Actions

Work Header

Believe in

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

 

She was trying hard to not be expectant and to not disclose any eagerness, but after that conversation with Missandei, she dared to have an insignificant little speck of hope. Was she being silly? Naive? Maybe she was. But if she thought about it, she was just a young woman. Is it really a sin for me to desire and dream? 

 

As she pondered to herself more, the ridiculousness of it washed over her. She had made peace with the role she had to play in life; she wasn’t allowed to crave superficial wishes. She was born to be the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains, she couldn’t afford to have weaknesses and foolish wants. She mustn’t cry or fail. She has too many people depending on her. I need to be their strength when they need it.

 

“Your Grace, our watchtowers reported a Stark ship five leagues away from here. They expect it will arrive tomorrow at noon.” Varys said.

 

She turned from the balcony to the painted table where her master of whispers, her hand and Missandei sat.

 

“Have the servants prepare rooms for them. I don’t foresee they’ll be more than a dozen,” she replied.

 

Tyrion was drinking the wine as he asked, “Your Grace do you know much about the Starks?”

 

“I’ve read about Brandon the Builder, the Winter Kings, and Torrhen Stark. But after the rebellion I’ve read small amounts about them, so no,” she answered. She went to her chair, sat down and grabbed a glass.

 

“Well, let’s say that if for every wrongdoing done to you, you’d get a coin. The Starks would be quite rich right now. My family has toyed with them. My sister’s son killed Ned Stark on false accusations and tormented Sansa for years. Robb, the Stark heir, began a war against us. He was winning plenty of battles until he broke an oath by marrying another woman besides Walder Frey’s daughter. They butchered him and his whole army in a wedding at the twins.” she scowled at that. 

 

Tyrion had mentioned of the betrayal from the Boltons but he hadn’t explained the circumstances.

 

“The Greyjoys had been pillaging for decades the western shores of the North and they took Winterfell. Even their own bannermen as I have told you already.” She nodded sipping from the wine cup that rested on the table. 

 

“If everything goes well, Westeros won’t see deceit, betrayal and backstabbing if I can prevent it,” she stated.

 

“It’s easier said than done,” Tyrion noted.

 

“My lord, you’d agree that I have faced greater odds. Peace and prosperity shouldn’t be an impossible feat.”

 

“Your Grace, of all the people here, you know best how different is taking a throne from ruling it. And if our history is of any sign, our council needs to improve on certain aspects to make the dream of peace and prosperity a reality. Mereen was a test. This is the real deal. And believe me when I say that it won’t be easier.” her hand declared.

 

Tyrion’s undermining of her capabilities slightly irritated her. But she decided not to comment. I mean, Mereen had been different. I was a foreigner. I had to rule and learn a city and its culture and abolish the slave trade. But was she really a westerosi? Would she know her people and understand them? Honestly, she didn’t realise exactly who she was. There was a time she considered herself a bravoosi. Then she became a Khaleesi. Then the Queen of Mereen. And now... the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But she was certain on one part. She had remained a Targaryen through all of it.

 

“So tell me my lord Hand. Have you come up with solutions for our lack of skill in ruling?” she said half sarcastic.

 

He sighed. “Right now, the only thing we can do is to entertain the court. Perhaps some festivities. Speaking of it, I had a brilliant idea,” he grinned as he poured more wine for the people present.

 

“Dragonstone, as of now, is home to an enormous amount of nobles. As important as they may be, they are boring, self-righteous and quite frankly lacking in the intelligence and culture department. So let us organise evenings of knowledge and intellect, where we invite everyone that has anything exceptional to show or teach. There can be literature, new inventions, philosophy...” the Spider cut him off.

 

“My lord I won’t deny that intelligence and learning are important, but I must remind you, we are at war. We mustn’t distract ourselves from the main focus.”

 

Varys was right. she couldn’t entertain other matters besides the war. But she admitted that Tyrion’s idea intrigued her. She always had a love for books since she was a child. The wonders she saw in the free cities and throughout Essos had sparked her interest in science, magic and arts.

 

“But that is where you are wrong, Lord Varys. You and I both understand that knowledge is power. Imagine what we could discover if we invite anyone from the lowest peasant to the richest king from around the world to spread their beliefs and findings. And, besides, our war isn’t just soldiers, lands and gold; it’s most importantly the people. Our greatest disadvantage is that we are too diverse. On one hand, that’s something positive, on the other, the Lords of Westeros won’t relate to your Essosi folk. These gatherings not only would develop relations and make them more receptive towards these cultures but also will help us know what these nobles are made of.”

 

Everyone stared at him. Varys first apprehensive now accepting the proposal.

 

“I see the merit in this endeavour, my Queen. Most people judge our kind mostly because they don’t understand or know about us.” Missandei admitted.

 

“Very well. I’ve always had an interest in higher studies and arts. At least it will make the court less dull. Organise these every week. And Varys would you spread the word through Westeros and Essos?”

 

“Your Grace,” he nodded.

 

“Also, your Grace, I have some military propositions,” Tyrion said. Dany acknowledged for him to continue.

 

“Dragonstone sits nearly 400 miles from King’s Landing. Not a short distance but still not a long one. I’d say the possibilities of an attack are high. I advise arming the turrets on the surrounding walls with trebuchets, catapults and scorpions and reinforce the postern gates.”

 

“That is sound advice my Lord, but we don’t have the wealth to spend in such a task. And I definitely want to keep a big amount safe for emergencies,” she responded.

 

“I understand my Queen. Maybe start slowly on this project and as the money comes in from the trade and taxes, we continue on.” her hand suggested.

 

“Fine. Search for carpenters, smiths and stonemasons,” Tyrion nodded and noted it on his parchment. “Now that’s settled, is there any news that I must know?” she asked.

 

“Not that I know of, your Grace,” Varys replied. Her hand acknowledged that there had been no new ravens.

 

“Then the council is dismissed until further notice,” Everyone besides Missandei left. 

 

She stared at the table frowning at it. Conquering seemed much more one-dimensional, ruling had so many underlinings to it.

 

“Your Grace is stressed. Shall I have the servants draw a bath for you?” she asked.

 

“Yes, please. Thank you Missandei.” She was left alone then.

 

She exited the chamber and headed towards the throne room. There were a dozen people strolling throughout. She spotted a plump little fellow garbed in dark blue clothes.

 

“Your Grace... it’s... a pleasure... to meet you,” he stuttered and quickly adding “I’m Duram Bar Emmon, Lord of Sharp Point,” he declared while kissing her hand. She smirked at the nervousness of the boy. He must be some years younger than her.

 

“The pleasure is all mine, my Lord. I thank you for your presence and loyalty to House Targaryen,” she replied with a sweet grin.

 

“Well, your Grace lauds me... It was the least we could do. Queen Cersei wouldn’t stop raising taxes and demanding our troops and resources.” he confessed with a nervous half-smile.

 

“I intend to end that. Until then, we have a war to win, and I’m sure you understand the risks you take by siding with me being so close to the enemy.” she cautioned.

 

“Of course, your Grace. My house is ready to deal with whatever comes,” he said with increased confidence.

 

She smiled at him marvelling at the young spirit behind this boy. “I’m sure you will.” With that, she continued on the hall stopping to nod at a few lords and ladies that bowed before her. 

 

She observed three fellows, two of them blatantly gawking at her. She found it amusing but revealed nothing while strolling forward with a calm queenly posture. She lifted her eyebrow as she didn’t get any response from the men in front of her. That had roused them from their state, shaking their heads a bit and taking a hold of themselves. They muttered in unison as they bowed.

 

“Your Grace.” 

 

“My lords.” she acknowledged.

 

“I’m Leo Blackbar, Lord of Bandallon, your Grace,” a quiet, dainty man. With dark brown hair, pale skin and blue eyes. Doesn’t appear weak, but would rather pick a book than a sword.

 

“And I’m Mathis Rowan, Lord of Goldengrove and Marshall of the Northmarch, your Grace,” a confident one, borderline arrogant she could sense. With ashy blond locks, olive eyes and an immaculate physique. Though she had to concede, he wasn’t a dreadful sight.

 

“Baelor Hightower, heir to Leyton, Lord of the Hightower and Beacon of the South at your service, my Queen.” a charming fellow, of similar age to her. With Brown honey locks, blueish-green eyes and a lean figure. The one that seemed the least boot-licker of the three. Not as comely as Lord Rowan, but a beautiful radiant smile adorned his face.

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you all, and House Targaryen is immensely grateful for the loyalty of your Houses, my lords. It won’t be forgotten,” she said.

 

“The thrill is ours, your Grace.” Lord Rowan stared at her intensely while reaching for her hand, “ever since I first learned of the exiled Targaryen’s stories of her conquest and beauty I’ve hoped to one day meet and swear fealty. And the time has finally come.” he said while laying a kiss on her fingers. 

 

She wasn’t wooed and wouldn’t be. The same old game she had experienced from multiple men. The expressions of disgust from Lord Blackbar and disinterest from Lord Hightower amused her. 

 

“You flatter me, my Lord, but I’d argue my beauty is as formidable as you say. There are countless beautiful women around the world. I’ve heard even pleasure houses, particularly in Lys, have more extraordinarily lovely women,” she said knowingly.

 

He flared his nostrils slightly looking a bit ashamed and angered. “It is indeed quite a popular business that sometimes ensnares men leaving them addicted.” She wondered why had Varys shared so many uninteresting gossips of the Westerosi Lords, but now she understood how useful they could be. Lord Blackbar was containing his laughter while Baelor Hightower was smirking.

 

“My Queen, I wanted to inform you on behalf of my father that Houses Peake and Tarly have both allied themselves with the Lannister usurper,” said Baelor.

 

This news surprised her; she had to talk to Olenna about it; she thought only some northern houses had turned to Cersei’s side.

 

“Thank you for the information, my lord, I’ll speak with Lady Tyrell as soon as I can,” he nodded respectfully. 

 

“Something must be done to these treacherous Houses. When the Reach army is deployed, I can lead the front against them in your name, my Queen.” Lord Rowan proposed.

 

“I praise your bravery, my lord, but your house is in the northern part of the Reach. And, besides, this campaign should present itself to be quite complicated I wouldn’t want to burden you with such a task. You’ll be able to defend the northern Marches as your title mentions,” she responded. He relented and didn’t insist more on it. 

 

“My lords,” she bent her head.

 

“Your Grace,” they bowed.

 

She dismissed them and continued on toward her room. As she opened the tall iron cladded doors, she noticed the mist floating up from the wide copper tub in the centre of her chambers. Missandei had already laid out the oils and brushes.

 

“You are a gem, my dear,” she said, smiling sweetly at her friend.

 

She stripped away from her clothes and submerged herself in the scalding water. Her handmaiden started running her hands on her scalp. She almost fell asleep at the sensation as she began on relaxing and daydreaming about the future.

 

__________________

 

JON SNOW

 

Dragons.

 

Everywhere. 

 

But unfortunately still not in the sky. They were approaching the island where Dragonstone sat. The sculpted dragons embellished every aspect of the coastal fortress, in the castle, in rock formations, on cliffs. Something like this today would cost large amounts of money, not even the Lannisters were able to afford. The spires reached out into the clouds, circled with stone dragons. 

 

From where he was, the curtain walls looked similar to a star arranged in triangles around the main fortress. It was quite spectacular and intimidating. But Jon has seen enough to be afraid of blocks of rock. 

 

The skiffs were nearing the shore and he could see already a retinue of people. As they got closer, he could spot Tyrion Lannister. His long-ago companion in the journey to the wall. He had to admit, back then he admired the dwarf very much, and learned a valuable lesson from him.

 

Never forget who you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour so it can never be used to hurt you. 

 

He was curious about how a Lannister had come to advise the last Targaryen. They jumped off the skiffs and made it to shore. They walked further inland and stopped in front of Tyrion, a woman with a halo-like hair and some men with olive-skin whom he presumed to be the Dothraki.

 

“Bastard of Winterfell,” the little man greeted.

 

“Dwarf of Casterly Rock,” Jon answered. Tyrion smirked at that, and Jon smiled while shaking hands.

 

“We last saw each other on top of the wall while I pissed off the edge,” the imp said.

 

“How times have changed,” Jon said, somewhat sombrely.

 

“Indeed, they have. My sister was still a spoiled child and your face was pristine. Now she’s a spoiled queen and your face a ragged training dummy,” he chuckled at that.

 

“You’re one to talk.” 

 

He pointed at his scar that travelled across his forehead, nose and cheek, “Blackwater Bay. Speaking of it. Greetings, Ser Davos. I hope we are on neutral grounds despite previous disputes.”

 

“I know ye were merely doing your duty. But I lost my son in that war. I might forgive, but I’ll never forget it rest assured,” he explained.

 

“I understand.” He looked at the tips of his shoes with guilt. He then turned to the woman beside him and announced, “Now let me introduce you to Missandei of Naath, the Queen’s most trusted advisor and friend.” She was graced with a humble smile and brown big eyes.

 

“Our Queen is grateful for your presence my Lords,” she said.

 

“Pardon me, my Lady. I don’t know if you are aware but you are speaking to a king, not a lord.” Davos pointed out.

 

The woman looked confused by this; she turned to Tyrion, and he after a second relented and nodded to her.

 

“Please accept my apologies, your Grace,” she added, worried she might have offended him.

 

“It is fine my Lady, titles and pleasantries are the least of my concerns.” he smiled making her at ease.

 

“I must ask for you to turn in your weapons,” she requested.

 

Jon looked apprehensive about it. They were the ones at a disadvantage; they wouldn’t be able to do anything even if they were armed with their swords.

 

“Your Grace can keep his sword, it would be untasteful of us to demand it from you,” the Dwarf reasoned.

 

He was still sceptical of this but relented, anyway.

 

Tyrion widened his eyes and Jon looked back watching Ghost hop from one skiff and starting to run around the beach.

 

“By the Gods is that you’re direwolf?” the dwarf asked. He smiled proudly as he continued on gazing at his companion.

 

“Aye, it is. I couldn’t leave him at Winterfell,” he explained.

 

“My god he has grown, he’s almost as tall as a horse. Don’t tell me you ride him into battle?” Tyrion joked. He laughed at him turning back to Ghost to see him running away to some woods.

 

They began their climb towards the keep. Three hundred steps winding up a narrow cliff. The scenery was beautiful, clear water clashed with the grey stone from the cliffs that turned to green grass and trees, and the blue sky above filled with white clouds. 

 

“It’s weird hearing you say it,” he confessed.

 

Tyrion turns to him, “Say what? Your Grace?” he asked. Jon nodded.

 

“Well, It’s weird for me also, you’ll always be the bastard of Winterfell I found slashing his troubles away at a dummy,” he smiled nostalgically at the memory. He remembered those times how everything was so simple, and his darkest fears were so small in comparison.

 

“And you’ll always be a drunken whore mongering intelligent dwarf.” he joked.

 

Tyrion laughed at that “I’m afraid the whore part I left in the past.”

 

“I’m sure you did.” he quipped.

 

“Well well, if it isn’t the sombre Jon Snow making jokes. I took you for a brooding fellow.” Tyrion admitted.

 

“Don’t worry a big portion of the time I still am. I guess must be the good weather,” he said looking out at the landscape, smiling.

 

“Indeed, you and your ships have brought clear skies. Until today it had been raining for weeks on end.” 

 

“I’m glad I could be of any use then,” Jon answered.

 

Tyrion laughed at that as he patted his arm. They continued on the long climb talking about their lives and Sansa. The man had made sure to clarify everything that needed explaining. Jon didn’t want to hear anything about it, but he insisted on the fact that their marriage was unconsummated.

 

They were nearing the main gate to the courtyard. Tyrion turned to him furrowing his forehead. “It was very brave of you to come south to meet with us, I must admit.”

 

“I have urgent matters that were worth the risk,” he explained.

 

Tyrion looked intrigued by that and added, “Well whatever it is you have still doesn’t erase the bad history the Starks are known for when going south.”

 

“That’s true. But I’m not a Stark.” 

 

The second he said that a huge beast landed on a cliff next to the gate. A DRAGON. Oh shit... fear crossed his face, but then he was in awe as the creature peered at them perched on the outcrop. He watched amazed as the dragon roared and took to the skies once again. Jon looked at Davos, and he stared at him with an astonished look. They were actually real. He glanced at the skies again and there were three of them circling the island.

 

“I’d say you get used to them. But you never really do,” said Tyrion.

 

They entered the fortress and he could point out all types of people running around the courtyard, dark- and light-skinned, foreign and westerosi, servant, soldier and noble. It was astonishing really to see such great diversity in one place. Jon had never seen someone that didn’t look remotely northern or plain westerosi. He thought then how much he was missing out of the world. A strange mood of fear and regret washed over him. He didn’t know if it was the fact he would be meeting the last Targaryen or how misplaced he felt. Would she have an upper hand on him? Would he make a fool of himself? What if she took him for a child scared of nighttime stories?

 

He reminded himself not to start doubting. He was already here he would make the best of it.

 

“I won’t say much to you, because I want you to judge her by yourself. But I’ll just warn you she has never had a peaceful life. Since she was born she has been on the run, living in horrible conditions and sometimes starving. You and I know how honourable Ned Stark was. But she dealt with the consequences of the rebellion first hand. Don’t forget that.” Tyrion advised as they reached the tall iron doors to what he presumed was the great hall. 

 

He nodded, understanding the circumstances, but still, it did not make the uprising any less valid against her father. It’s true, her family didn’t deserve what happened to them. If he was in Robert Baratheon’s place, he would have never allowed such acts of terror.

 

Tyrion went in and two men, garbed in strange-looking armour, closed the doors behind him. He looked at Davos and he smiled reassuringly. Jon just wanted to be done with this if he was honest. He didn’t want Ghost causing any trouble; He sensed him not that far away from him, hopefully, he will stay far from people. Another soldier exited the room, announcing their time to enter.

 

He strolled ahead with his advisor following him. His mantle waved around him as he took strides down the long chamber. It was big. Tall and narrow with huge slim windows. Looking up, he was amazed at what he saw. The arches that supported the ceiling were all connected with a sculpted dragon’s spine. The skull was at the back of the hall right above the throne with windows all around it. As he looked down where the dragon head pointed, he noticed her. He still couldn’t see many details, but he immediately spotted the platinum blond locks. 

 

She was sat in the throne clothed in dark red and ashy fabrics that flared in front of her. There were plenty of lords along the galleries, but he was most intrigued by the figure in the centre. As he neared the dais, he was dumbfounded. Shit, she was truly breathtaking... With striking violet eyes and delicate features, her hair in waves cascading around her face. She stared at him grey eyes meeting violet ones. He could notice neither arrogance nor meekness on her face. She looked like a Dragon Queen, that was the only description he could give.

 

The woman that had greeted them at the beach stood now to the right side of the dais and announced. 

 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains.” she finished finally.

 

It dawned on him that he hadn’t planned this part. He betrayed a look of slight embarrassment and looked to Davos for help. 

 

He caught on and announced, “I present to you, Jon Snow,” he said simply. 

 

It didn’t matter to him his titles and whatnot but he wouldn’t be undermined, so he glimpsed over his shoulder indicating to add a little more. “Son of House Stark, King in the North and the Gift and Protector of the Northern Kingdom.” Davos stared at Jon for approval and he nodded his thanks.

 

He glanced back at the woman sitting on the throne. She looked slightly amused; If he didn’t look with more care, he would have been angered by her smugness. But it was a gaze of nostalgic resemblance, he could sense. Like she saw in them what she once was. A new leader trying to establish a name for herself. 

 

A silence fell in the hall only quiet little whispers from lords were heard. She raised her eyebrows slightly starting a conversation between them. He creased his forehead challenging her. She squinted, wanting to see where this would go. He tilted his head lightly asking silently if she wanted to continue this. She sized him up then, and with a forced smile, she relented.

 

“Your Grace,” she nodded.

 

“Your Grace,” he returned the favour.

 

“Forgive my assumptions, King Jon, but I presumed the long journey you took to be here was to pledge allegiance to my cause, or have I presumed wrongly?” she asked intrigued.

 

“No, your Grace, I have not come here with that intent,” he stated matter-of-factly.

 

She sneered and clenched her jaw. “Then may I ask why you’ve burdened yourself with such a venture?”

 

“I wanted to discuss an alliance with you, your Grace,” he said.

 

“I appreciate your intentions, but you see I’m currently on a campaign to regain my family’s throne that was stolen from us. That throne encompasses the northernmost Kingdom.” She said, lifting her head slightly.

 

“It’s not in my best interest to oppose you, Your Grace, but...” he was cut off by a lord to the far left.

 

“Then why don’t you show the deserved respect and bend the knee to her highness?” he half-shouted. Some lords gasped at the display. He was readying himself to respond when the Queen cut him to it.

 

“Lord Rowan, if you have no significant input to add, don’t intervene at all. This conversation is between me and his Grace, so I’d advise to not disturb it unless called for,” she lectured the man.

 

“My Queen I was only trying to defend your Grace’s honour...” he started but was interrupted by the Queen saying, “My lord I have an army a hundred thousand strong and three dragons. If I needed defending I’d have it already,” that had shut him up. He couldn’t stop his mouth twitching from amusement.

 

“But, my liege is right,” that had put him in a more sombre mood. “Why would you travel all this way just to break faith with House Targaryen?”

 

“Break faith?” he asked incredulously. “Your father murdered my grandfather, he burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the seven...”

 

“My father was an evil man,” she cut him off. That surprised him. He had his mouth opened slightly, not knowing what to say or respond to that. Thankfully, she continued on.

 

“On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes committed against your family. And I ask you to not judge a daughter by the sins of her father.” The same words he had said in favour of Alys Karstark and Ned Umber felt like a slap in his face. 

 

“Our Houses were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the seven kingdoms have ever known, with a Targaryen on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North,” she would continue but Davos spoke up. 

 

“Your Grace, apologies, I have a thick fleabottom accent I know, but you mention the Targaryen reign to be an era of prosperity and peace. I won’t say the times before that were better because, aye, they sure weren’t. But during the dynasty, the seven kingdoms experienced two civil wars, dozens of uprisings, and suffered from a handful of mad kings.” She flared her nostrils at that and bore her eyes on him. “I’m confident you are a competent ruler, and your House’s history doesn’t represent you, but if so, using that argument is of no relevance.”

 

“I’m sorry...”

 

“Ser Davos Seaworth, your Grace,” Tyrion pointed out.

 

“Forgive me Ser Davos, but I, unfortunately, have never received a formal education. But despite what you just mention, I could’ve sworn that the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?” The tone in her voice irritated him slightly. He sensed their patience dropping with the time passing.

 

“I wasn’t there, your Grace,” Davos responded.

 

“No,” she smiled, “Of course not, but still, an oath is an oath. And perpetuity means, what does perpetuity mean Lord Tyrion?” she asked smugly.

 

“Forever,” he answered.

 

“Forever,” she repeated satisfied.

 

He looked downwards anger starting to boil inside him, “You are wrong.” he said as he glanced up at her, “The last King in the North was my half-brother Robb Stark who, after our people had been toyed by your southern houses,” he added as he gazed at all the nobles gathered, “Declared the North independent from the Iron Throne. His death hasn’t changed that.”

 

The frustration was plain on her face, and the cool diplomatic mask was gone. She was staring daggers at him as she fidgeted with her fingers.

 

“Then why are you here?” she asked finally.

 

He sighed and looked around the room. “This doesn’t matter. The Iron Throne doesn’t matter. Petty disputes don’t matter. Westeros will encounter an enemy like it hasn’t seen in thousands of years. There’s a threat to the North, and if we don’t bound together despite our differences, or who is King or Queen, we’ll all die.”

 

The hall was quiet for a second before he could hear giggling. Then some lords started outright laughing at him. And the room was filled with murmuring and snickering. A sadness came over him. Of course, they wouldn’t believe me, I must sound like a fool. He looked at the Queen she was staring at him, she... she was looking for something? She glanced at both of his eyes back and forth trying to find what she was searching for but she didn’t as she widened her eyes slightly for a millisecond only he noticed. Rage consumed her face, was it because of him? He didn’t think so. He felt like it was because of the situation, but she had to lash that anger out at someone.

 

“Silence all of you!” her voice boomed around the chamber, sending a chill up his spine.

 

“Qelbar Genes, see that our court is brought to their respective chambers,” she said still looking at him. He could hear protests from some lords, but eventually, the hall was quiet, with only him, Davos, Tyrion, the Queen and her friend, and a couple of soldiers. She stood. Oh, shit... She started strolling slowly towards him.

 

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember. Only a couple of days later, I was shipped off to Bravvos. I spent some time there, the happiest I’ve been, with a home, a bed and people who loved me. Am I correct to assume you were raised in Winterfell?” she inquired with an eerie calm to her voice.

 

“Aye,” he responded.

 

“Did you have a bed while you grew up? Food at your table? A roof to call home?” she asked again, now starting to climb down the stairs of the dais.

 

“I wasn’t allowed to eat with the Stark family but, aye, I had all that,” he confessed.

 

“Yes, it’s sad that our world shames a babe for the circumstances of their birth. Dwarves, bastards, dragonspawn... it is not right for a child or adult to be ashamed of that,” this slightly surprised him. He guessed in Essos the customs were less strict than in Westeros.

 

Fire replaced the calm.

 

Her demeanour was fire materialised.

 

“The thing you just described as meaningless made me and my brother flee from assassins all our lives. For us to live in the streets and sewers of the free cities and villages we stopped by. For us to spend days hungry for a piece of bread. For me to be sold like a broodmare, be chained, betrayed, raped and defiled throughout my life. The Iron Throne was the reason for that!” she was two feet from him. He could see her violet eyes full of rage.

 

“Not only that, but it is the reason for all the lives that become crushed by the wheel of power that rules the realm. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will. To get revenge for what they did to me, and to all the ones that get oppressed.” she stopped at arms-length from him. He tried not showing any nervousness or fear but seeing the Dragon Queen in rage made that difficult. He looked at her with wide eyes both of them breathed heavily.

 

“There is no time for any of this. An army of dead men is marching on the wall. I need to protect my Kingdom. And I mean no offence, your Grace, but I don’t know you. As far as I can tell, your claim rests entirely on your father’s name and my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The people of the North placed their trust in me to lead them. And I will continue to do so as well as I can,” he said.

 

A noise came from far behind him. He heard steps coming towards them. A bald man arrived at the Queen’s side and whispered in her ear. She looked concerned and turned back to them.

 

“You must forgive my manners. You should be tired after your journey. We’ll have baths drawn for you and suppers sent to your rooms.” She started giving commands in a foreign language. He didn’t know how that left them. And needed to have reassurances.

 

“Am I your prisoner?” he asked uncertainly.

 

She turned around and responded, “No.”

 

With that, he turned on his heel and left with a fire burning in his belly. He just prayed he could get something out of this.