber with the dragon sigil and the door creaked open. Jon Snow’s head peeked through it and he smiled.

 

“Thank you, Ser Davos.”

 

“It was my pleasure, Your Grace. And congratulations.” Jon closed his eyes. Dany told that she will marry him on the ship, but that proposal was informal and not proper, not the right way he wanted to do it. Dany was behind a curtain and getting dressed for their long night walk where he intended to put the ring on her finger and seal the deal forever and ever. He knew that this was the woman he wanted to fight for and the reason to defeat the Night King. She came out of her hiding spot, clad in a coat made out of thick, white fur and a red scarf tied around her neck. She looked divine. Jon pulled on his cloak and offered her an arm. The couple escaped the castle in the silence of the night, leaving footsteps on the snow. The cold winds blew and Jon covered Dany with his cloak until they reached the mostly abandoned Godswood. Jon knelt in front of a tree and touched the ancient face. Dany knelt beside him and watched.

 

“Is this how the people in the North pray?”

 

“Somewhat. I’m here to swear an oath.”

 

“Why?”

 

“An oath to you.”

 

“To me?” She asked, brows raising high. “Why to me?”

 

“I, Jon Snow of House Stark, bastard son of Eddard Stark, swear upon the Old Gods that I will marry, love, protect and serve Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, as long as I live.”

 

One hand in hers, the other touching the face of the tree. Dany locked their lips in a quick kiss before pulling away. There were tears in her eyes.

 

“I am yours and you are mine.” She said, their foreheads touching. He kissed her again and then pulled one hand in his pocket and took a small box out. Dany looked at it slightly confused and he opened it, revealing a ring with dragoneyes on it. Her eyes blew wide open.

 

“To make it more official.” He took off her glove and placed the ring upon her hand and kissed it. As a child, Jon dreamt of moments like these, where he’d hold a wife of his own choice in a Godswood and talk marriage.

 

“Jon, you are aware that I cannot have children. I’m so…”

 

“Don’t apologise, ever for that. We’ll find heirs somehow. Doesn’t matter. First, we live, then we leave something behind us.”

 

She nodded, before kissing him again. She received many pieces of jewellery in her lifetime, but never something as precious as that ring. Her eyes were full of tears as they walked out of the Godswood back to the Keep where they laid beside the fire with Ghost. She had a bright smile on her face, looking at the ring as if it was the most magical thing in the world. And to her, it was. The promise of a family, kinship, perhaps even a legacy then.

 

Jon held her face, trying to soak in that she was real and alive, in front of him. He cursed every god or man that would try to take her away, because he never wanted anything more than her.

 

“We’re going to be a family, Dany.”

 

She kissed him again. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“Should we announce it?”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

She straightened her back. “To seal our alliance!”

 

“To seal our alliance.” Jon confirmed, kissing her again.

 

“To seal your alliance?” Shouted Lord Manderly, his large belly shaking with him. The grand hall was filled with half of the Northern envoy, all somewhat surprised their King is wedding a Southerner. But, it made perfect sense. Their marriage would mean a union between the Seven Kingdoms once again and many more things. The couple was clad in their house’s colours, the King wore a red flower on his chest and Her Grace wore white and grey, probably to signify unity and acceptance among their families. The King was holding The Queen’s hand high up, showing of a ring made out of a pale, milky stone. Lord Manderly rose a glass high up.

 

“To Their Graces, The King in the North and the future Queen in the North, Daenerys! To The Queen and King of the Seven Kingdoms and to their future son, the first King on the throne of all Seven Kingdoms with Stark blood!” He proclaimed, earning roars from the room. It took three hundred years, but there would be one. The one that had been promised for so very long.

 

“The King and Queen!” They shouted. The young couple exchanged knowing looks. This was the begging of their reign. It was fundamental now to ride to Winterfell and confirm their status as future husband and wife. Jon kissed her hand again. Daenerys pulled out a piece of paper.

 

“On this day, I proclaim Jon Snow, natural son of Lord Eddard Stark, Jon Stark, legitimate son of Lord Eddard Stark.” She spoke, the lords shouting in approval. Jon bowed his head to them and the envoy had to leave son. The ride to Winterfell was about three days but they wanted to be there sooner, as they wanted to start working on battle strategies as soon as they can. Her Grace climbed on her white mare and waved the people of White Harbour, who were throwing petals and flowers on the young couple, wishing them a happy wedding. The ride begun and they came to the Kingsroad, about half a day of traveling. Dany’s head was spinning from the journey and she requested them to stop so she can rest a while.

 

As they were setting up the royal tent, Dany felt a surge of nausea climbing in her stomach. She ran into the woods and emptied the content of her belly out in the light snow. She felt Ghost licking at her hand, which meant his master wasn’t faraway. Jon ran to her with a sheepskin of water and told her to drink. She sat down on a stump and tried to calm down her belly which was churning.

 

“Dany, are you alright? Do you want to ride back to White Harbour to see a Maester?”

 

“No, no need for it. I’m a little queasy from the journey.”

 

Not even when she was a little child starving in the streets of the Free Cities, freezing and begging to survive, she did not get sick, even once. She only got sick when she carried Rhaego, but that was a lifetime ago. It was impossible for her to expect a child. She touched the top part of her belly before laying down on the cold, hard ground. The cold soothed her for a while and she got up with Jon, Ghost licking her hand as she walked. He stopped to nuzzle her belly and she kissed his snout.

 

“Eat something sweet to wash out the horrible taste out of your mouth, my love.” He was rubbing the small of her back and holding her hand as they walked back to the tent. Jon took of her coat and laid her down. Soon, advisors swarmed the temporary home, Missandei of Naath knelt in front of her Queen, fingers grazing her visage. They whispered something in Valyrian and Missandei cracked open a wooden box with various potions and took out a bottle with purple liquid.

 

“Violet water, to soothe Her Grace’s stomach.”

 

She gave a spoonful to Daenerys and covered her with another layer of fur. Tyrion looked paler than Dany’s hair, breathing heavily, suspecting everything, from a flu to the scarlet fever itself. He muttered something quietly to Ser Davos and Ser Jorah before returning to Her Grace who was lying abed, eyes closed. Tyrion gently touched Dany’s hand.

 

“Are you ill?” He asked, concern washing over his face. His eyes were brimming with tears, praying she didn’t catch illnesses that were common to war. She gave him a faint smile.

 

“I’m alright. Just a little queasy. I ate quite a bit before we rode so it could have resulted in me throwing up.”

Tyrion nodded. “I was concerned you might be ill, Your Grace. With war and famine, disease always follows.”

 

She nodded. “I could use some rest, Lord Hand. Just a little sleep and that’s it.”

 

Tyrion nodded, before glancing at Jon who was sitting by her bunk. Jon told him he’d stay the night, watching over her, to ensure she’s healthy and well. In the morning, when Missandei came, she found their King sitting on the bunk, Her Graces’ head on his chest, both soundly asleep. He had one arm thrown around her body, breathing in sync. She left the tent, letting them sleep for a while.

 

Winterfell was roaming with servants, chambermaids and cooks, preparing for the arrival of Their Graces and their envoys. Sansa ran around like a headless chicken, preparing the banners and accommodations for the amount of people Winterfell was about to house. The necessary nourishment from the Reach was already there, grain and livestock were available for the troops to be fed. She commanded her sister to dress properly for once, which Arya refused by climbing on the bookshelves and hissing on her the entire time while Lord Baratheon was laughing. Sansa was slightly uneasy by their familiarity and kinship, they acted as if they’ve known each other for centuries. Sansa watched them take strolls early in the morning and fight with the children every afternoon. Arya would spent a lot of time in the forge with him and they’d converse late until the hour of the owl, when the castle was asleep. Back upstairs, Brandon and Arya were interrogating Barbrey Dustin. Lady Dustin was a mousey woman, with light brown hair, wrath in her eyes and general dislike for the Starks.

 

“What was your relation to our Uncle Brandon?” His namesake spoke.

 

Her face became even wearier. “I loved him, but he didn’t have it in himself to love me back.”

 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Arya asked, ready to pull out everything she learned.

 

“All I ever wanted is to be a Stark. Brandon promise me that for my… And then he left to marry your mother. But, noble Brandon died and all fell on silent Eddard, who probably had plans on his own for marriage. All because Brandon couldn’t keep his cock in his pants and kept promising random girls marriage if they laid with him.”

 

“And?” Asked Arya. She only knew of her family to value honour over everything.

 

“And then Lord Rickard put his foot down and made him unavailable for marriage. He was quite angry that his little trick didn’t work out. Sadly, he died soon after.”

 

“How do we know you aren’t lying?”

 

“What do I have to gain? My soul has weathered far worse that you all did.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “And did he promise marriage to someone he wasn’t supposed to?”

 

“I’ve heard rumours about this Dornish girl and a Stark, but ice rarely comes near fire. It’ll melt.”

 

Arya and Bran exchanged looks. They learned nothing. When Lady Dustin left, Bran explained the limits and the lack of understanding he has for his greenseeing.

 

“I’d need an entire century to learn my powers, Arya.”

 

“We have a year. To figure out what is the Night King after.”

 

“Whenever I try, I only see snow. I tried to find Jon’s mother, too.”

 

“And?” Asked Arya with a glimmer of hope.

 

“I don’t know for what I’m looking for. There were many rumours, raging from a fisherman’s daughter to a nursemaid.”

 

“What about the Dornish girl and a Stark?”

 

“Didn’t Aunt Lyanna die in Dorne? Perhaps, she knew Jon’s mother. But then again… I remember the Old Raven telling me that Jon has more First Men blood than we do.”

 

“But there are no First Men in Dorne. Only Rhoynar and some Andals.”

“Why did Father had to take that one to his grave?” Bran said, shaking his head.

 

Sansa wondered had her little sister fallen in love with the last Baratheon. They certainly had a close relationship and her eyes sparkled whenever they talked. Arya’s response to Sansa’s intrusive question was that it was none of Sansa’s business, while Bran just shrugged it off and called it Arya’s privacy and Sansa had to let it go. She watched the Stark banners rising high on the northern wall, which meant The King was home. And that, he certainly was. She watched two figures ride in, one white as snow and the other as black as coal, followed by the screech of three powerful dragons. Arya’s mouth was on the floor as she watched the mighty beasts fly high above the castle, singing a song of welcome. She watched the young pair dismount. Her brother was first, he shook off the snow from his shoulders and then he walked past his horse and helped Her Grace dismount. Sansa frowned when her brother touched her waist a bit too low. He offered her an arm and they walked to the courtyard. Sansa, Arya and the rest of the Lords and Ladies bowed. Gendry watched from afar, noticing the undeniable closeness between them. The pair walked arm in arm to the representatives of lords and ladies and Jon walked to Sansa first, who curtsied to the pair.


“Your Grace, this is my sister, Princess Sansa Stark. Sansa, this is my betrothed, Queen Daenerys.”

 

Sansa’s eyes were wide open now, face pale. So this is how the North loses its independence. Through her brother’s cock. Jon hugged Bran and continued the introductions. But the biggest and tightest hug was reserved for Arya, who clung onto Jon like a monkey.

 

“I’ve missed you, big brother.” Cried Arya, trying not to make chocking sounds.

 

Jon finally let go and introduced Daenerys. Arya looked her up and down, The Queen’s face an emotionless façade.

 

“Valar Morghulis.” She spoke, coldly at first. Daenerys touched Dark Sister on her hip, looking Arya directly in the eyes.

 

“Valar Doaheris.”

 

Arya gave her a bright smile and shook her hand. She observed the sword on Her Grace’s hip and pointed her finger towards it.

 

“Is this what I think it is?”

 

Daenerys unsheathed the sword from its leather, the beautiful Valyrian steel shining in the winter sun.

 

“Dark Sister.”

 

“Queen Visenya’s actual blade…” Arya watched it in awe. Daenerys offered her to see the sword but Arya declined, saying she wants to see The Queen using it first. Dany accepted the challenge and Jon was pleased with how Arya took to his future wife. Sansa needed some warming up, but Bran kept looking at Daenerys with great interest.

 

“I want to pay my respects.” Jon said, offering Dany an arm again.

 

“You’ve just arrived, rest first.” Sansa spoke. Jon shook his head and his fiancée followed him to the crypts. Sansa watched the two figures disappear between the shadows of the crypts, the dragons finally stopped roaring and settled on a meadow behind Winterfell. Arya wanted to see them badly, but she had to wait for their mother to return.

 

Tyrion Lannister came out of his carriage, his brother riding right behind him. This was all too reminiscent for Sansa, remembering the last time her family was at peace. Before King Robert arrived with his wench of a wife and her bastards. Before Father lost his head and Mother and Robb were killed at the Twins. It felt like another lifetime. She greeted the Lannisters with iciness in her voice. Tyrion smiled at her.

 

“I don’t think we deserve better, to be fair.”

 

“No, no you don’t. Bran, look, it’s Ser Jaime Lannister.”

 

Jaime, eyes filled with horror, turned to Bran who was watching him coldly. The Starks were truly made out of ice.

 

“I’ve missed you, Ser Jaime.”

 

Tyrion was about to go full panic mode when Ser Davos intercepted.

 

“What does a man have to do to get warm broth here?”

 

Sansa inhaled deeply and signalled them to enter the Keep. She felt this shall be one long, unforgettable year.

 

 

Dinner was served and Their Graces sat at the head table, Arya sitting on Jon’s right and Tyrion o Dany’s right. The Queen was eating little, as she still felt ill. She kept puking during the entire trip north, causing a lot of panic in her council. Tyrion observed the room. Jaime sat at the head of the table reserved for the Western lords, he looked bored beyond his mind. Prince Bran was giving him a stern look, nothing undeserving. Princess Sansa, on the other hand, was drinking her tea slowly and looking at the couple with suspicion in her eyes. Tyrion gulped, praying she hasn’t figured out the nature of their relationship just yet. To be fair, the two little lovebirds weren’t really helping themselves, sitting next to each other closely and giggling like two lovesick fools. Tyrion wanted to slap them and tell them to behave, but the soft look on Ser Davos’ face told him to cherish the gift they have been given. Another sight was Sandor Clegane, who was chewing on a large slab of meat on the Western table. The Dornish weren’t too fond of Winterfell, but alas, they were trying. Tyrion excused himself and waddled over to Jaime’s table.

 

“Remember what I told you about Sansa Stark?”

 

“The one that is trying to kill me with her eyes right now?”

 

“She’s… getting used to you.”

 

“Used to me? More like plotting how to murder me! Have you heard they’ve finally rid the world of Littlefinger?”

 

“I’ve heard. But, you know even this war will end eventually. And our dear deceased cunt of a Lord Father always planned ahead, always thinking about the future of the family. Cersei is gone, her children perished a long time ago. From all I’ve heard, the Starks will wed Southern again, Jon is wedding our Queen and Arya will probably marry that Baratheon that is drooling over her by the table there. Sansa, Ned’s older daughter is left. You need a wife and we need to make peace with the Starks. This s how it’s done. Otherwise, we’d be left at an impasse.”

 

“Very well, I’ll talk with her. And her brother.”

 

“Thank you for listening to me.”

 

Tyrion turned to the table when he saw The King rise, cheeks red from the wine and ale.

 

“Where is the bard? Find our bard!”

 

Someone pushed a tall, dark haired man who bowed his head, fear in his eyes.

 

“What is your name?” Asked Jon.

 

“Ramin, my King. I’m a simple bard.”

 

“Well, play us a song, Bard Ramin.” Jon smiled.

 

“Do you have a special request, Your Grace?”

 

“Jenny of Oldstones, please.”

 

The Bard nodded and went to play the song. Night fell upon Winterfell, everyone was already tired and groggy from the long day. Gendry walked Arya back to her solar, both giggling and singing from the feast. Gendry was opening doors for her, and when they finally reached her bedchamber, he opened it, standing beside it. Arya turned to him, leaning on the doorway.

 

“Good night, Arya.”

 

“Don’t you want to stay?” She asked, batting her eyelashes. He rose an eyebrow, slightly confused at first, but then he nodded and went inside the room with her. Arya laid down on the bed, kicking her boots off. She looked at the grey tapestry with wolves and showed it to Gendry.

 

“This was my Aunt Lyanna’s bedchamber. She slept in this very same bed.”

 

“And someday, your daughter might sleep in this bed.”

 

Arya shook her head.

 

“This castle will either go to Bran’s or Jon’s children, maybe even Sansa’s.”

 

“I’m finding it hard to understand why girls never inherit anything.”

“Because they’re expected to be married off and take their husbands name and lands… Hell, that happened to Argella Durrandon too.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Your ancestress. The one that gave House Baratheon the banner of a black stag riding on a golden field. Whose words were “Ours is the fury”, the daughter of the last Storm King.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

Arya told him the entire tale of the conquest, from start to finish, but she mainly focused on Orys and Argella and their relationship. Gendry was fascinated that Storm’s End was built by Bran the Builder too and bugged Arya about everything.

 

“They say her seed was so strong that her children were black of hair and blue of eyes, just as she was. And their children after them. That’s how people figured out that Robert’s children weren’t his. They all had golden heads.”

 

“Seven Hells… So my father left to legitimate issue?”

 

“No, not that is known of. Cersei had been his only wife, but the entire realm knew, his lady love was buried here, in the crypts. Father rarely spoke of her.”

 

“All for love, huh?”

 

“All for love.”

 

They looked at each other, confused for a while. Arya scooted over and patted the empty spot on her bed. Gendry laid down next to her and offered her an arm.

 

“You have to teach me history. And science.”

 

“Why do you keep insisting I become a Maester?”

 

Gendry laughed and kissed her head. “I know how to read. Can you give me some books?”

 

“Of course. Where did you learn to read?”

 

“Back, when I my mother was still alive, she asked the innkeeper from her old workplace to teach me how to read. She knew I was a King’s son and I suppose, she wanted me to have somewhat of an education. Although, I must admit, my handwriting is shit.”

 

“Mine too. My stitching? Atrocious. Septa Mordane used to get headaches from attempting to teach me how to saw. Sansa, on the other hand, can saw ten dresses in a day.”

 

“But can Sansa wield a sword?”

 

“No.”

 

“See? Wait, you had a Septa and a Maester growing up?”

 

“All highborn children do. It had been a wild education. Bran was the best student, Sansa cried over love stories, Robb and Jon worshiped Daeron II, and I wanted to be like Visenya. Rickon wasn’t even old enough to begin his before…”

 

“Before everything. How did your mother treat Jon?”

 

“She hated him with every fibre of her being. And then he got sick and she nursed him back to health. I had been an odd experience. Father never spoke of Jon’s mother, whoever she was.”

 

“She must have been a pretty one, because Jon looks like a girl.”

 

Arya burst out laughing. “We put him in a dress once and he truly did look like a lady. Jon looks more of a Stark than my other siblings do. He has the long, solemn face, grey eyes but his hair is a bit darker. And curlier. There are no curly haired Starks, as I remember.”

 

“Perhaps he got that from his mother.”

 

“And from the men in my family, the disability to keep his cock in his pants.”

 

“Seven Hells Arya!”

 

“What? Can you blame him? If I was a man, I’d take her too.”

 

Gendry chuckled, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

Daenerys was attempting to spread a map of the North, but the damned thing didn’t want to stay put. Frowning, she pulled out various little pieces of stone and started placing it at the corners of the ancient map. Huffing, she got on the table and finally smoothed the map out. Sometimes, being her height had its disadvantages. She opened the windows too, letting fresh air and cold in. It was the first day of battle planning and deciding about scouting the area for the army and their leader. She rose early, bathed and broke fast, due her illness she wasn’t able to sleep very much, so she decided to make herself useful. As she stood on the table, right above a valley that the White Knife made, she heard the door creaking open. There stood Jon’s favourite sibling, Arya, chewing loudly a piece of buttered bread. She downed it with a mug of warm milk and burped. Dany chuckled.

 

“Was the meal good?”

 

“You can bet!” She observed Daenerys.

 

“Why are you standing on the table?”

 

“Because I am petite and the map didn’t want to roll out properly.”

 

Arya nodded. “I understand your struggle, Your Grace.”

 

“Daenerys. I am to wed your brother, no need for such formalities.” She jumped off the table and took a seat on the large leather chair. Arya took a seat right across her, watching The Queen play with fire.

 

“What are your intentions towards my brother?”

 

“To marry him and rebuild the realm.”

 

“I know you two are lovers.”

 

“Oh. And how, if you don’t mind telling me?”

 

“He looks at you as if you aren’t even real. It’s incredible actually that not many people have picked it up. But you two look at each other as if you’re ready to tear off each other’s clothes.”

“I have no intentions of deceiving you, Princess Arya. I love him and I’d like to believe he feels the same. I hope that our union can bring peace to the realm. And I think he’s pretty.” Dany spoke, pursing her lips. Arya was mesmerized by the way her fingers played with fire. Daenerys gave her an odd look.

 

“Tell me, do you know of the Faceless Men?”

 

Arya’s eyes turned sorrowful. “Why are you asking?”

 

“I’ve heard what happened to House Frey.”

 

“They got what they deserved.”

 

“And I can’t help but agree with you. Justice is what we make it, I suppose. But, I must ask you, never to use your talents unless absolutely necessary. I know the price you pay whenever you wear someone’s face. For your family’s sanity and your own.”

 

“I know. I burned them after I came home.”

 

“The Many-Faced God has been promised too many names. How did you promise him House Frey?”

 

“I made a servant boy do it.”

 

“Smart. Bending the rules.”

 

“Do you want to promise the Many-Faced God a name, Daenerys Stormborn?”

 

“No.” She declined. “My own has been promised a few times.”

 

“How did you escape it?”

“People died in my stead.” She spat.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“As I am sorry for what happened to House Stark.”

 

“Your family got erased too.”

 

“Mostly at their own fault… Except for my mother, she died birthing me.”

 

Arya gave her a sad look. “You never knew her?”

 

“Ser Jaime told me I look a lot like her, but no.”

 

“I didn’t pay enough attention to mine when she was alive… I was jealous of her relationship with Sansa. And little Rickon… I failed him. I didn’t protect my little brother. Robb, my oldest brother… I dream of him and Jon often, back when we were children.”

“Jon said something very similar.” She spoke, holding Arya’s hand. “Since I came to Westeros, Jenny’s Song had been playing in my mind. Bard Ramin played it for us last night and I keep thinking about the ones who were lost, but I rarely think of the ones who were found. Perhaps, they become the ones who had loved us the most.”

 

“Perhaps, that is the way we’ll survive this war.”

 

Daenerys made a pause, observing the map and Last Hearth. She turned to Arya.

 

“I have to feed my dragons soon, mind joining me?” She asked, giving her a warm look.

 

“I’d love nothing more, Daenerys.”

 

Dany nodded and then the rest of the council walked in. Tyrion and Greyworm, with the support of Ser Jorah, started laying out the battle plans. Ser Jaime and Jon intercepted many suggestions, as some of them didn’t fit the terrain they were fighting on. Lord Glover and Karstark came too, almost late for the planning. The men fought about the plans until Daenerys finally spoke.

 

“You are forgetting we have three dragons that can kill thousands of them at once. Let me deliver the blow from behind. Take them by surprise and let them lose “men” where they least expect it. And pour hot oil from the walls. I don’t think it’s wise to attack them beyond the Wall, where their magic is the strongest. Winter fell here once, let it fall again.”

 

“Your Grace, with all due respect, I think you and your dragons should deliver the first blow.” Said Glover. “You are a woman, I imagine war is something foreign to you.”

 

Daenerys gave him the sweetest smile Jon had ever seen. He gulped.

 

“I am but a girl, inexperienced with the art of warfare. Tell me, if we pour hot oil on the wights, what will happen when my sons light it on fire?”

 

“Winterfell will burn.” Tyrion spoke.

 

“Mhysa conquered the Bay of Dragons while you were hiding from House Stark for not supporting them in the Battle of the Bastards.” Greyworm spat.

 

“There is a reason why they call her Aegon come again.” Jorah spoke with pride. “She sacked cities when you were knitting by the fire.”

 

Lady Mormont gave Daenerys a proud look. “I agree with The Queen. She is right.”

 

“I’ll tear them from the back, layer by layer. We need to keep them in one formation, if they split, they’ll cover us like ants honey, from what Jon had told me.” She got up, head spinning. Jon noticed and offered her an arm, which she took.

 

“I think we should pour enough hot oil to make it impossible for them to climb the walls. And we need a fire ring around Winterfell.” Jon said, pointing at the map.

 

“And what of the Night King?” Asked Tyrion.

 

Jon turned to Bran, to ask him, when he saw his brother’s eyes white as snow. Bran was roaming the halls of some castle he had never seen, but yet, he swore he was familiar with it. It looked like it was carved out of a whole mountain, the walls as smooth as glass, black like dragonglass. It was quite warm in there and he hear voices talking in the other room. He peeked through the door and nearly fainted.

 

There were intricate dragon carvings all over the room. This must have been Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen. There stood an older man, about his father’s age, clad in fine, purple clothing. In front of him was a young woman who resembled Daenerys Targaryen a lot, but her features were more childish and she was a little taller. She was telling the man about her sleeping issues, when she turned her head and looked directly at Bran.

 

“Father, may we speak later?”

 

“Of course.”

 

She walked over to Bran and took his hand. Shaking, he let the woman drag him out of what looked like a throne room on a balcony. There, he saw the sandy beaches of an island and lush green lands on the shore across. He saw a black banner with a strange symbol flying on the top of the castle. The woman gave him a serious look.

 

“Are you aware of what you’re doing?”

 

“Who are you?” He asked, still afraid how she saw him. “How can you see me?”

 

“Let’s just say, our abilities are quite alike. Do you know where you are, Brandon Stark?”

 

“Dragonstone?”

 

“Yes. Valyria has fallen a year ago.”

 

“Which means… You’re Daenys Targaryen. Daenys the Dreamer. You also were the first Three-Eyed-Raven.” He said, not believing the sight in front of his eyes. She wore a bright red robe with stars embroidered on it and she was holding a book.

 

“Yes. I know why you’re here.”

 

“I need answers about…”

 

“The Night King. The reason why we came to these shores. To save this land.”

 

“What?”

 

“I dreamt of him, Brandon Stark. Of the doom, yes, but he was what actually scared me.”

 

“What does he want?” Bran begged.

 

“Vengeance.” Daenys answered. “The Prince is born from my blood, are you aware of that?”

 

“Yes. He’s coming.” Bran answered. “Why does he want vengeance? Against the Children?”

 

“No, Brandon Stark, no. Have you seen the marks he leaves behind?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“They’re the mark of the ones who have created him. And he will bring them vengeance.”

 

“For what?” Bran begged.

 

There was a strange sound, thunder falling from the sky. The dragons were roaring. Daenys looked up.

 

“Go home, Brandon. They need you there. Ask the First King of Winter.” She answered, before a wind swept Brandon of the shores of Dragonstone. Bran woke up, his chair shaking. Jon touched his forehead, giving him a serious look.

 

“Bran, do you need help?”

 

“I need to find someone.”

 

 

Followed by Jon and Arya, Dany walked to her sons, carrying a large bucket full of meat. She threw chunks into the sky, her sons burning them and devouring them. Arya asked many questions and Dany walked over to the pile of hay someone considerate left. She saw something shining there, so she ducked and dug out three dragon eggs. Gasping, she turned around. One was silver and white, the other burgundy with rosy specks and the last one was a Stark grey with dark dots on it. She turned around to Jon and Arya.

 

“Look!”

 

“Seven Hells!” Shouted the Starks, staring at the eggs. They were quite warm, Dany felt the silver was ready to hatch. She turned to Viserion.

 

“These are yours, aren’t they? That explains why you were so moody lately.” She kissed the white and gold snout and put the eggs down.

 

“I need to hatch them. If we have seven or six moons, they might be large enough to defend the castle.”

 

“How do you hatch them? Do you need to chant or perform some blood ritual?” Asked Jon.

 

“No, I just need to put them in the fire.”

 

“Oh.” Arya responded. “When will you hatch them?”

 

“I’d say the silver one is ready to hatch, but the burgundy and grey ones need more time. Don’t worry, Viserion, I’ll take care of them. You’ll meet them soon.”

 

She pranced over to the castle, Jon and Arya following her. Arya could swear she was singing. Dany entered her chamber, where Missandei was handling her correspondence. She saw the eggs and dropped a pen when Dany casually dunked them in the fire. Dany took of her coat and dropped into the leather chair by the fire.

Arya observed the fire dancing around the eggs. She saw a crack on the silver one and her mouth dropped when Dany just pulled it out and held it in her hands. Jon looked amazed.

 

“Mother of Dragons…” He whispered.

 

“Wait…” She said, looking at a small silver claw coming out of the eggshell. Smiling, she opened it and a small silver dragon, no larger than a cat, climbed her arm and leaned on Dany’s chest.

 

“No, my sweet, I don’t have any breast milk.” She whispered, remembering how she breastfed her first three dragons. The little thing kept biting at her until she finally exposed a breast and somehow, there was milk. Confused, she looked at the little thing eat and then it climbed her shoulder, sniffing her hair.

 

“Aellyx.” She spoke. The silver hatchling danced around her shoulders, before settling in her lap finally. It made adorable squeaking sounds. It has quite little, but she knew, if it grows like her other sons, he shall be a fury in his own right. Dany gave Jon a sad look.

 

“Now I have four dragons, but there is only me to ride one…”

Jon gave her a sad look. He stared at the silver hatchling licking Dany’s belly and she chuckled. She turned to Missandei.

 

“What say you?”

 

“I cannot believe what I’ve just seen… Were your other sons so small?”

 

“I think, yes. It was a while ago. Hello, little one.”

 

He made another squeaky sound before tumbling into her lap and falling asleep. Dany put him on her bed, the little creature snuggled against her pillow. She was, after all, the Mother of Dragons. The only children she was destined to have. Jon came closer, offering a hand to the little thing, but it woke and huffed out smoke. Dany shook her head and took Aellyx away.

 

“Imagine if he was as large as the three dragons outside.”

“I’d be cooked meat.”

 

“Exactly. Never approach them without me. They’re quite bright, my children.”

 

“How they know if someone can ride them?” Asked Arya, concern dripping from her voice.

 

“Fire and blood. They feel our blood, the blood of the last dragon riders.” Dany spoke, kissing his little head and covering him with a blanket.

 

“Do you want supper?” Missandei asked. Dany shook her head.

 

“I’m still quite queasy. I’ll take a bath and go to bed.” She turned to Jon and Arya. “You two are hungry?”

 

They nodded. “I’ll be back soon.” Jon said.

 

A bath had been drawn and Dany was taking off her clothes to prepare for the steaming water. Soft lavender oils filled the room and Dany approached her tub, dipping her feet into it. The steam filled the room, leaving Missandei’s forehead damp. She heard a knock on the door and shouted “Enter!” before turning to The Queen who was sitting by the edge of the bathtub. Dany smiled at the, sweet, young woman with dark brown hair. She had a kind face and was holding a book.

 

“Your Grace, my name is Gilly. I’m here to bring you a gift from the Wall.”

 

“Thank you, Lady Gilly.” Dany said, gesturing the table by the hearth. Baby Aellyx was awoken by someone’s presence and the little thing jingled towards Gilly. In awe, she watched the hatching fly across the room and fly down by the edge of the wooden tub. Gilly observed the nude woman. She stood there, calmly, about to jump into the steaming water, when Gilly noticed the sweet little swell of her belly. Curious, she came closer.

 

“I wasn’t made aware you’re expecting, Your Grace.”

 

“Expecting what?”

“A child?” Gilly said, pointing the curve of her belly. “The belly is quite low, so you haven’t gained weight. It’s from your womb swelling. It was similar to me.”

 

Dany slipped into the water. “I can’t have children.”

 

“Is the belly hard?” Gilly asked. She saw Daenerys move her hand underwater and touch. Her face told her what she already knew.

 

“It is hard.”

 

“Your blood? Have you been ill lately?”

 

“Yes.” Dany spoke without a breath.

 

“Breast tender?”

 

She nodded again, closing her eyes.

 

Missandei sat by the edge of the tub. “Should we get a midwife to confirm it?”

 

“Perhaps… Not.” Dany wept. Her dreams were coming true. The Seven Kingdoms at her fingertips, a man she loves and a child she bears, but the Night King threatening that. Now there was one more reason to fight for.  Touching her belly, she cried and shook, her pain churning out of her. Missandei hugged her and wept into her hair too.

 

“This child will be mine as much as it will be yours.” Dany spoke. “I am Queen, but remember what you told me?”

 

“Mother to us all…” Missandei nodded, still crying. “And now you’ll have your own blood.”

 

“What if I die?”

 

“I doubt it that King Jon will let you.” She wiped a tear again. “Shall I fetch him?”

“I’ll find him.” She got out of the tub and dressed quickly. Dany wanted to run, but she couldn’t feel where Jon was. She saw Ghost sitting by her door, as if he was waiting. Dany ran with the direwolf, searching for Jon.

 

“Jon!” She shouted. “Jon!” It felt like walking into a fever dream. Finally, Ghost led her to the crypts, where Jon stood, observing the face of his late father. When he saw Dany he smiled, offering her an arm. Instead, she took it and placed in on her belly, silently. Jon stood for a while, taking it all in.

 

“You’re pregnant?” He whispered.

 

“Yes…” She said, voice laced with joy. Jon grabbed her and spun her around, leaving kisses all over her face.

 

“We’re going to be parents…” Jon cried and cried, holding her tightly. He turned to the silent statue of Ned Stark. “Father, I shall be a father too!” Jon believed the statue approved, no matter how silent it was. He paced toward Dany.

 

“I want to shout it from the tops of the Red Keep.”

 

“We’ll tell your family and my advisors first.”

 

“Daenerys Stormborn.” He said, taking her hand. “You and the child you’ll bear are now the main reason I want to see the Night King and his army gone from this world. I swear it upon everything I have, we will destroy him.”

 

“Together. We’ll destroy him together.” Daenerys spoke. “And then we’ll raise our family.”

 

Jon took her hand and they left the crypts, followed by Ghost. He seemed excited too, licking Jon’s palm. Jon knelt to pet him and he nuzzled against Dany’s stomach, making them both smile.

 

“My boy is as joyful as we are. Come along, Ghost.”

 

Dany felt snow on her face, as if the North was celebrating with them. Soon, her advisors and Jon’s siblings were gathered around the hearth in the Great Hall, which was empty. Jon and Dany were muttering something between them before turning to their family of sorts.

 

“We have an important announcement to make.” Jon spoke. Daenerys stood by his side, beaming. Bran smiled. He knew, but decided to stay silent.

 

“I’m with child.” Dany spoke, touching her belly. Everyone practically jumped out of their seats, Arya clapping in excitement, Sansa gobsmacked, holding on to her chair, Bran smiling widely. Tyrion dropped his goblet, the wine spilling over the floor, Ser Jaime just stood there, clearly confused, Gendry was shouting, Greyworm remained stoic as always but his face bore a little smile. Ser Jorah was smiling too, but there was some sadness in him. Dany saw tears welling up in his eyes and took his hand.

 

“I imagine my child will have great surrogate uncles. And two amazing aunts.”

 

Arya pulled out Needle. “Anyone tries to harm my niece or nephew shall taste my steel.”

 

“And mine too!” Gendry said.

 

“I suppose I shall send a raven to Varys and tell him the issue of the succession is resolved. Your child will be Prince or Princess of Dragonstone once they’re born.”

“And heir to all Seven Kingdoms.” Bran spoke. “The Prince That Was Promised.” He said. “Daenys told me of him.”

 

Dany shook her head in confusion. “Of him? Daenys, as in my ancestor, Daenys the Dreamer?”

 

“She spoke of your son, Daenerys. She was the original Three-Eyed-Raven.”

 

“I’m having a boy?”

 

“I suppose.”

“And what did she tell you, Bran?”

“To ask the first King of Winter.”

 

“Your namesake.” Tyrion spoke. “Bran the Builder.”

“I tried to reach him in my visions, but he is impossible to find.”

 

“Perhaps she meant to ask him here.” Jon spoke. “Bran the Builder is buried somewhere in the crypts.”

 

“Seven Hells. The first Stark ever buried somewhere down there? It will take ages to find him on foot.” Tyrion said.

 

“I can fly.” Bran responded. “Thanks to Ser Jaime. I’ll warg a bird and scout the crypts for his grave, if it still exists.”

 

Bran scouted and found a raven flying around Winterfell. He warged it quickly and flew into the crypts, past his father, mother, brothers and aunt. Bran flew and flew, past Jonnel Stark, past Torren, past King Jon and many kings named Brandon or Rickard. Then, finally, he saw it. The oldest statute in the crypts, the one that belonged to Bran the Builder. Bran flew to its head, which was covered by dust and cobwebs. Brandon Stark, the first one, actually, stood proud and high, holding a stone sword. His chin was high up, but by his feet were a mason’s tools. Bran looked around his feet, flying around the statue. And right there, on the part of the statute that was facing north, was a carving of sorts. A spiral symbol, which was quite familiar to Bran. It was a warning of sorts. Bran saw other symbols around it and a drawing that resembled the Children of the Forest. Bran poked it with his beak and flew back to the window where his family was. He tapped and Daenerys opened it, letting him in. There, he saw his other body and flew to the table, where parchment and ink were. Jon realised what the crow wanted and took a piece and placed it on the book, throwing it onto Bran’s lap. He gave him a quill too and Bran’s hand started writing something down. The crow flew through the window and Bran’s eyes became their normal colour again.

 

Jon approached him, looking at the symbols Bran drew. They looked like the cave on Dragonstone and the symbols the Night King used to leave behind. He was confused what they were, so he asked Bran, who warged again and his eyes turned white.

 

Bran stood on the stairs of Dragonstone, watching Daenys the Dreamer come to him. He showed her the paper and she looked quite pleased. There was a sadness in her eyes, but nonetheless, she turned her head to him and sat down on the stairs. Bran followed her lead and watched.

 

“Good job, Brandon Stark. These are the runes of the Children. This is how they used to write and communicate. Brandon left a message in their writing, so that they are warned too.”

 

“What does it say, Lady Daenys?”

 

“You see this large, spiral like thing? It means death in their language. This heir symbol of death. And this here, says. “Night gathers, her King comes. The King is a pawn, the true threat are his puppeteers. Children, I blame you for what you’ve brought upon this world, for I am not certain if we can defeat it. The blood is on your hands more than it is on ours.” Tell me, Brandon Stark, what did the First Men do to the Children?”

 

“They nearly erased them.”

 

“And what does that mean?”

 

“They created the Night King to take vengeance upon the First Men who cut down their forests and took away their homes… But they must have lost control over him.”

 

“They promised the Night King freedom if he gives them their home back.”

 

“Seven Hells.” Bran said. “Now we’re the bad guys.”

 

“You’re defending your home. As they did with theirs.”

 

“But the Children are gone in my time.”

“Does he know it?”

 

“Probably not. Thank you, Lady Daenys. I wasn’t aware that House Targaryen had warging powers.”

 

“We don’t. You’re the first Three-Eyes-Raven to do so, which gives you a great advantage. Is the Prince alright?”

 

“He’s coming, Lady Daenys. They know now.”

 

“Protect him at all cost.”

 

“Where did you learn to read their language?” Bran asked.

 

“The ones that lived on Dragonstone taught me.”

 

“Oh. Thank you.”

 

“You know how he was created and you know how to destroy him.”

 

“Don’t worry, we will.”

Chapter Text

 

Moons passed, Dany watched her bump grow until it was impossible to conceal. She knew, it was time to tell the world because it was impossible for her and Jon to wed until the war is over. Daenerys felt her son kick every day, as if he couldn’t wait to escape her womb and conquer the world. This morning, she guided Jon’s hand down her belly so he felt the little flutters of their child, announcing he was there. Before the lords arrived, they were quietly discussing baby names. Obviously, as Bran told them they’re having a boy, they were only considering male names. Jon suggested some traditional Targaryen names, but Dany told him she’d be happy with a Stark name too.

 

“Perhaps, Aegon.” Jon suggested.

 

“My brother had a son named Aegon. And there were five of them on the throne. It’s bland at this point.”

 

Jon chuckled. “Just don’t name him Aerys or Viserys and I think we’re safe.”

 

“I’d never…” She hummed. “I wouldn’t mind naming him after your father. The one that protected me back when I was a young girl in the Dothraki Sea.”

 

“I still think you deserve to honour your family. Because you’re its only member now. I have living siblings and there are Starks. But you’re the only Targaryen in this world.”

She nodded, thanking him quietly. The lords were gathering in the Grand Hall, shouting and hissing at each other. Daenerys watched them fight like little children, shaking her hand. Missandei gave her a smirk and Queen Daenerys got up, clapping her hands.

 

“My Lords Spiritual and Temporal, please, do sit down. We have an important announcement to make.”

 

Jon got up and clasped his hands together. “Her Grace is expecting, six moons along.”

 

And then the shouts became louder than before. Ranging from congratulations to reminders that they aren’t married, until Lord Tyrion stepped in. He carried a piece of parchment with two distinctive seals, the dragon and the wold in red and blue wax. Jon shot Dany a confused look.

 

“I have to beg you for forgiveness my lords, because Their Graces married each other in secret on Dragonstone, in their Goodswood, to seal the alliance quicker. We decided to keep it secret in the case of someone’s death or seduction rumours, but now we are forced to reveal it. As you see, the document bears both original seals and signatures of the couple and witnesses. Ser Davos Seaworth and I witnessed the secret ceremony and Ser Clegane and we witnessed the consummation, which as you can see, happened.”

 

Dany opened and closed her mouth quickly, realising they forged a marriage document to save her son’s status before birth. The lords gave each other strange looks before clapping erupted in the hall like thunder. Lord Westerling got up, clapping and shouting.

 

“Bless Their Graces and the future Prince!”

 

Barbrey Dustin watched from afar, feeling Arya Stark’s eyes on her back. “She’d better have a boy if she doesn’t want those sons of bitches harassing her.” She spat.

 

Arya nodded. “And if she has a girl?”

 

“The old men won’t have it. Perhaps even force Snow to annul it.”

 

“He is a Stark now. He’s always been one.”

 

“He is a bastard.”

 

“Careful, lady.”

 

“Their child is almost, but how convenient that their advisors witnessed a secret marriage.”

 

“Have you ever met Sandor Clegane?”

 

“I never had the pleasure.”

 

Arya shook her head and left to join her family. Before coming to the family table, she walked over to Sandor Clegane and sat at his table. She observed him, up and down.

 

“So you were a wedding witness.”

 

“I listened to them fucking. They were louder than dogs in heat.”

 

“Seven hells, I did not need to hear that!” Arya shouted, covering her ears.

 

“And I had to listen to it for a moon and a half on a teeny little ship. No shit she’s pregnant. With the amount of the fucking they were doing, she should have triplets.”

 

“Enough! Enough!”

 

“Since when are you so squeamish, you cold little bitch? I saw you and Robert’s bastard running around in the stables!”

 

“Ah shut up, Hound! Or else!”

 

“Or else?”

 

“I’ll get Brienne.”

 

“Good one.”

 

Arya stopped now. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

 

“I’m glad for you too. You’re impossible to kill, Stark.”

 

“I know.” She responded. There was peace in her heart. The Hound had his issues, loads of them in fact, but Arya knew he deserved to live a long life for what he’s suffered. She thought that if the Hound can get a redemption, anyone can. Well, except for Cersei Lannister. She’d ask her good-sister for that one’s head in the future. She paced to Gendry’s table, squeezing his hand and whispering to his ear.

“And what now? You’re off the throne now.”

 

“Thank the fucking gods.” Gendry said, raising his ale. Arya took a sip and then joined the Starks. Her brother and his wife stood in front of Sansa and Bran, Daenerys proudly displaying her belly in front of the congregation. Bran thought of the Prince that was to be born, thinking of the future and weight the child carried on his unborn shoulders. Jon and Daenerys left the bickering lords soon, climbing back into their chambers. Dany explained she’s sleepy and wanted to lay down, but there was a knock on the door. Sansa entered, carrying a bundle of diapers.

 

“Guess what I found in the old storage. You two better start practising.”

 

Dany laughed, getting up and staring at the diapers with wolf embroidery. They looked quite knew, so she figured they must have been worn by someone born quite recently.

 

“Where did you find them?”

 

“They belonged to… Rickon. They were his, before, you know.” She said quietly. Jon thanked her.

 

“I’m making teeny tiny baby clothes for my nephew. Oh, and there is name pool. Ser Bronn and Tyrion are gathering quite a revenue on it.”

 

Dany slapped her forehead. “What is the leading choice?”

 

“Ugh, Aegon, Eddard, Visenya and Rickard.”

 

“Bloody hell, I’m not naming my son Aegon!” Daenerys shouted. Jon laughed a little.

 

“Spread a rumour that we’re naming him Rhaegar, to raise hell.”

 

“If you do that, Robert Baratheon will rise from his grave and claw your eyes out, Jon.”

 

“I know!”

 

“We need a crib, too. Where does one buy a crib in Winterfell?” Dany asked.

 

“I can search for our old crib.” Sansa suggested. “The one that we all slept in, if it still exists. The Boltons have ruined a lot of our old stuff.” Sansa shook her head. “I’d better ask someone to carve it.”

 

“I’ll do it.” Jon suggested.

 

“Have you ever even carved wood?” Dany asked. Sansa turned around and answered for him.

 

“No.”

 

“I can learn. I’ll ask Davos and Tormund when he returns to help me. I want to make it as a gift for my son.”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” She leaned over on the table, thinking about how in the world she will ride a dragon with a large belly when she felt kicks again. She took Sansa’s hand and placed it on her belly. Sansa was confused at first, but when she felt the little touches she nearly jumped up in excitement.

 

“Hello, I’m your Aunt Sansa.” She introduced herself. “Oh, he’s a strong one!”

 

Dany nodded. “We have around three moons until he’s here. Perhaps I should eat another stallion heart.”

 

Jon remembered that story and shook his head when Sansa gave them a confused look. “Is that a tradition I wasn’t aware of?”

 

“Yes, for the Dothraki. A raw stallion heart for the pregnant Khaleesi.”

 

“You ate a stallion heart? Raw?”

 

“It was just as disgusting as you think.”

 

“I guess that is still easier than confinement. I remember when my mother was confined by the end of her pregnancies. Not a fun time.”

 

“If anyone dares to confine me, I’ll put them in front a dragon. That practice is barbaric.”

 

“Agreed. I need to be excused, I want to eat some quick lunch and catch up on some economic issues of ours.”

 

“What issues?” Dany asked.

 

Sansa turned to Jon. “I’m sorry we kept this a secret from you two, but the North had been in terrible debt since grandfather Rickard.”

 

Jon nearly fell over. “How much?”

“We’d need a century to repay it.”

 

“And the debt is forgiven.” Daenerys said. “As Queen of all Seven Kingdoms, I can do that.”

 

Jon was taken back. “Why haven’t you told me?”

 

“Politics and economy were never your forte.”

 

“Does it matter? I needed to know.”

 

“Well, the debt has been forgiven.” Sansa said, shifting from one leg to the other.

 

“Yes, but I had to know.”

 

Sansa shrugged and excused herself and basically ran out of the hallway. As she was about to climb down the stairs, she slipped, but then felt a strong arm grasping her around the waist. She leaned on the man’s chest, feeling secure for a brief moment, but then she snapped out of it and faced Jaime Lannister, who was giving her an apologetic look. She had to admit, he was a handsome one, with his wonderful carved jawline and pretty green eyes. Had he been her peer, perhaps she’d look forward to spending time with him and flirting over a few glasses of wine. Perhaps, in a different world where he hadn’t pushed her brother out a window and fathered children with his twin sister, perhaps in a different world where she wasn’t briefly married to his brother. Sansa jerked off and straightened her dress.

 

“Ser Jaime.”

 

“Princess Sansa.”

 

“What brings you here?”

 

“Lunch, actually. I’m quite hungry.”

 

“Oh.” She never thought of the Kingslayer as “hungry” or human really.

 

“I was about to eat myself.”

 

“Until you nearly tripped over the stairs.”

 

“Yes…”

 

They walked quietly to the small dining room, where Sansa used to have breakfast with her siblings when she was younger, even sulking Jon would join them sometimes. She could almost taste the apples and the cheese and the fresh bread they ate every morning, Arya eating little chunks of dried meat and Robb’s awful herbal tea, and Old Nan chopping food in small bits for Rickon. She recalled the pile of books Bran placed by his side as he ate, Maester Luwin coming in to remind them they were due to have a lesson. But that time was long gone. She glanced at Ser Jaime, who took a seat across her. The cooking lady came out of the kitchens and Sansa requested some apples, cheese and bread. She nodded and glanced at Ser Jaime, who asked for broth and tea.

 

The food came soon and they ate in silence. Sansa noticed he was glancing at her a few times, almost shyly. She dropped her knife and asked finally.

 

“What is wrong, Ser Jaime?”

 

“I imagine, you have plans after the war.”

 

“Yes, I do. To become Duchess in my own right and rule in my brother’s stead, as he will go south with his wife and child.”

 

“You will be your brother’s regent here?”

 

“Why of course.”

 

“Then I should probably lay off my offer.”

 

“What offer?” Sansa asked.

 

“Marriage.”

 

She shot him a confused look. “Between you and me?”

 

“Yes. As a way to make peace and I imagine you will make an excellent wife and lady.”

 

“I’d say I’m flattered, but in all honesty, I am not. My place is here.”

 

“I’m sorry then, for the offer. Of course, you need to stay with your family.”

 

“No need to be sorry. I’m doubting I’ll marry ever again.”

 

“Reasonable.” He gave her a small smile and she grinned somewhat. She hadn’t smiled in a while.

 

Back in the Wolfswood, Arya and Gendry were bickering all over again about the way to skin a rabbit for dinner they wanted to have in the forest, in private. Unfortunately, things were not going to plan as they couldn’t agree on anything. Gendry, being Gendry, poked and annoyed her until she was as red as a tomato with wrath. Arya pushed him into a puddle and he was laughing loudly, so she threatened him with Needle. Gendry rolled his eyes and jumped on a stone, pretending to be afraid. Arya saw red and pushed him harder now, he fell down, right in a riverbank of the White Knife. Gendry got out, wet.

 

“Well?” He said, spitting out a little fish.

 

Arya stared at him for a minute and started laughing loudly. Gendry chuckled and got out of the water.

 

“To be fair, I deserved that one.”

 

“I know.”

 

He grinned at her. “Imagine if we were married and spent every day together. This would have been a fucking every day occasion.”

 

On the words married, Gendry watched Arya’s face change. “You’d marry me?”

 

“In a heartbeat.” He said, proudly.

 

“Nuh-uh. You’re too big of a coward to marry me.”

 

Gendry crossed his arms. “Oh really? What is preventing me to go to Jon and ask him for permission to ask you for marriage?”

 

Arya tapped her foot. “Me.”

 

“Oh.” His shoulders dropped. “I didn’t know…”

 

“I don’t think I’d make a good wife. I’d travel all the time and get into fights and my dressing choices aren’t really ladylike or…”

 

“If I wanted some puffed up noblewoman, I’d propose to the next highborn thing I stumble upon. But I want you. As I always did.”

 

He turned around and Arya stood, thinking of the times they told each other how they’re family, their sweet and secret kisses, how gentle and carrying and accepting he was, how he helped whenever Arya was in need, how he spent his days in the forge… And then she realised, Jon has Daenerys to go home with after this upcoming war, Sansa shall stay here, with Bran, to protect the North and Arya has all of them, but Gendry… He had Ser Davos, who’d probably go to King’s Landing with Jon. His mother died when he was little and he never met his father. He only had her in this cruel, terrible world. She turned to Gendry.

 

“Yes.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ll marry you. But, I want to be able to travel whenever I want and…”

 

Gendry ran to her, grabbing her and spinning her around the woods. They kissed a few times and he put her down.

 

“I need to make a fucking ring! Hells, I don’t even know how!” He ran to their horses, then came back to her and ran back to them, this time with Arya.

 

“We need to shout it from the rooftops!”

 

Arya laughed. Perhaps, she’d see herself develop a nice little family with Gendry. A child or two, Nymeria and Storm’s End. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell, perhaps she could be Arya Baratheon of Storm’s End. Always better than being No One.

 

Jon and Dany were huddled up by the fire, Jon sitting on the large leather chair with Daenerys in his lap, his arm thrown around her belly. She was nuzzling his shoulder, the now dog-sized baby dragon was snoring on the floor next to Ghost. Dany felt like she was home. Jon was whispering sweet words into her ear, rubbing her belly.

 

“You are everything to me, Daenerys Stormborn.”

 

Dany hummed into his shoulder and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. The love she bore him sometimes scared her, but she knew, this was her one shot at happiness. Their idyllic lazing around was interrupted by the door being torn open and Jon grunted.

 

“Do you people even know how to knock?”

Arya observe their tight embrace. “Disgusting. Anyway, Gendry and I have an announcement to make. And that is, we’re getting married.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Dany said, clasping her hand together. Jon got up, still carrying Dany and put her down gently in the leather chair. Ghost seized the opportunity and laid down on her lap. Aellyx protested and wanted to climb on her shoulder, but Dany nuzzled him.

 

“No, my sweet, you’re too big for that now.” He looked a little disappointed but he climbed next to Ghost.

 

“Getting married? Aren’t you a bit too young for that?”

 

“I’m turning nine and ten in a week. Mother married aged six and ten.”

 

“I suppose I cannot forbid you anything… My little sister, getting married….” He turned to Gendry. “I’d say you’re a dead man if you hurt my sister, but something tells me she will finish you herself if you dare crossing her.”

 

“I swear upon my castle that I won’t do anything to harm my future wife.” Gendry nudged her with his shoulder. “Future wife!”

Arya hooked one arm around Gendry’s and turned to Dany. “When will we announce it?”

 

“Tomorrow, at the weekly meeting. An alliance between House Stark and House Baratheon at last.” She spoke. “As your grandfather intended it.”

 

“And father. He tried to marry Sansa to Joffrey. Bloody Hell, she was unbearable back then!”

“Back then?” Jon asked. Arya snickered.

 

“She’s going to kill us.”

 

“I see some lovely family rivalry.”

 

“Sansa and I’ve never gotten along. Mostly because she was such a prissy little lady.”

 

“And Arya was a lumberjack.” Jon responded.

 

“Was?” Gendry asked. Arya shoved him and he laughed loudly. Perhaps, this is what family felt like.

“I have a request for Gendry. To make an armour for Dany, to protect her while she’s flying.”

 

“Yes, but we don’t know when’s the attack and her belly might grow until then. Which means, we need to make armour to accommodate the belly without squishing His future Grace.”

 

“Well, seems like I’ll have to settle for an expanded version of my usual coats.” Daenerys looked at one splayed out on the bed. She was barely fitting into them now.

 

“I know where my mother kept her maternity wear, perhaps we can use that one too.” Arya said. “We’ll figure something out, like we always do.”

 

Daenerys walked out to take a walk with Ghost and little Aellyx flew right behind them, the sight of them became quite a usual sight around Winterfell, but people stared nonetheless. The Queen walked with her pets in tow, when the gates of Winterfell opened wide. She saw a troop of Wildlings come in, led by Tormund Giantsbane.

 

“Where is Jon Snow?” He shouted loudly. Daenerys paced to him and he observed her, clad all in white, in the snow.

 

“He is in the castle. What happened?”

 

“We saw him. The Night King. He has something…”

 

“What does he have?”

 

“Like a hunter’s horn of sorts… but when he blew it, a mountain crumbled.”

 

Daenerys went pale.

 

Chapter Text

 

Bran flew over The Wall, watching the Army of the Dead march right to it. Suddenly, they stopped, as if waiting for a cue to start marching again. The large, undead mammoths and undead spiders crawled over the iced ground and split the army, revealing the Night King himself. He stood there, perched atop of his dying mount and rode hard to the edge of the construction that stood since the times of Bran the Builder. Suddenly, he unveiled a leather bag and unwrapped it, holding a large, ivory horn in his hand, with strange carvings and silver rings around it. He blew into the Horn of Winter and The Wall crumbled into a million pieces, as if it was made by a child from a few pebbles. What his ancestor had built with ancient magic that was beyond his imagination was destroyed in mere seconds. Was everything as fragile as The Wall? Bran stopped in his tracks. They had a day or two at best to prepare for this fight, the real war. For the night was dark and full of death. Not today, Brandon thought, not today, son of a bitch. Brandon cracked his claws and flew back to a piece of the icy Wall as the army marched right through it. He thought of dead little Rickon, sleeping in the crypts. Bran failed him, but he won’t fail Jon, Sansa, Arya, not even Queen Daenerys and the unborn Prince. That child needed to live, by hook or crook.

 

Bran’s eyes turned their usual colour again and he gasped. In front of him, stood Daenerys, heavily pregnant, mere weeks away from giving birth. Next to her was Jon, who was holding her hand. Sansa sat by the fire, doing some embroidery to calm her nerves. She was fumbling around with a needle when she noticed Bran come back. Arya got up from her bed and turned to her family.

 

“And?” Jon asked.

 

“They breached The Wall, Jon. We need to go, now.”

 

Daenerys nodded. In her mind, she was already painting war paint on her cheeks. She turned to her family.

 

“Shall we begin?”

 

Winterfell was already armed to the top. The Dornish were boiling oil and preparing to pour it over the walls in the case the ring of fire that was built and about to be lit up around the castle was breached. Tyrion and Jaime were in the Goodswood, receiving last instructions from Jon who was telling them the plan for the hundred time all over again. Tyrion was to shield the women and children in the Great Hall and Sansa was to organise them. Arya would stay in the castle, as a last line of defence. The Unsullied would hold a barricade at the gates and the Dothraki were on top of Cregan’s Hill, as a surprise strike from the hip. Daenerys, who was currently absent, was to climb on Drogon, light the ring on fire and break the Army apart from the back. Jon heard light footsteps in the snow and saw her, dressed in her usual white furs, but this time, her coat had a large, high collar, on her right side was a red dragon with ruby eyes and on her left was a white wolf with matching eyes out of rubies. Jon smiled.

 

“Sansa made this for me… I’m not sure if it’s appropriate, but she told me Northern women fashion embroidery on their collars rather than jewellery.”

 

“It is.” Jon was looking at her, brushing his hand against her cheek. Dany blushed and Ser Jaime rolled his eyes. Ser Davos chuckled at the sight.

 

“Seven Hells, you two are married.” He spoke.

 

“No, we’re not.” Dany said. “Tyrion and Ser Davos forged the marriage document. We are, in fact, unwed.”

“Then let’s get this over with.” Jon spoke. “Now.”

 

“What happened?” Sansa spoke from behind, pushing Bran in.

 

“We’re getting married, for real, this time.” She looked a bit confused, but Bran asked her to push him to the Heart Tree. He stood there, as if he was some ancient priest. Ser Jorah and Missandei came in last, Greyworm following them suit. Jon stood in front of Bran, Ser Davos at his right. Ser Jorah came to Daenerys, realising what was about to happen.

 

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Bran spoke, loud and clear.

 

"Daenerys, of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

 

"Jon, of House Stark. Who gives her?"

 

"Jorah, of the House Mormont, her sworn shield."

 

"Queen Daenerys do you take this man?" Bran asked.

 

“I take this man.” She spoke with a soft smile. Jorah placed her hand in Jon’s who brought it to his lips and kissed it. They knelt to pray for a while, Jon supporting Dany due the extra weight she supported on her body. They got up and everyone clapped as they shared a kiss. Jon pulled his sword out.

 

“Now let’s bring the fuckers back where they belong.”

 

Everyone shouted back and went to take their position. Jon stopped Dany and took her in his arms.

 

“If anything goes south during the battle, fly away with our son and never look back. You need to live, Daenerys Stormborn. I am begging you.”

 

“Jon… You know I’d never abandon my people, ever.”

 

Jon put his hand on her belly. “This one comes first, Dany. They’re my people too, but you two need to live.”

 

“We’ll defeat him. Together.”

 

Jon kissed her for a final time and they split. Dany climbed on Drogon and the three dragons flew away to hide. She knew she wasn’t to fly until they light up a fire at the Broken Tower, which meant they spotted the Night King and that she was safe to fly. Dany hated waiting like a sitting duck, but this was the best they could do. First, she flew and light up the fire circle around Winterfell. It burned as bright as Lord Beric’s sword and served as protection for the people.

 

Sansa sat in the Great Hall, making sure everyone has enough wine and food. She remembered a more different time, when she was Cersei’s hostage and when Stannis sieged the city and they all thought they were to die. She told this tale to Tyrion who remembered it with a great sadness. He defended the city and was never mentioned to do so.

 

“And now the rains weep over their halls, with not a soul to hear…” Sansa murmured. “Your brother offered me marriage. I declined.”

 

“He mentioned it to me. Not a wise choice, in my humble opinion.”

 

“Why?”

 

“What is left after the war for you?”

 

“To become by brother’s regent here once they go back to King’s Landing.”

 

“And is that a certainty?”

 

“Who else? Arya is to wed Lord Baratheon.”

 

“And Prince Brandon?”

 

“He is a young boy with strange powers.”

 

“The men of the North make Stannis look progressive. Jon said they will elect their regent once the time comes for that. And if I had learned anything from my stay here, they barely took to their Queen, their King’s wife and mother to their future King.”

 

“I saved them from the Boltons.” Sansa said.

 

“In their eyes, Jon did it.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re wrong. Once the war is over, they’ll elect me.”

 

“If you say so.” He shrugged. “And Jaime isn’t that bad. He is quite good-looking according to some.”

“I’m sure Cersei would agree.”

 

“He’s putting his life out there, on the line. For your home.” Tyrion said. “I haven’t seen a single soul in the North thank Queen Daenerys for coming here. She should be in King’s Landing, ruling the country she conquered.”

 

“Then why isn’t she?”

 

“I advised her to summon Jon to bend the knee and repair this country and I advised her to believe him. It led to their marriage and the very reason why she’s here. Because she is the Protector of the Realm.”

 

“Perhaps, we should all open our minds to women in power.”

 

“Perhaps. And consider it. Casterly Rock had always been a nice home, you could make it your own.”

 

Sansa covered herself with her cloak. Marriage meant heirs and heirs meant… She shook her head. Ser Jaime was perhaps a changed man, but she was a changed woman.

 

Dany saw the fire in the tower. This was her cue. She flew high, burning the back rows as quickly as she could. Jon watched the Army set ablaze, with a smirk on his face. That was his wife there, the warrior that she was. Jon stood at the head of the army, Ghost right beside him.

 

“Get ready, my boy.”

 

Tormund stepped in front of him. “And now?”

 

“We take them down?”

“And the Night King?”

 

“Leave that son of a bitch for me. He knows he has it coming.”

 

“Good. Jon?”

“Aye?”

 

“Be careful. You’re going to be a father.”

 

Jon shook his head and started cutting down wights. Arya patrolled the castle, ordering the hot oil to be poured when it was right. She watched over Bran who was their eyes in the sky. Then she heard a voice she prayed never to hear again. She wished Ser Davos and Gendry were there with her, because they’d support her choice to hang this woman. Arya looked at Melisandre.

 

“So we meet again, Red Woman.”

 

“I am here for the Prince. Let’s get this over it.”

 

“I’d love too, but until the Night King has fallen, we cannot move.”

 

“That is what you think. Where is Jon Snow?” She asked.

 

“Stark. He’s down there, waiting for the biggest fish to arrive.”

 

“And Queen Daenerys?”

 

Arya pointed at the burning sky with Needle. There was a strange smile on Melisandre’s face.

 

“Fire made flesh. She’ll be in labour, soon.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Why are you here?”

 

“To help. Prince Brandon will need my help.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Let me speak to him.”

 

Arya’s gut was telling her million things, but she obliged and let Melisandre speak to Bran. They exchanged some confusing words and Melisandre took a stick and started drawing some strange symbols around the pond of the Goodswood. Soon, Bran begun chanting with her and there, the small lake light up in purple flames. Arya wanted to rub her eyes, but after the House of Black and White, she was ready to survive anything. She wanted to ask Bran, but Melisandre answered.

 

“For the Prince. It is a protection ring, around Winterfell. These walls are now unbreakable.”

 

“You fool!” Arya shouted. “He has the Horn of Winter!”

 

“I know.” She said. “That is why I’m here. First Men magic is the vilest thing that exist in this world. Sorry Raven, but you know, it is the truth, as it was stolen from the Children and used to erase them.”

 

“The Children taught First Men magic and fed them and they killed them?” Arya asked.

 

“Yes. Among other things. That is why he is here. To avenge them.”

 

Arya nodded. “What will happen if he blows the Horn at us?”

 

“If the spell worked, it will crumble into a million pieces. If it didn’t, I pray those dragons can fly faster.”

 

Arya was never too fond of gambling, but she was to promise Melisandre’s name to the Many-Faced God if that damned witch used the wrong spell. Sam counted the dead from the walls. There laid Edd, next to him Lord Westerling, and many more around them. He closed his eyes, the heat from the dragonfire engulfing his cheeks. Gods be good, this fight should be over soon.

 

Dany flew quickly, taking out entire rows of Undead, but the fucker kept raising them. She saw him, in his blue glory, her son kicking hard in her belly, as if he wanted to face the monster himself. Dany held her belly, feeling her son turning inside, as if he was trying to escape. It was a bit too soon, she hoped this was a false alarm. If it wasn’t this means she will have to dismount soon. She clutched her belly and blew a flame at the Night King, but missed. She noticed Jon cut down the legs of the Night King’s horse and he fell off, tumbling right to the edge of the gate. She saw Jon unsheathe his sword and march right to the son of a bitch, only to be ambushed by Walkers. Screaming, she flew down, but stopped once she saw Ser Jaime, Dame Brienne. Gendry, Podrick and Ser Jorah cut down the Walkers, their Valyrian steel breaking right through them. Jon was a bit bloody, but he looked good for a man who died once. Jon came to right to the place where the Night King was about to raise the wights again, when Jon kicked shield on him, throwing him off his balance.

 

“Why won’t you die?!” He yelled. And then the Night King spoke, in a voice so ancient that Daenerys felt her bones shake from the fear it gave her. It sounded like the voice of a man that died a thousand times over and hadn’t been released from his pain.

 

“Don’t you think you should die for your forefathers’ sins, child?” He asked, cleaning the mud and grime off his armour.

 

Jon stopped in his tracks. “Did the Children send you?”

 

“They made me, Jon. They gave me these powers and my own son and grandson had to rally men to kill me. Imagine, they thought they succeeded and they chased me away to a cave, where I hid from them, until magic came back into this world, I was powerful again. They want vengeance, justice. For what the First Men did to them.”

 

“But the Children helped during the first Long Night.”

 

“They had lost control of what they created, Jon. We became too powerful and my grandson raised a Wall high enough to keep us in.”

 

Jon nearly dropped his sword, hands shaking. “Your grandson was Bran the Builder? That means…”

 

“My own son was to ashamed to admit I fathered him, so he claimed Garth Greenhand for his father. I became but an erased memory in the pages of history.”

 

“You are a Stark.” Jon said. “Perhaps even the first one.”

 

“Perhaps, I was once. Now I want revenge to the First Men, for abandoning me. Revenge to the Children, who cursed and used me. And to House Stark, for erasing me.”

 

Jon shook his head. “I cannot let you do this.”

 

“Do they deserve to live?”

 

“Yes.” Jon said. “Even you.”

 

“I have been dead for a long time, child. You will join me, soon.”

 

High above, Daenerys Targaryen touched the pommel of Dark Sister. Over her dead body.

 

Chapter Text

Longclaw’s eyes glowed in the dead of the night, Jon threw off his sword belt. This was his battle to be won. The dragon that has just flown over his head convinced him it had to be. The King smirked and pulled out his horn, blowing into it. Winterfell didn’t even tremble. His smirk disappeared. Jon exhaled and ran to the Night King, who pulled out his sword and started fighting Jon. Daenerys landed in the courtyard and saw, to her surprise, Lady Melisandre standing next to Arya. Dany saw Bran nod at her and she came closer to the purple fire in the pond of the Goodswood.

“Care to explain what this is?”

“It is for the protection of Winterfell. Did the horn shatter?” Melisandre asked.

“No.” Dany answered. “You can still hear it.”

“Then the spell isn’t as powerful as I have thought… We need to destroy that horn. It can wake them.”

“The Others?” Dany asked.

“Yes.”

Dany nodded and turned to Arya and Bran. “Are you two safe here?” She asked. Arya nodded.

“And you?”

“I think… I’ll be in labour soon.”

“Seven Hells! You killed enough of them, you destroyed three quarters of their army, get inside and wait!”

“Not until the Night King is defeated. My son will wait.” Dany spoke firmly. Melisandre was looking at her belly with great interest. She touched it and Dany flinched. Melisandre’s eyes grew wide.

“You don’t have much time left, Your Grace. Your water will break soon.”

Dany shook her head. “There must be enough time. Jon needs me.” She took out Dark Sister and dipped it into the purple fire. The Valyrian steel rippled and shone brighter.

“I’m going to destroy that damned horn.” She looked at Arya. “Gendry is holding up well.”

She thanked her good-sister quietly and watched her climb her dreaded mount as the other two were burning the Army away. There weren’t many left and it looked like there was to be victory, as Jon was keeping the Night King busy. The two fighters were clashing swords, fighting as if there was no tomorrow. Dany saw the horn on the Night King’s back and flew down. There was one more thing to be done. His army was nearly defeated due their plan with hot oil and dragonfire, and their man power was greater. They suffered some loses, but otherwise, they were holding up. Ghost killed many wights and was running after Dany now, who climbed of Drogon and told him to join his brothers to destroy what remained of the army. Dany saw Jaime, Brienne, the Hound and Gendry take down several Walkers, Arya climbing from across the walls to join the fight. The girl was ferocious, Dany thought. Another ferocious one came up, Lady Lyanna Mormont riding next to her cousin and taking down wights and turning to Walkers now. Dany smiled, proudly and pulled out Dark Sister, still glowing from the fire Melisandre and Bran light.

Jon saw her and Dany noticed the panic in his eyes. She cut down a Walker from the back, he broke into a million pieces. She felt another one fall apart behind her, Arya smirking at her from a tree with a dragonglass arrow. She tried directing an arrow the Night King, alas, she missed. Dany told her to keep the arrows up to distract the Night King, who was trying to dodge them to fight Jon. Daenerys ran to him, the best she could, and struck his back. The blow destroyed the Horn of Winter, breaking it into three pieces. The Night King, confused from the blow behind his back, turned his head to face Daenerys when he felt a sword pierce right though his chest. Jon watched the Night King shatter and the rest of the Walkers and wights with him. The Others were gone now. Jon dropped Longclaw and Dany dropped Dark Sister who stopped glowing. They fell into each other’s arms and wept. Gendry grabbed Arya and kissed her face. Out of the castle walls, Tyrion came out, followed closely by Ser Davos and Sansa.

“It is over.” Jon said. “We won! Life has won!”

The banners gathered and everyone started shouting in joy. People were hugging, kissing and grabbing their loved ones, thanking every force there was that they were alive. Jon held Dany close, letting her rest on his body. Ser Davos picked his sword up high.

“For Their Graces! The ones who ended the Night King!”

“The King and Queen!” They shouted. “Gods bless Their Graces!”

Suddenly, Dany felt water drip down her legs, as if she relieved herself on the spot. Dany felt a sharp pain bellow and grabbed Jon’s arm.

“Jon, it’s time.” Jon stopped in his tracks and grabbed Dany, carrying her like a bride in Winterfell. He said something to Davos and Sansa and Arya followed them. Gendry turned to Davos and the old man spoke.

“The Queen is in labour. Tyrion, come.”

Tyrion turned to Jaime. “Organise these people and distribute food among them. Then come with me.”

They ran into the building. In the royal chamber, maids undressed Daenerys and put her in a linen white nightgown, helping her get into the bed. She was panting, dead tired, feeling as if she was to be torn apart. Jon and the men were chased out of the room by a midwife and Gilly. Tyrion was helping everyone to get in as there was a storm coming. Confused, Jon let everyone in the Great Hall and Tormund patted his back.

“I hear you got the fucker.”

“Dany is in labour!” He panicked, jumping out of his chair. Tormund attempted to calm him down.

“She rides dragons and fights with us. What is labour to her? I’ll summon some our midwives if the Southern ones aren’t good enough.”

“There are two Maesters with her there and several midwives.”

Sansa closed the door of the bedroom. The labour has just begun and she needed to get out, because it was getting rough. She searched a for a familiar face when she saw Ser Jaime helping the servants close up the windows and stuff any holes with hay and scraps of fabric. The sounds outside were terrifying. It sounded like a thousand wailing children were trying to claw their way inside of Winterfell. Sansa trembled in her boots.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said. Her skin wasn’t cold, but her soul was getting icier as the days passed. Ser Jaime offered her his coat and she felt as if he was cloaking her for a wedding ceremony. She turned to him, again.

“Thank you.”

“Get inside of the Grand Hall. Your family needs you. This is a difficult time for anyone. Childbirth is a penniless business. My own mother died birthing Tyrion. Rhaella Targaryen died bringing Daenerys into this world.” Jaime said, remembering Cersei’s trials.

“I think Father told me that his mother died shortly after Uncle Benjen was born.” Sansa remembered.

“See? She is dead tired after fighting… If she dies, we’re all lost.” Jaime said.

“What happens then? Does Jon rule until their son is old enough?” She asked.

Jaime turned to her. “The Seven Kingdoms won’t be able to fill the hole she will leave behind if she dies. If Daenerys dies, Jon goes with her. That is how they work. I am too familiar with feelings as such. The things we do for love.”

“You must be familiar with those.” Sansa tried to jab him.

“Violent delights have quite violent ends. Have you heard what happened to her?”

“She’s imprisoned, awaiting trial.”

“Yes. Many think I should too.”

“I don’t.” Sansa spoke quietly. There was a strange tension between them, almost as if there were some unspoken words.

“We should go to the Hall.”

The storm became stronger and there was thunder now, along with the snow. It seemed like the Old Gods came to clean up their mess.

In King’s Landing, Lady Olenna was finishing up the last review of the reports from ten years ago. The national debt was horrific. As Master of Coin, it was her duty to ensure that this was cleaned up as soon as it was possible. She figured out, if she calculated the amount of money they’ll get from selling all the grain in the Crownlands combined with a quarter of the grain of Reach, a huge chunk of the debt would paid off. She finished her last calculations and wrapped up for tonight. She was an elderly woman and needed her rest. She observed Lord Varys who was rubbing his eyes. Lord Velaryon was there too, serving as Master of Law. He just received a raven.

“The Others have been defeated. The Queen went into labour. Jon Stark, King in the North. Lord Varys! Lady Olenna!” He shouted.

Varys’ eyes went wide. “I hope she has a safe birth.”

Lady Olenna exhaled. “We’re safe. How many dead?”

“Doesn’t say it.” She nodded.

“Then we shall wait. Has anyone visited the wench?”

“No.” Varys said. “I think today is your turn.”

She huffed and got up. Propped up by her cane, she dragged herself to a chamber in the Maidenvault. There she was. Her hair already grew past her shoulders and she was clad in her usual finery. She was treated well for some prisoner. She had good food, clothing and servants to tend to her. Olenna opened the makeshift door that was lined with bars and saw Cersei sit in the middle of the room, looking through the window, at the snow falling down on the streets.

“Cersei.”

“Olenna.”

“I hope you’re eating well. The Others were defeated and Queen Daenerys is in labour.”

“No one told the she was pregnant.”

“Oh, our bad. A legitimate heir for the throne, imagine that!”

“You killed him.”

“I know. I’d do it again.”

“I killed people too, yet I am the only one awaiting trial.”

“You know it best. The victors write the rules. If your Lord Father has taught you anything, that must be it. He was a tyrant, that one, albeit a competent one. You are, plainly simply, just a tyrant.”

“And what are you, a child murderer?”

“He was a monster, perhaps even worse than the Mad King himself. Rest Cersei, I don’t know what your sentence shall be. To be fair, as Duchess of the Reach, I’d vote death, alas it is not on me. Have they told you who your jury will be? No, I presume. Your jury will consists from the Seven Dukes. I imagine young Lord Robyn will have some questions about his father’s death. The Stark representative will have many things to say, too. Doran Martell will finally be able to avenge Elia and Oberyn. Young Gendry will certainly rain fury upon you for Robert. But the one I want to see the most is Ser Jaime.”

“Impossible. There are no Baratheons.”

“Oh, there is one. A bastard boy, now legitimized. He’s even betrothed to a Stark.”

“Lies.”

“You didn’t kill them all, Cersei. One saved himself. He is a spitting image of Robert. My work here is done.”

She turned her back and left. She can rot in her cell all she want, but that will not bring her son and grandchildren back from the grave. Perhaps, another day, another revenge.

 

The halls of Winterfell were echoing from the storm that raged outside. Jon was standing in front of the bedroom, listening to Dany scream in anguish. He knew, she was not to be alone there. Jon was a King, for fuck’s sake. His wife shouldn’t be alone there, bleeding in pain. He heard a rustle of fabric behind him, there stood Lady Melisandre, holding a candle.

“Come, Jon Stark. She needs you.”

They entered the bedroom. Dany laid there, pale and sweaty, attempting to push and taking long breaks in-between. She panting and barely able to utter a single word. She looked so tired, the dark circles under her eyes appeared even larger. The Maester turned to him.

“You are not supposed to be here!”

“Sure as hell I am!” He shouted and ran to Jon. He knelt next to her and squeezed her hand. Her eyes shot open and she turned her head to him.

“Jon… Is that you? Is that really you?”

“My love.” He kissed her hand. “You are doing great.”

“I’m not, Jon. I’ll be dead before the dawn. It hurts, it hurts so much…”

“Don’t you dare to leave us, Daenerys Stormborn!” He shouted. There were tears in his eyes and they slowly slid down his cheeks. Jon got up and propped Dany up, putting her head in his lap. She grabbed both of his arms. The midwife looked down.

“It is time, Your Grace. You are open enough.”

Dany recalled her own mother dying in a trial like this. She saw various flashes in her fever dreams, her mother and Rhaegar sitting on a bench together and playing with a small Viserys, Robert Baratheon commanding men to kill her, Eddard Stark pleading for her life, a pale horse riding through a field of poppies. She saw a silver knight sitting by the throne, a meadow of spring roses and wolf howling on a mountain. Dany saw green and blue birds flying across the skies, a yellow dragon following them. Then she saw two twin flames burning down the Citadel. She saw King Jaeherys the Old write down laws and speak to his people. Dany was hot and cold all at once, tired and strong at the same. She was the blood of the dragon and she will survive this. The Dothraki Sea, the Red Waste, the Slaver’s Bay… Nothing could kill her, how will the birth of her child? She screamed in pain again, but the midwife looked pleased now.

“A little more, Your Grace!” Dany pushed and pushed, feeling as if her body and spirit were splitting. Then she felt a strange sensation. She let go of Jon’s arms. There was a scream, as loud as her dragons.

“Mother of Dragons…” Jon whispered, watching as the midwife took out hot scissors to cut the umbilical cord. Jon got up.

“May I?” He asked.

She was confused, but nodded. She showed him how and he cut it. The midwife wrapped the baby boy in linen and Jon returned to Dany, helping her up. The midwife placed the little crying thing in his mother’s arms. Both of his parents wept. Jon was a father now and Daenerys a mother again. She looked at him with tearful eyes.
“Jon?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I know his name.”

“Tell me?”

“Jaeherys. Like the Old King. May he be as good as that one was!”

“Jaeherys, Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the Seven Kingdoms.” Jon smiled, watching his little white head shake in tears. Dany rocked him and revealed her breast and he ate hastily.

“He is a large one, my Queen. But strong and a healthy. I’ll send ya a wetnurse, you will need her help. May I wash the little Prince?” She asked.

“A little longer, please?” Dany asked. She nodded and started warming up the water. Jon held his family tightly, for the first time. Dany handed him little Jaeherys and he opened his eyes for the first time, as violet blue as he expected. He was as beautiful as his mother. Two midwives helped Dany up and cleaned the bed, changed the sheets and bedding. They helped her bathe and stitched up her wounds. Dany laid back down, now clad in a clean nightgown. Jon told them to burn the bloody clothes. He forgot Melisandre was there. She approached the midwife bathing Jaeherys, watching closely. Her eyes closed, she looked at peace.

“May the Lord of Light bless you, Jaeherys, for you have been promised.”

She walked out of the room, right though Winterfell. Ser Davos ran after her, watching as she took off her necklace and disappeared into the woods. He went back to the castle, realising the storm had finally stopped. He watched the lords gathered in the hall. Samwell Tarly waddled in, blushing.

“We have a prince!” He said, as the hall erupted, swords flying, men shouting and clapping.

“I’d like to ask the aunts and uncles to gather and see the baby. And Lord Tyrion and Ser Davos were invited too. Ser Jorah, you too.”

The small company went to the royal chamber. Daenerys laid abed, hair loose around her shoulders. Jon sat beside her on his leather chair, a crib between them. Dany’s lids were falling down and Jon too looked dead tired. Arya realised how sleepy she was when she saw them, almost undressed and ready for bed. A little sound was heard from the crib and Jon chuckled. He gestured them to the crib carved with direwolves. There laid a baby, hair as pale as milk, skin nearly translucent. He had pudgy cheeks and slept like a rock.

“This is Prince Jaeherys.” Jon smiled. Tyrion had to rub his eyes. For the first time in over fifty years, the Seven Kingdoms were united, a legitimate heir without any side claims was alive and well and there was a good woman on the throne. All seemed well. He knelt next to the crib and turned to Dany, offering her a hand.

“Are you well?”

“I want to rest. You should do.”

“I did next to nothing.”

“Now that the Night King is gone, the men are alive and well. It is your time to shine, Lord Hand. Keep the cattle at bay.”

“So shall it be, my Queen.” He turned his head to Jaeherys. “An odd choice for a name. It sounds like a combination of Jon and Daenerys.”

“He’ll be good one, just like his namesake.” Dany smiled, watching him sleep peacefully.

“We’ll raise him well.” Tyrion poked. “I’ll give him his first drink.”

Dany smiled, eyes closing. She needed sleep like air so she laid down with Jon’s help. Jon took the baby out of the crib and turned to the visiting party. He gave him first to Missandei, Dany’s closest friend and advisor. Missandei had tears in her eyes.

“He is very little.” Greyworm spoke, looking at the baby Prince. Next up was Sansa, who held him just as she did with Rickon as a little girl. He was so tiny and smelled like milk. Arya was watching them with a tense expression. Jon nudged her.

“Come.”

“I’ve never held a baby.”

“Neither have I before this. Come.”

Arya’s arms were shaking, but once Jaeherys was there, they stopped. She looked at his little hands and nearly cried. She didn’t notice Ser Jorah passing by her and kneeling next to Tyrion, who was watching Dany fall asleep. Her lids were falling down slowly, but he saw she was trying to stay awake. Dany leaned on her elbows, smiling.

“Hi, Ser Jorah.”

“Congratulations, my Queen.”

“Isn’t he perfect?” She smiled. Ser Jorah nodded.

“I’ll tell everyone to leave so you can get your hard earned sleep.” She nodded before finally falling asleep. Jorah spoke to Jon quickly and he nodded before asking everyone to take their leave. Jon took off his coat and breeches and slipped into his sleeping clothes. He crawled under the covers next to Dany and offered her an arm and they fell asleep together. From what they’ve been told the next day, the slept for an entire day and a half. Jon woke before Dany and got dressed. He decided to take his son a little stroll when he was done eating. After the baby boy was tucked in thick blankets and furs, Jon walked through the halls. The first visitor was Ghost. The direwolf licked the baby’s hand and Jon smiled at him.

“Ghost, this is my son, Jaeherys. Isn’t he sweet?” Ghost nudged his hand and Jon walked to the courtyard, where Tormund was watching Brienne train some squires. Next to Tormund stood Ser Jaime, who was playing with the hilt of his sword. They turned when they heard footsteps and saw their King carry a bundle of furs. Jaime’s eyes went wide and he bowed deeply. Tormund didn’t understand what was going on until a tiny arm rose from the bundle.

“Tormund, Ser Jaime. This is my son, Jaeherys.” The two men hovered over the bundle and watched the little thing open his violet eyes at them. His eyes fluttered at the sight of them. Tormund’s grin was something completely new to Jon.

“Your son, eh? Look at you, my little crow! A father. How is the Dragon Queen?”

“She’s resting. Her labour was a little difficult.”

“I see. Take the little one back inside, he looks hungry.”

Little Jaeherys started crying and Jon carried him back inside, right into Dany’s arms. She unbuttoned her shirt and started feeding him. She kissed his little head, watching him slowly drink her milk. He ate hastily, as he was a hungry little one. Jon watched them with great interest, as he has never seen anyone breastfeed a child. Daenerys leaned back on the pillow, inhaling.

“Do you want to drink something? Or are you hungry? You need food too.” He spoke, watching her closely. Daenerys smiled and shook her head.

“Well, perhaps later, we can have something lighter. Is it still snowing?”

Jon nodded. “There was a storm when you were giving birth.”

“Another one born in a storm, huh? Where is Lady Melisandre?”

“She took off her necklace and died after she saw Jaeherys.” He said, confirming her suspicions.

“Oh, she was quite old, wasn’t she?”

Jon nodded. “And you are quite young.”

There was a knock on the door and a Dothraki woman, about 40, came in, carrying a sheepskin. Dany thanked her.

“What’s that?” Jon asked.

“Fresh mare milk. To regain my strength.” She turned to the Dothraki woman. “Is my Khalassar alright, Mire?”

She nodded. “Everything is good, Khaleesi. Some dead, most alive. All fought bravely. He looks strong, Khaleesi.” She pointed out, observing the little boy. “I can find him a wetnurse.”

Daenerys thanked her. “Of course. Can you believe my curse was broken, Mire?”

She gave her a confused look. “What curse, Khaleesi?”

“A Lazareni woman cursed me.”

“Lazareni magic is as good as the sole of an old sandal, Khaleesi. It’s useless. They can’t even cast a curse, let alone make a woman barren. She lied through her teeth, Khaleesi. There was nothing ever wrong with you.”

“You think so?”

“It is known.” She smiled and left. Dany stared at the jug. Jon asked about what they were talking about since he didn’t understand Dothraki. Dany just shrugged.

“Nothing. Drink some off the milk, too.”

Jon sipped a little. “Seven Hells, woman! What is this?”

“This is what little Dothraki children drink.”

“What? Our son is not drinking that!”

“Have you ever seen a sick Dothraki man, woman or child?”

“To be fair, no.”

“Exactly. He’ll be a healthy one. And we need a nickname. Jaeherys is a mouthful.”

“We’ll come up with something. You know, we’ll give the next one a simpler name.”

“The next one?” Dany laughed.

Chapter Text

Arya was standing on the stairs as Sansa pinned a long strand of golden fabric on her sleeve. They were making her an elaborate wedding gown. It was long, with a short train and I had a high collar, like most Northern gowns. Sansa thought there could be a lovely embroidered design, a mix of wolves, stags and trout. The bodice was quite simple, with golden clasps. It had long sleeves that dragged to her knees, with more wolf embroidery on them. It was quite heavy and was made out of strong, wolf grey fabric that was the same colour as Arya’s eyes. She was quite fond of it and decided that it shall suit her well. Of course, Arya demanded to carry her sword and wear pants underneath as she just couldn’t settle for wearing a plain, dumb dress. Sansa was pleased with the current outcome of the gown, as the wedding was another moon away. Jon and Gendry agreed on Arya’s dowry, of course Gendry didn’t demand anything, but what they had was enough. He was looking forward to the wedding in the Godswood, as Gendry wasn’t particularly religious, he was alright with the ceremony in the faith of the Old Gods.

 

 

Dany watched them curiously, little Jaeherys sleeping in her arms. He was already four moons old and was quite strong. Arya watched her little nephew open his eyes and yawn. He smiled at his mother and she pressed a little kiss on his pudgy cheeks.

 

 

“I have to show you something.” Dany announced. She placed Jas on his belly and he flipped himself on his back, giggling.

 

 

“Oh, he isn’t a little turtle anymore!” Arya proclaimed, kneeling down to pinch his little cheek.

 

 

“Arya, you’re ruining the dress!” Shouted Sansa. Arya rolled her eyes. She got up and took immediately off and gave it back to the seamstress.

 

 

“Fuck, I’m getting married.” She said, looking at her shoes. “Gods help Gendry if he annoys me.”

 

 

Dany nodded. Sansa walked with the seamstress and told them she’ll be right back.

 

 

“I need to ask you something.”



“Of course.”

 

 

“When you were expecting, what was it like?”

 

 

“It was a strange, but wonderful experience.”

 

 

“I mean, physically.”

 

 

“Oh! My breast were swollen, I didn’t get my moonblood, I was bloated and tired all the time, oh and the puking was horrendous.”

 

 

Arya went pale. “Puking, you say? In the mornings?”

 

 

“Yes! And the strange pains and the… Arya, are you…?”

 

 

“Maybe. I’m not certain. Please, don’t mention this to Jon. He’ll roast Gendry for lunch.”

 

 

“Your body is none of his business. I can help you how to tell. If you didn’t get your moonblood, that is a very telling sign. Second, are you craving foods?”

 

 

“I usually eat like a man, but now I’m even hungrier.”

 

 

“I’d say we confirm with a midwife.”

 

 

“Thank you. I’m afraid to tell Sansa, she’ll judge me for lying with Gendry before marriage.”

 

 

“No one is judging you.” Dany said, handing her Jaeherys. “For practise.”

 

 

Arya deadpanned, realising how real this is becoming. Marriage, perhaps even a child. Her eleven year old self was giving her the cold shoulder, but her current self was quite content with the home and family she was creating. Life on the run wasn’t like in the tales, it was terrifying and about survival. She knew she’d travel once she has a baby, but perhaps, she’d first try to be a wife. Gendry was a good man and she believed he’d be an excellent father too. She’d be a good mother, perhaps not one like her own was, maybe one like Arya Flint, who, according to Old Nan, used to climb the walls of Winterfell with her children. Arya lulled her nephew who yawned again.

 

 

“Is breastfeeding painful?”

 

 

“A little, yes. I don’t know what it will look like once he gets teeth.”

 

 

“Seven Hells.” Arya said. “But he’s cute, I mean look at him!”

 

 

His big purple eyes shined at the compliment. Arya kissed his hand. “Aren’t you sweet!”

 

 

“Who is officiating your wedding?” Dany asked. “Bran again?”

 

 

“Yes. Jon is giving me away.”

 

 

“Of course.” Dany got up and opened her jewellery box. There was a wolf-shaped pin, with sapphire blue eyes.

 

 

“I’ve had this made for you, to hold your cloak in place. I’m not sure if it’s correct…”

 

 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

 

 

Daenerys smiled. “Thank you for accepting me into your family.”

 

 

“You’re Jon’s wife and the mother of his son. Of course you’re family. He is too. Are you sleepy?” She asked, watching his little lids close. Arya watched Dany place her son in the crib. He yawned and fell asleep quickly and she covered him up. Dany kissed his temples and walked back to Arya.

 

“Come along, Arya.”

 

Sansa was searching for a cloak in her closet, because she realised there were some errands she had to run before lunchtime. She got dressed and went outside in the cold, where Dame Brienne was training Podrick and young Ned Umber. Lady Lyanna Mormont joined her, explaining how and where to stand in a battle. Little Ned was a sweetling, speaking kindly to everyone. Brienne grew quite fond of the boy, as he had been her companion since that fateful day on the Trident. They saw Sansa and bowed.

 

“Have you seen Ser Jaime?” Sansa asked.

 

“No, not that I remember.” Lady Lyanna said.

 

 

“He is with his brother, I saw them walk around the camp.”

 

She nodded and thanked them. She climbed on a horse and rode off to the camp that bore the Lannister banners, around with the rest of the Western lords. Ser Jaime stood there, his younger brother behind him, on a chair. They were discussing something but stopped once they spotted Sansa riding toward them. Jaime approached her and offered Sansa a hand as she climbed off the horse. She straightened her dress. Jaime thought she resembled a young Catelyn Tully, looking almost like her mother back in Riverrun when she was a girl. They were about the same age, even. Sansa’s icy blue eyes were scanning the room. She turned to Jaime.

 

“Ser Jaime, there has been an issue with Lord Tarbeck. His armies have taken a large portion of the food that was meant for the Dayne army. Ellaria Sand came to me to complain, which means this is a serious matter.”

 

“Tarbeck, why is it always Tarbeck?” He asked shaking his head. Tyrion turned to Sansa.

 

“I’m sure there is something we can figure out. Give the portion that was meant for them to the Daynes.”

 

“Very well.” Sansa said.

 

“Is Lord Edric leading the army?” Tyrion asked.

 

“Yes. With his ten year old cousin.”

 

“Children fighting like men.” Jaime said, shaking his head. Sansa shrugged.

 

“I’m glad we could easily figure this out. Will Tarbeck be punished?”

 

“Probably.” Jaime said. “That is mine to figure out.”

 

Sansa nodded. “I suppose.”

 

There was an odd tension between them. Sansa took off to walk back to her horse, sparing Ser Jaime one last glance. She thought of accepting his proposal, but then again, she’d sacrifice a potential position as leader in her own right. She shook her head and rode off. Jon’s future children will probably inherit her spot, who’d be insane enough to marry her? But then again, she’d be left alone here. Jon and Daenerys will live in King’s Landing, Arya and Gendry in Storm’s End. She’d be alone, because they will have their own families to raise. Sansa was to be left with Bran, who was mostly her assistant now, wrote letters in her name and helped out with running Winterfell. But, a brother wasn’t a husband or a son. She craved the closeness a nuclear family had, something she dreamed off as a girl. And somehow, Arya was the first one to wed.

 

 

A moon passed and Arya was getting dressed for her wedding. Lady Missandei was braiding her hair into a tight bun at the crown of her head. She thanked her and put on the maiden coat on her back, pinning it with Dany’s pin in place. She liked how she looked like, especially the pants underneath and the sword on her hip. Daenerys stood there, behind her, in a long, white fur coat and a wreath of small blue roses around her bun, as a crown. She had not been crowned yet, but she was Queen and deserved her place to be known.

 

“You look marvellous, Arya.”

 

“I know.” She responded. Dany opened the door, where Jon was standing, in his usual dark furs and the Northern Crown on his head. He nodded and offered her an arm. Arya took it. She saw tears in Jon’s eyes, and she looked at him.

 

“Don’t you dare crying today, Jon. I know that Father, Mother, Robb and Rickon are supposed to be here.”

 

“It’s not just that… My little sister is getting married!” Jon cried.

 

“When you and Dany have a daughter, what will you do on her wedding day?”

 

“Don’t even…”

 

Arya laughed. “There he is!”

 

The Godswood was light up by torches, Bran sitting in front of the heart tree. Arya saw Gendry, dressed in his family colours, looking at her with tears in his eyes. Her chest felt swollen and she paced to the spot where Bran was waiting. She saw Daenerys and Missandei standing close, Missandei was holding the little Prince, Greyworm poking his pudgy cheeks. Ser Davos stood right next to Gendry, looking like a proud father. Arya wanted to walk faster, but she remembered what Sansa told her. Speaking of her, she was standing between Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion, watching her with pride. She was holding a handkerchief and wiping tears silently. Ser Jaime patted her shoulder and she cried even more.

 

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Bran spoke, loud and clear.

 

 

 

"Arya, of the House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

 

 

 

"Gendry, of House Baratheon. Who gives her?"

 

 

 

"Jon, of the House Stark, her brother."

 

 

 

"Princess Arya, do you take this man?" Bran asked.

 

 

 

“I take this man.” She answered proudly. They knelt in prayer as they were blessed. Arya squeezed Gendry’s hand tightly.

 

“Cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Bran said, as Gendry took off Arya’s maiden coat and replaced it with a Baratheon one, made out of heavy, golden fabric with a large black stag on its back. They kissed and the congregation cheered for them, even baby Jaeherys.

 

“Let the feast begin!” Shouted Tormund. Everyone roared back. Dany left her son to the nursemaid and left to join the wedding party. She was sitting beside Gendry and Jon sat next to Arya. Speaking of Jon, he was giving a short speech on marriage, love and family.

 

“I’ve been told that love is the death of duty and that duty is the death of love. But sometimes, we grow to love our duty or those who we love become our duty.” He glanced over at Daenerys. “To my sister, Arya, and new brother, Gendry! May your marriage be long and happy!” Jon said, trying to keep down the chocking sound that was about to come out of his throat. He swallowed and everyone clapped for him. Jon sat down and watched Dany nod at him with approval. He smiled again. The feast went slowly, everyone ate first. Then, Daenerys saw Bard Ramin approach their table with a deep bow. She put her fork down and swallowed her chicken quickly.

 

“Bard Ramin! What a pleasure to see you!” She spoke. The bard bowed deeply again.

 

“I wanted to ask if we should play some music.”

 

“Of course.” She turned to Gendry. “What song?”

 

“I’ve been always fond of Seasons of My Love.” Gendry said.

 

Bard Ramin nodded and went to his band, commanding them to play. Gendry took Arya’s hand and they clumsily opened the first dance, so Jon and Dany followed suit. Brienne and Podrick were clapping for everyone, while the Hound was eyeing Gendry.

“I’ll speak to the fucker later.” He spat. Pod nudged him and told him to cheer up for their wedding day. Tyrion asked Missandei for a dance and she nodded, smiling. He spotted Sansa Stark sitting alone by the Stark part of the table, so he patted Jaime’s shoulder.

 

“Ask her.”

 

“She already said no to the proposal.”

 

“You can still have some joy in life, Jaime.” Tyrion spoke as he joined Missandei for a final spin around the room, as he was already dizzy from the wine. Jaime got up and walked over to Sansa’s table. She was looking down at her food when he offered her his left hand. She gave him an odd look.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Don’t you want to dance a little?”

 

She smiled then and got up. They slid over the dance floor, between the bride and groom and The Queen and King. Daenerys watched them with great interest. Perhaps, Tyrion’s idea of marriage between House Stark and House Lannister wasn’t so farfetched in the end. How else were they to make peace after the bloodshed?

 

Gendry was only looking at Arya. She had always been his entire world and now they were together in the eyes of the Gods and men. Gendry noticed her eyes were teary. He wiped a tear that was sliding out of her eye.

 

“Why are you crying? Are you unhappy?” He begged.

 

“I just love you, is that alright?”

 

He kissed her hand. “I am the luckiest bastard in the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

“I have to tell you something.”

 

“Whatever, my love. I am yours.”

 

“I think our family might be growing soon.”

 

“Of course, Nymeria is a part of the family.”

 

“Gendry. I mean, we weren’t careful enough.”

 

“You mean…”

 

“I’m expecting. But don’t you dare telling anyone yet. I’ll tell everyone at least after a moon or two, so they don’t get too suspicious.”

 

He held her tightly. “We’re going to be the best parents in the world. Thank you.”

 

She kissed his cheek and they held each other tightly. They shall be a family soon, with a child on the way. They were taking off to Storm’s End tomorrow, but first there had to be a stop at the capital for Dany’s coronation. They were leaving tomorrow after the election of the Northern regent. Most of the lords already left for their homes, the Dornish went home first because they lived the farthest away. The Storm Lords attended the wedding and were pleased with their new Duchess.

 

Morning came and everyone was awake at the crack of dawn to vote. Maester Volkan was counting the votes as each of the Northern lords were placing a vote for the two nominees, Sansa and Bran. Sansa was fidgeting her sleeve and waiting for the Maester to finish counting the votes. She was tired of waiting. Bran seemed calm, he was reading something by the fire. She wanted this, but somehow, what came with that position, was something she wasn’t really looking forward to. A life of solitude and loneliness. Ever since Lily left to marry some blacksmith she felt quite lonely. She considered getting a lover but feared of getting pregnant or catching an illness. If she wanted to be in power, she had to be alone.

 

“I’ve counted the votes!” Said the Maester. Sansa looked at him.

 

“The lords have elected Prince Brandon!”

The group clapped and Sansa got up and left. She wandered through the castle and entered the first bedroom she could. Thankfully, the bed was empty, but the hearth was on fire, warming the room. The settee was empty too from what she could see, because it was turned to the fireplace. She grabbed a vase and threw it on the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. A loud whistle came from the settee. Sansa went pale as she saw Jaime Lannister rising from behind the small seating place. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

 

“I see you’re up early.”

 

“I lost.”

 

“What did you lose?”

 

“The vote! Bran is confirmed as Duke! And I’m just… Nothing!”

 

“You’re Princess Sansa Stark. Daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, a Princess in your own right, a survivor and a leader. You’ve never been nothing.”

 

She looked through the window. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

 

“I imagine that Jon and Daenerys would take you with them if you asked.”

 

She shook her head. “And what I’d be there? The sad aunt?”

 

“That was my title in King’s Landing.”

 

“Is your offer is on the table?”

 

Jaime stopped breathing. “Yes.”

 

“I accept.”

 

“You do?”

“I’ll notify Jon.” She said, leaving the room. She opened the door of Jon’s privy, where he sat with his wife and Yara Greyjoy. She was nursing a wound on her hip from the Battle of Ice and Fire, alas, she was doing well. Jon was about to sign peace with House Greyjoy when Sansa barged in. Tyrion was nearly knocked over from the force the door produced.

 

“I’m marrying Jaime Lannister. End of discussion.”

 

Jon got up, kicking his chair down, Daenerys following him.

 

“Sansa, do you want to talk?” Daenerys asked, painfully aware of what happened at the election.

 

“No, there is nothing to talk about. Announce it, Houses Stark and Lannister have officially made peace and I’m the one bringing it.” Jon just nodded. He didn’t have time or energy to argue with her now. Tyrion looked quite pleased.

 

“Well, congratulations, I suppose, good-sister.” Sansa turned on her heel and left to pack. She stumbled upon Ser Jaime who was walking around, attempting to find her. He stopped her, finally. He opened his hand and showed her a golden ring. It was dainty, but it had an odd combination of stones on it. A ruby, a sapphire and an emerald were cut and arranged like a three-leafed clover.

 

“I’m not certain of its appropriate, but it belonged to my mother. It is yours, now.” He said. Sansa extended her hand and let him put the ring on her finger. It looked somehow as if it belonged here. She thought of her Lady Mother and what she were to think if she saw her now. She just wanted to belong somewhere without praying that she’d be thrown out soon. As Lady of Casterly Rock and Duchess of the Westerlands she’d never have to worry about something like that again. Perhaps, a child of hers will continue the line of House Lannister there. She’d be a Lannister by marriage, but a Tully and Stark at heart. She took Ser Jaime’s arm and waited for the announcement.

 

Later in the evening, the caravan was due to leave the North. Jon and Daenerys rode first, with the great lords following them in tow, and a carriage carrying Sansa, Tyrion, Missandei and the baby Prince. Tyrion was studying Sansa’s face while Missandei was toying around with baby Jaeherys. Sansa was watching them closely.

 

“I’m glad you accepted.”

 

“I suppose. You’ve been lobbying for this since you came to Winterfell.”

 

“As it should be.”

 

“I thought they were to pick me.”

 

“You know why they picked Bran.”

 

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, anyway.”

 

“You will wed after the coronation?”

 

“No, we’ll wed in private, in the Sept of Riverrun.”

 

“In a week?” Tyrion asked. Sansa nodded. She closed her eyes and let sleep carry her away from the real world.

Chapter Text

“Father, Warrior, Smith.” Spoke Jaime.

 

 

“Mother, Maiden, Crone.” Answered Sansa.

 

 

“Stranger.” They said in union.

 

 

“I am hers and she is mine from this day until my last.”

 

 

“I am his and he is mine from this day until my last.”

 

 

“You may kiss the bride.” Spoke the Septon. The Sept of Riverrun was stacked with guests. It was strange to think that the last people to wed in that private Sept were the parents of the bride. Sansa wore a heavy, dark blue dress made out of beautifully embroidered brocade, her hair up in a two rows of braids. The Lannister cloak was now on her back. The congregation clapped and Arya leaned to Daenerys.

 

“Do you think she’s happy?”

 

“We can only hope she is. I tried convincing her not to throw herself into this, but in the end, it is her choice. Ser Jaime is a good man and he will be a good husband, without a doubt.”

 

“I hope so, too.”

 

“Are you ill? Do you need to sit down?” Dany asked. Arya gave her a weak smile.

 

“I’ve been puking all over my chamber. And I’m somehow hungry all the time.”

 

“It’ll pass. And then you’ll blow up.”

 

Arya frowned. “Thank you for the forewarning.”

 

Dany patted her back. After the short ceremony, Lord Edmure Tully hosted a feast for his niece’s wedding. The River Lords and Western Lords were eyeing each other from the sides of the room. On the head table, Jaime and Sansa were seated between Lord Edmure and his wife. Next to Lord Edmure were the monarchs. He kept asking Daenerys many questions, which she politely answered. He even asked her about the coronet she wore around her bun. It had been a gift from Jon, as a token of their marriage. It was designed like a dragon wing, encrusted with rubies and diamonds. It was a lovely piece, quite elegant and it suited her perfectly.

 

“Will this be the crown used for your coronation?” He asked.

 

“No, that will be Aegon’s crown.”

“Oh, I see.”

 

The conversation grew more boring and Dany tried to stifle her yawns. She was getting sleepy and watched Arya attempting not to fall asleep on the table. Gendry let her lean on her shoulder and she dozed off on his shoulder. Daenerys smiled and looked over at Jon. He opened his arm and she leaned into his arm and nuzzled against his chest. Jon kissed the top of her head and turned to see Lord Bracken giving them a disapproving look.

 

“Are you tired?”

 

“Not at all. Although, I wouldn’t mind running away with you.”

 

Jon cocked an eyebrow. “What a delightful thought…”

 

Their lips connected briefly, promising more for later.

 

“I thought…”

 

“Yes?” He asked.

 

“If we were to have another child…” Jon gave her a wicked smile. “When should we?”

 

“Perhaps in two or three years.”

“Sounds reasonable.” She answered. “A good age difference for siblings.”

 

“And we need time to settle in as parents.” Dany couldn’t help but to agree. Riverrun’s bard, a man named Serj, chimed in with Bard Ramin to play a song for the couple. As soon as the band started playing, the hair on Sansa’s neck rose.

 

“One night, I hold on you

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, you

Castamere, Castamere, Castamere, Castamere” Serj sung in his deep voice, strumming his instrument. Sansa went pale, grabbing the handle of her chair. Jaime saw her face and wore a puzzled song on his face.

 

“A coat of gold, a coat of red

A lion still has claws

And mine are long and sharp, my Lord

As long and sharp as yours”

 

He could see Bronn standing on the table, shouting the lyrics of the song loudly with Tyrion. At least someone was having fun. Sansa was still looking at the band with sadness.

 

“And so he spoke, and so he spoke

That Lord of Castamere

And now the rains weep o'er his halls

With no one there to hear

Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls

And not a soul to hear…” Serj sung, followed with the broken voices of Bronn and Tyrion. Sansa got up, picked her skirts up and left, running through the halls her mother learned to walk in as a girl. Jaime got up and went after her. Jon tried to follow, but Jaime stopped him. He ran after Sansa, who came to a window and grabbed it. Jaime took her hand and she flinched.

 

“Why did you play that song?”

 

“It is tradition for my family, Sansa.”

“Did you know it was playing when they murdered my Lady Mother and brother at the Twins?”

 

“I had no idea…” Jaime said. “I must apologise for this, Sansa. Had I known, I wouldn’t have allowed it. You have my word.”

 

“The word of an Oathbreaker.”

 

Jaime looked down. “You don’t know that the Mad King wanted to blow up King’s Landing?”

 

She stopped and shook her head. “I did my duty to the people, Sansa, not to my family.”

 

Sansa realised she’s been serving House Stark only, not the smallfolk. “I see. I’m sorry, Ser Jaime.”

 

“Jaime.” He said. “I’ve been named Jaime by my father and Uncle Jason. Jaime because it resembled Joanna.”

 

She had a sad look on her face. “I see.”

 

“I know I cannot bring your family back and wash off the crimes of my father and sister, but I can try being a good husband to you, and perhaps, someday, if you want, a good father to our children.”

 

Sansa looked down. “It will take me a while for that.”

 

“Whatever you need, I’ll provide it for you.”

 

“I just don’t want to be seen as broken goods, Jaime.”

 

“Broken goods? I don’t have a hand!” He laughed, poking her rib. He used to do that with Cersei when they were children and sometimes even with Myrcella. He missed her, dearly. Jaime offered her an arm and they walked back to their wedding feast.

 

After two moons of traveling, a caravan and three dragons and a direwolf arrived in King’s Landing. Jon took in the sight of his new home. Perhaps, with Dany and their boy, he’d grown used to this place. Dany explained to him that she spent mere weeks there before going north and fighting with him, so this was new to her too. Her coronation was in two weeks, but first, Cersei Lannister was to be put on trial. Bran Stark couldn’t attend, so Jon would represent the North, as its King. For Dorne, Doran Martell had travelled just for this, then Olenna would be there for the Reach and Edmure of the Riverlands. Young Lord Arryn was there too, Gendry and Arya were settling in and Jaime would represent the West. Daenerys would be the judge, the lords the jury, Tyrion the prosecutor.

 

It was the night before the trial, Sansa was having dinner with Arya and Gendry. The Duke of the Stormlands was discussing his impeding move to Storm’s End as Arya put down her fork.

 

“Sansa, there is something you need to know. Gendry and I are expecting.”

 

She clapped in excitement. “Congratulations! Another niece or nephew! Have you decided upon a name?”

 

“Yes… We thought, if it’s a boy, we’d name hm Robb.”

 

Sansa gave her a grin. “And a girl?”

 

“Lyanna or Catelyn.”

 

“I approve of all of your choices. How far along are you?”

 

“Four moons.” Arya said. “There is even a teeny weeny bump if you look closely.” She got up and lifted her tunic, revealing a scared belly. She turned to the side.

 

“Can you see it?”

 

“Arya! We’re at dinner!”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

She shook her head. “And tomorrow, the bitch goes on trial. She’s been treated far too nice in this prison.”

 

“Agreed.” Gendry said. “I’ve heard she got Robert with a boar.”

 

“To be fair, he was a lousy husband.” Sansa said, leaning back.

 

“I didn’t know. Perhaps he deserved it.” Gendry answered. Sansa got up and thanked them for dinner and told them she has some matters to attend to.  Sansa fixed her dress, a lovely dark green number with wolf embroidery. She walked over to the Maidenvault and told the guards she wants to speak to the prisoner. The guard nodded an opened the door, revealing bars set over it. Cersei sat there, nursing a bottle of wine. She turned to see Sansa and her eyes turned into slits.

 

“You whore.”

 

“I’ve missed you too, Cersei.”

 

“Don’t you dare call me by my name. I am a Queen.”

 

“Queen of what? The last time I’ve seen, The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms is Daenerys Targaryen, mother to a legitimate heir to the throne. Can you imagine?” Sansa walked closer to the bars, leaning on them. She extended one hand through the bars and showed her ring off.

 

“Tell me, do you recognise this?” She asked, showing the sparkling ring off. Cersei got up and walked over. Her brows furrowed.

 

“Where the hell did you get that?”

 

“My husband gave it to me when we got betrothed. Jaime, that is.”

 

Cersei’s face went pale. “That ring belonged to my mother, you whore.”

 

“I know. And he gave it to me. My Lord Husband.” She smirked. “I took the one thing you loved the most, Cersei. I won.” She turned away. “Guards, close the door. I’m done here.”

 

“You whore!”

 

“It’s Lady Lannister now. I’m the Duchess of the Westerlands and Lady of Casterly Rock now. What does it feel like?”

 

Cersei sank onto her knees. Sansa turned and walked away, finally at peace with herself. In the morning, the jury, judge and prosecutor were sat around the round table. In the middle was a hole and a pathway that lead to that position, for witnesses. Cersei was to be sat at chair in chains across the room. Daenerys breathed in and out. This was the final thing she had to do before officially becoming ruler and Queen. She got up and started reciting the accusations.

 

“Lady Cersei Lannister, you stand accused of regicide, kinslaying, plotting, treason and mass murder. How do you plead?” She asked in a stern voice, attempting to remain calm and composed. Cersei moved in her chair, a smirk appearing on her lips. Prince Doran’s lips tightened. He raised his head.

 

“A long time ago, I only cared who gave the order of murdering Elia. I imagine Robert’s wife and Tywin’s daughter knew. And then you took my son from me. My son!” He spat, tears in his eyes. “You put him down like he was some animal and threw his corpse in Blackwater Bay! You tried to harm my nieces, as if killing their father wasn’t enough!” Doran Martell was an imposing one. The last head of a Great House from before the war standing, everyone was aware he was in for the long game. What drew him out of Sunspear was the death of his only son and heir at the hands of Cersei Lannister for Myrcella catching scarlet fever, a common illness in Dorne. The girl passed under Doran’s roof, with the Archmaester watching over her, alas, with no use. She died and gone was the last of Cersei’s humanity.

 

For vengeance, the blood of the young Trystane Martell was sufficient. He had been a good one, his son. Barely five and ten, he adored Myrcella with his entire heart. He called her his wife already, although they were to wed in many years. Saddened, he begged to deliver her body back, but he died, his hand sent back to his father from Cersei. That had been the last straw.

 

Now Jaime shifted in his chair. “It was my father, Tywin Lannister. He had Elia’s blood on his hands.”

 

“As well as the blood of my brother’s children.”

 

“She has my son’s blood on her hands. She is no better than that father of yours, Ser Jaime.”

 

“How do you answer?” Daenerys asked again.

 

“Not guilty.” She spoke, ice lacing her voice. “Robert’s wife? You mean the man who wept after some dead Northern girl and beat me as if I was a servant? Tywin’s daughter? The father who ignored because I wasn’t a son? They’re all dad for a reason now.”

 

“Wasn’t Robert Baratheon attacked by a boar?” Asked Gendry.

 

“And Ned Stark framed because he found out the truth about you?” Asked Jon now.

 

She chuckled again. “Ned Stark was a fool. An honourable fool. Too good for this world. It was a mercy killing.”

 

Jon’s hand clenched against the arm of his chair. Daenerys touched his hand. “So you admit your crimes?”

 

“I admit what I had to do to survive. Hadn’t I killed Robert, he would have taken me to my early grave sooner or later, perhaps even discard me like Rhaegar did with Elia for some younger girl. Hadn’t I gotten rid of Ned Stark, he’d harm my children.”

 

“My father would never harm a child.” Jon spoke, firmly.

 

“And how was I to know that? And Tywin Lannister… Where do I begin with that one? Perhaps from his son, Tyrion? I see even a vile little creature like you can make it in this world, even after kinslaying.”

 

“I killed Father, but Joffrey is not on me.”

“It was me.” Spoke Olenna. “Now that monster had to be put down. He would have been another Aerys II hadn’t I urged. I must apologise to Princess Sansa for being our scapegoat.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “The next time be more frank about your murders.”

 

Olenna closed her eyes, shaking her head. “What shall be the sentence, Your Grace?”

 

Daenerys turned to Tyrion. “My Lord Hand and I talked.”

 

“There is only one more fate worse than death. Living alone and forgotten, knowing all of those who you once loved are happy and content.” Spoke Tyrion.

 

“Cersei Lannister, I, Daenerys Stormborn, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, sentence you to banishment in the Free Cities.”

 

“I’ve seen the worst life has to offer, little girl.” She spat. “You don’t scare me.”

 

“Take her.” She spoke. The guards carried Cersei away, Dany closing her eyes. Alas, she was safe.

 

The morning of the coronation finally came. Daenerys was awoken by Jon who told her it is time to start preparations. Jon wore a dark blue gambeson, embroidered with wolf heads. Longclaw at his hip, a crown on his head and a one-shoulder cloak on his back and he was ready for the big day. Little baby Jaeherys was sleeping in his crib, unaware of the big day. Dany sat by her vanity, Missandei reading a list of her duties for the day and the tour around the city she’d take. Dany listened carefully while the maid brushed out her long hair. No braids, as she was to get crowned today. Her coronation dress was a special. Twenty seamstresses worked on it. It was as white as snow, embroidered with a mix of the emblems of her Kingdoms, with dragons intertwined with them. It had a long train and her shoulders were bare, with long, heavy sleeves covering the back of her arms, because the front was slit to reveal them. It was quite tight around the waist, corseted. This was the main gown, underneath was a light, white shift which served as the anointing gown. The handmaid put in small earrings, the ones Jon gifted her when they were betrothed at first. He watched her, getting dressed, a Queen from the tales.

 

“Jon, I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

 

“Of being a bad Queen.”

 

“I doubt that, honestly. You already saved the realm once.”

 

She frowned. “What if that is not enough?”

 

“It is. Remember what I swore to you?”

 

He knelt in front of her, kissing her hands. “My sword is yours, my heart is yours, I am yours.”

 

She pressed their foreheads together. “I’ll never leave alone, Dany. A wise man told me once that a Targaryen alone in the world is a horrible thing.”

 

She nodded. “Shall we begin, then?”

 

Dany was walked into the New Sept by her husband who let her walk down the remaining part of the isle alone. Everyone was there, even Prince Doran stayed to bear witness to this historic moment. Dany walked slowly to the three septons standing in front of the altar. They bowed to her.

 

“Madam, is Your Majesty willing to take the Oath?”

 

And the Queen answering,

 

“I am willing.” Her voice loud and clear. The three men approached her.

 

Then he turned to the crowds.

 

“Sirs, I here present unto you

Queen Daenerys,

your undoubted Queen:

Wherefore all you who are come this day

to do your homage and service,

Are you willing to do the same?”

 

The people signify their willingness and joy, by loud and repeated acclamations, all with one voice crying out:

 

“Gods Save Queen Daenerys!”

 

The Book of the Seven was brought to Daenerys and she signed it. The altar boy took it away and she was led by her trainbearers behind the altar. When she emerged again, she was clad only in the soft white shift, light as a feather. She looked like ethereal. Jon watched with pride was they took her to the throne and covered it with a canopy. The choir sung in prayer and everyone closed their eyes in respect. After the prayer, the High Septon turned to seven children, all carrying one holy oil. Another priest carried Aegon’s cloak, which Queen Rhaella hid on Dragonstone. It was made out heavy silver fabric, embroidered with red dragons. First, the High Septon blessed her in the name of the Seven with each oil.

 

“Be thou blessed and anointed, Queen of our people. As Aegon was anointed with Seven holy oils.”

 

Daenerys nodded and rose as her maids cloaked her again, this time in Aegon’s cloak. She sat down again. It was time for the actual coronation. The choir started chanting again. First, she was given her sword and sceptre. The crown, carried on a pillow, came into her view. The High Septon took it and rose it high above her head. Then, he placed it on her head and the crowd started chanting again.

 

“Gods Save The Queen!” They shouted seven times. Then the lords came to swear fealty. After, Dany went to change back into her coronation gown and walked out of the Sept, the crown now on her head. The crowds went wild, chanting and clapping for her. There she stood, their Queen.