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Part 1 of The Middle Ground
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2019-12-17
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2020-09-10
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41/41
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The Middle Ground

Chapter 36: Chapter 8: The Ending That Was Promised (Pt. 1)

Summary:

Dria returns to Winterfell and her son, and there are reunions to end reunions. She also has something to tell the northern lords and ladies.

Chapter Text

The journey North was bleak, and not just because of the weather. Jon rode upfront beside Daenerys, the Queen and the King in the North, where he belonged. Dria did not belong there any longer. Although she didn’t want to, she was concerned about the rumours her riding beside Gendry would bring to the lips of the Northerners. As far as they were all concerned she was Queen. She had never wanted the title. She knew she would not be good at it. She wasn’t, after all, a Northerner. She had told Jon as much when they had considered their plan of action.

“They will continue to accept you as their queen if you ask it of them.” He had urged as he saddled his horse beside her. He had repeated such a line several times.

“No, Jon.” Dria shook her head softly as she saddled her own. “I do not ask it of them. I never have, I simply did not deny them when they bestowed it upon me. The one thing that tied us most strongly was that we were both born outside of the North. Neither of us are northern by birth, but by nurture. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I can.” Jon had nodded slowly. She was right. They both may sound northern but they were both far from it when it really came down to it. But he had the family tie. Without Jon’s hand in marriage Dria had nothing. Nothing but loyalty. He thought hard, torn between duty and honour. He knew if they did not ride together then the Northerners would have something to say. He also knew they would have to come clean about their separation at some point. And they needed to do it in a way that did not turn the North against Dria – they needed her. He needed her. Jon sighed. “Ride beside Gendry as we enter Winterfell. They should all be distracted by the foreigner queen anyway. We will address it with the council of bannermen and not with the full council. I am sure many will be on your side, if not mine. That should suffice.”

Dria surveyed him carefully. “I do not wish you to martyr yourself, Jon. I am as much at fault here as you.”

“I died, Dria. That ended any and all tie that we had. They will have to see that.” Jon scowled.

Dria reacted as though slapped as she stared at him. He stared back, not sure what he had said. “That did not end all ties.” Dria corrected him. She knew he had not meant it literally, and the lowering of his head proved it to her. “No, Jon. I will forever by loyal to you. As long as you allow me to stay in the North, there I shall stay, until you tell me otherwise.”

Jon could do nothing but nod, grateful for his friendship in her.

Dria pulled herself from her thoughts as she glimpsed the familiar roads outside of Winterfell. It had been less than a year since she and Jon had left, but so much had changed. The snow was so thick on the ground and the air bitterly cold. She looked to her right and to where Gendry was riding astride his thick black steed, shivering inside his thick furs. She couldn’t help but smirk as she leant closer to him.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m sure I’ll weather.” Gendry replied, but his teeth chattered.

Dria giggled in spite of herself. She and Jon had a plan, and they would stick to it. Whatever happened, happened. She could see the walls of Winterfell up ahead and smiled down at the faces of the people lining the path. Some she recognised, some she did not, but they all smiled up at her.

“You’re popular.” Gendry whispered as Dria returned the wave she was offered by a little girl.

“As far as they know,” Dria replied so quietly only Gendry could hear, “I am still queen.”

“Ah, of course.” Gendry scowled. He was in on the plan, at least, so she wasn’t keeping secrets from the one man she cared for. Gendry glanced over his shoulder to where Thoren was riding. She had been gravely injured by their journey north, and whilst she and Gendry had recovered together they had developed a bond in being the new lovers of the great couple that had been Dria Tawn and Jon Snow. It was a storm to weather indeed, but he was strong, and so was she.

Dria tried not to dwell on her fear as they approached the gates. She could see more recognisable faces in the soldiers she had left behind: her soldiers, Dauphinian armour glinting in the winter son. She held up a hand to greet the man who had replaced Delmar, a man named Aalto. He had been keeping her soldiers in Winterfell in her absence, and he seemed to have done his job. He greeted her in return. Instantly Dria felt safer in her own mind, knowing her men had not deserted her as she feared the Northmen would.

Then all thought of allegiances flew from her mind as her turquoise eyes fell on a young boy perched in the branches of a tree at the edge of the battlements. Her heart flipped as she recognised his wild dark hair, his pale skin and the blue flash of his eyes. He could not have been much older than three, and he waved enthusiastically at her as she noticed him. She waved back in spite of herself, her heart operating her hand.

“Is that...?” Gendry asked breathlessly.

“Yes.” Dria replied. Gendry swallowed hard at the sight of his own son.

As soon as they entered the battlements of Winterfell she slid from her horse and dropped to a crouch, opening her arms wide as the boy slid down onto the hay bale and landed expertly on the ground, running on his stubby legs towards his mother, his hair as wild as hers. He threw his arms around her neck and she span him around.

“Mother!” He cried, planting a slobbering kiss on her cheek.

“Benji, by the Gods how you’ve grown.” Dria balanced him on her hip. When she had left Winterfell he had barely been walking and talking, now here he was climbing walls. She kissed his cheek and held him close again. Jon was engaged in speaking to Sansa and Daenerys and did not partake in the reunion. Perhaps that was best, as it was no guarantee people would not get suspicious.

Behind Dria, Gendry had dismounted his horse and was walking sheepishly towards her. They had to be careful, but this reunion was all she had wanted for him in the last few months.

“Benjen,” Dria said softly, his chubby arms still around her neck, “This is a dear friend of mine,” She said carefully, “Gendry.”

“Hello.” Benjen said shyly.

“Hello.” Gendry replied, blinking fast. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your mother. You’re much stronger than I thought you’d be.” Dria smiled thankfully at Gendry, knowing how hard this was for him not to blurt out ‘I’m your father’.

Especially when Benjen then slid from Dria’s arms and hurried over to Jon, pulling on his cloak until he picked him up. Dria felt her heart flip as she watched the interaction.

“Hey.” Gendry said quietly from as close to her as he dared. “It’s okay.”

“I know.” Dria replied, watching Jon introduce Benjen to Daenerys. “I know.”  Her eyes scanned the party as she smiled at Sansa, and her heart stopped as she saw a boy in a wheelchair. Without explaining it to Gendry, she drifted across the stones to where Brandon was observing.

“Hello Dria.” Bran said, his heavy eyes sliding to her face.

Dria swallowed hard. “You’re alive.” She breathed, kneeling down to look up at his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Bran asked. “It was what I wanted. You only did as I asked. You always do, you are dutiful. Father would be proud.” He offered her a small mechanical smile. “Your son is beautiful.” He glanced to where Jon had set Benjen down again and they had began to move into the fortress. As Dria picked up her son she had the feeling that Bran knew, especially as his odd eyes then slid past Dria to where Gendry was still standing in the middle of the courtyard, and then back to Dria. Jon had moved away now, and Dria was glad as Bran quietly whispered, “I know everything, Dria.”

He then allowed himself to be wheeled away as Dria stood alone and confused with her son in her arms. Time seemed to stop as she considered Bran’s words. Knew everything. Knew what?

“Hey,” Gendry appeared at her shoulder again, “Are you alright?”

“Never better.” Dria forced a smile. “Shall I show you where the smithery is?” Anything to distract her mind.

 

The day had been filled with reunions, and this was one that Dria had been waiting for for four years. She stood with Gendry in the blacksmith shop as he got to work directing the men he had been given. He was to be put in charge of weaponry and the purpose in his demeanour was the most handsome she had ever seen him. Benjen was running about his feet and helping lift tools. She knew how important it was for Gendry to be able to bond with his son, even if his son did not know. It was as Gendry was distracted with Benjen in his arms, showing him the bellows, that Dria heard a small voice from the doorway.  

“Hello, Dria.”

Dria whipped her head around to see Arya standing half in shadow. Dria stepped away from the table and hurried over as fast as she could without causing a scene. She approached Arya, noting every change the young woman have been through, and her eyes filled with tears. To her surprise, as did Arya’s, and the embrace that followed was unanimous. Arya threw her arms around Dria’s neck, and Dria around Arya’s waist, and they stayed like that for a good minute, sobbing.

“Arya.” Dria whispered, eventually holding her at arms length. “How much like your father you are.”

“How much like a warrior you are.” Arya replied, but she smiled.

“I am so sorry.” Dria sobbed.

“For what?” Arya replied. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I should not have abandoned you.”

“You have never abandoned me.” Arya scolded. “You never could. Our paths just ... diverted.”

Dria’s eyes scanned between Arya’s and then dropped to take in everything about her. “You grew up.”

“As did you.” Arya replied with a small smile, her eyes falling on where Gendry had still not noticed, and the child in his arms. “He’s a strong boy.” Arya nodded. “He will make a strong fighter some day. Like his dad.”

Dria followed her gaze and then looked back to Arya. Once again she had the impression Arya knew. Had Bran told her? How did Bran even know?

“I am pleased you and Gendry found each other.” Arya said matter-of-factly. “I know you were once Queen in the North, but that isn’t you anymore than a Lady is me.” Arya smiled at her. “I’ve always known you were meant for something else. Jon limited you.” Her eyes flicked to Gendry again. “I don’t believe in love, but I believe in you and he.” She nodded at Gendry, who had finally realised she was standing there.

Dria’s mouth twitched in a smile as she considered Arya’s words. She had grown wise in their time apart, and it showed. “I made a promise.” Dria said dryly as she could hear Gendry approaching.

“You made many.” Arya said, “You have broken none. Sansa and I are in Winterfell. You will always be there for Jon.” Arya spoke quickly, “You must now start making promises to yourself, Dria. And we will always back you up in them. You are now, and always will be, my sister.”

Dria gave her a warm smile just as Gendry and Benjen joined them.

 

The night a great gathering of the Lords of the North called in the hall of Winterfell. Dria sat awkwardly at the top of the room between Jon and Daenerys. She had hardly had time to speak with Sansa before the gathering, but she had thanked her for caring so much for her son in her absence. Sansa had asked where Dria’s loyalties lay, and Dria had reiterated, “My loyalties have always been with you and your siblings.” Her words had seemed to appease Sansa, who did not seem to warm to the dragon queen.

Gendry sat amongst the crowd beside Thoren, who served to represent their Wildling allies in this discussion to come. Jon was growing exhausted by the constant questions about the dragon queen and seemed close to snapping.

“For the last time,” He said in his booming voice, “I have brought the armies North with me to fight the threat of the dead. Cersei and the Lannister armies can wait.” He had said these words hundreds of times and still the lords were not having it.

Dria knew she had to do something. Jon was losing face the more he was repeating himself. The last straw came when one of the northern lords stood up and shouted, “Bringing a foreigner queen here is an insult to our own queen in the north.”

In that moment Dria knew she had to come clean. All eyes were on her as she slowly rose to her feet.

“My lords,” Dria got to her feet with a glance to Jon, a glance that told him all he needed to know. He gave her a small, agreeing nod and sank back into his own seat, “And ladies.” Dria added as the room fell silent. She knew the dragon queen still doubted her, she knew they all did, but now was the time to prove to them all, and herself, who she was. She had never been happier in many aspects: she had been reunited with her son, with her love, and with the family she had sworn to protect and to love. She was unstoppable, and she was about to prove it. Daenerys raised an eyebrow at the instant power Dria held over the people of the north. It was clear how much she was loved.

And she could not have the north rallying behind her when she was not the one who could do most for them. “If I may take a moment of your time.” She spoke clear and precisely, “I wish to understand why you are all so unwilling to accept Daenerys Targaryen under our roof. Is the North not a hospitable kingdom? Was that not Ned Stark’s way?” She glanced at Sansa who, in her opinion, had been one of the rallying forces in the hatred of Daenerys. Dria was no fan of the dragon queen but she could see the benefit to having her on side. Sansa wilted under Dria’s eyes as Dria turned back to the lords.

“The north has forever been a strong kingdom of unity, us against the rest of the kingdoms of Westeros. That can no longer be the case, my kin, if we are to survive.” They were hooked on her every word, the sound of silence heavy in the air. “May I draw your attention to myself. You welcomed me into your kingdom as a foreigner, and now you have made me your queen. You have let me bring my own foreign army and put them up inside our walls.”

“You fought bravely. They fought bravely.” One of the lords piped up.

“We all fought bravely.” Dria corrected him. As she spoke, she walked around the top table and stood in the centre of the room, appealing to each lord individually. “Every man and woman who fought to win back Winterfell did so bravely. It was not a question of allegiance when it was us against the Boltons. Why should it be a question of allegiance now we stand against the white walkers?” They fell silent again, knowing she had a point. “I fought no braver than any of you, my lords. Nor did I fight any braver than I have seen Queen Daenerys.” She felt sick admitting it, but it needed to be said. “When I first came to Winterfell I was a refugee. My homeland had been ripped apart by civil war. I was not necessarily of noble birth, not by Westerosi standards. I am certainly not of northern birth. I’m not even of Westerosi birth. Daenerys was born in Westeros, and she is a noble. If you were so willing to make me queen by nothing more than marriage, why should you not look to her for leadership and allow her armies to refuge here for the war to come? She deserves your loyalty far more than I. As does Sansa Stark, or Jon Snow. They have far more claim to this title than I.”

Dria glanced behind her. Her heart was heavy, but the words were coming before she could stop them. Jon could see it in her eyes. He rose to his feet as though to stop her, but a shake of her head stopped him. She turned back to the room.

“Therefore, if we are to continue in this war against the real evil, there should not be secrets within your own walls.” Whispering, so heavy that Dria was forced to hold up her hands to stop it. “It is, after much deliberation, my decision to renounce the title that you so kindly bestowed upon me, that of Queen in the North, a title you so kindly bestowed upon me, a refugee, a servant.”

The room erupted into argument and shouting that was only silenced by the Hound banging his fist on his table. Dria frowned at him, confused that he should come to her aid, but she didn’t argue. She still had to shout over the remaining noise as the room slowly silenced itself to muttering so that Dria could continue. “I am grateful for all that you have given me by it. I am no longer Queen in the North. I renounce my title, and...” She glanced at Jon, and then stared determinedly at the back wall, her fists clenched and her head held high, “I renounce my marriage to Jon Snow.”

Gendry and Thoren were amongst those who got to their feet in shock, though their faces were full of concern and compassion for the single-handed struggle Dria was facing. Dria could feel the room about to explode again but they were silenced by Jon also getting to his feet. He knew that in what she was doing she was martyring herself for the sake of him, and it broke his heart, but was too late now to take it back.

“My lords, ladies, please.” Dria said exasperatedly, her voice louder than she had hoped. “Jon Snow is a loyal man, and this separation was not his idea. Do not look unkindly upon him for it, but on me. I am the foreigner, after all. I am Adria Tawn, a refugee of Dauphin...” She clenched her fists harder. She had to make it a clean sweep. She glanced at Gendry and then looked to the floor. “And, what is more. My son Benjen is Snow by birth, and not through my marriage to Jon Snow.” The whisperings built up again. She saw Gendry sink back to sitting, incredulous. “I lay with another man and so my son is a bastard. He is not a prince, nor has he any right to be.” She could not meet anyone’s eye. “I am sorry for deceiving you. It was my doing, and not Jon Snow’s. He should remain to be your king in the north, and you should remain loyal to him.”

Dria made to leave the room, unable to hold it back anymore. Gendry got to his feet and made to follow, to comfort her, but they were both stayed by Jon banging his tankard on the table.

“My lords and ladies.” He said, his voice booming over the stone. “I would remind you that we have much bigger problems to face than the issues around the parentage of Benjen Snow or marriage of Dria Tawn. This is the stuff of gossip, and we are better than that.”

Dria looked to him from the doorway.

“This revelation changes nothing. It does not view the way I view Dria, and it should not change the way you do. She deceived out of love, I’m sure you can understand. We are all human. What isn’t human is the threat coming to us from the North. In light of such threat, I would like to reiterate that Dria is one of my most trusted advisors, even now. Nothing will change that. She is a good teacher, a good mother, and a strong fighter. You said so yourself.” There were mutterings of agreement. “Her decision to denounce her title and our decision to separate does not change her position in the North and in Winterfell. Dria Tawn remains the Captain of my personal guard and will continue to fight beside me in the battles to come. Her son, Benjen Snow, will grow up within the walls of Winterfell as a ward for as long as she, his mother, wishes. I would remind you all that Dria has never, in light of all of this, lost sight of the bigger picture. So I invite you, my lords and ladies, to leave the sanctuary of Winterfell if you cannot agree and move forward.” Jon growled. “What is more,” He added, “if you cannot accept that we have an ally in Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen. Dria is right. There are bigger things.”

His words resonated as, one-by-one, everyone in the room turned and bowed their heads to Dria. She blinked incredulously at the response, her eyes flicking to Jon, who nodded his own head. That was all that was needed. Everything was out, no more secrets. Now they could focus on the reality.

 

It was the first time Dria had been alone since returning to Winterfell. It was late at night and the hall was filled with feasting following the excitement of the briefing. Dria had taken herself off to the crypts to view the statues Sansa had commissioned to be installed in their absence. Bold and striking, the statues were a macabre freeze that symbolised the Stark’s downfall, piece by piece.

Dria looked up at the stone face of Ned Stark as he looked down at her with his permanent stern expression. She hadn’t seen that face in years and it brought tears to her eyes and a knot to her stomach to look at the melancholy carving. Even now, after everything, she felt sorry for all she had done, or not done, for his children. Sansa had wasted no expense in the features. Every deep Northern line was etched into the rock. There was a scolding in his face, but also a kindness, as in life.

Dria lit the candle in his hand with her own shaking fingers and took a moment before she spoke. It was the first time she had been able to bring herself to visit the family she felt she had betrayed.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “For everything. I couldn’t protect them all like you asked. But... they’re home. The girls are home, and Bran. I cannot say they are safe, but they’re home.”

A silence filled the damp walls as she looked into his eyes. He didn’t seem to be angry for which she was relieved.

The skitter of a pebble along the stone floor of the crypt behind Dria pulled her from her thoughts. She sniffled back her tears and turned to the dark archway leading to the Stark tomb, wrapping her cloak around herself as the winter winds blew through the tunnel. Gendry stood framed in the place where the light faded and the torches took over, his bulking shoulders filling the space.

“Sorry.” He said quietly, “Did I interrupt?”

“No.” Dria said with a small smile. “I just had some things to say.”

Dria looked back up at Ned as she felt Gendry approach her side, shivering as he was in the Northern winds that he was not accustomed to. Dria let out a small chuckle as she watched him blow into his fingers.

“Did you manage to say them?” Gendry asked softly, putting a hand gently on her waist.

Dria began to nod but then shook her head. “There’s too much to say. There’s just so much to apologise for.”

“Why apologise?” Gendry frowned.

“Because of everything that happened. With Arya and Sansa...”

“You did the best you could. You were the best they had.”

Dria shook her head again. “I could have done better. He would be so disappointed.” It was clear she was exhausted after everything.

“Ned?” Gendry let out a laugh from the back of his throat, “I think you’re over-thinking, my love. I only met the man once but he didn’t seem the type to hold grudges. Serious, true, and fiercely Northern, but you have nothing to apologise for. And he would say that too.”

“The last thing he said to me...” Dria frowned at the memory. It felt so long since that time she had stood in the Hand’s chambers in Kings Landing. So long ago, so far away, almost a lifetime. “Was ‘I hope you will always do your best to protect them. Take them North.’”

“And you did both of those things. They’re home, Dria, and you helped with that.” Gendry pulled her closer to him in a reassuring manner.

“He told me that he thought of me as a daughter.”

“You were his daughter.” Gendry reminded her. “By law.”

“He never approved of my marriage to Jon.”

“But he called you his daughter nonetheless.”

Dria nodded, “He was more of a father than my own. He taught me how to be a leader.” Her eyes slid to Catelyn’s statue beside Ned, “And Lady Catelyn taught me how to be a mother.” She hesitated. “I never got to say goodbye to her.”

“Say it now.” Gendry said softly. Dria swallowed hard and then slipped past him to stand in front of Catelyn. Her features were carved to be softer than Ned’s, as they were in life, yet still hardened and Northern.

“Thank you.” Dria said with a hard swallow. “Your daughters are home. I know that’s all you ever wanted.” She lightly touched the statue.

“I wish I could have met her.” Gendry said softly. “Arya used to speak fondly of her mother.”

Dria scoffed. “Not to her face. Lady Catelyn always wanted Arya to be a lady.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad Arya did not listen. She has grown into such a strong human.” Dria’s eyes took in Gendry as he stood before her. She stepped closer to him, her cloak rustling on the ground, and leant into him, her hands clasped in front of her chest and her head reclined to look up at him. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist. “She would have liked you. You and Robb would have been firm friends.”

Gendry scoffed with a smile. “I would have been pleased to meet them.”

“Did you know your own mother?”

Gendry shook his head. “She died when I was small. I remember her having yellow hair, and working in a tavern, or a brothel. That’s where she met my father.”

“Did you ever meet him?” Dria asked.

Gendry shook his head again. “It didn’t give a shit about me. I don’t even know if he knew I existed.”

“Ned did. He worked it out. And Cersei. Robert might have worked it out too.”

“From what I’ve heard he was a fat drunk. I’m glad I didn’t know him. I might have become him.”

“With respect my love, there’s still time for that.” She patted his stomach teasingly and he pushed her away with a laugh before pulling her close again. She sighed and rested her head against his chest. “I never liked Robert. The way he used to look at me.”

There was a pause as Gendry kissed the top of her darkly haired head and looked up at Ned and Catelyn. His eyes drifted to a statue on Ned’s right. “Who’s she?”

Dria followed his eyeline.

“Lady Lyanna Stark. Ned’s sister. The one who your father was supposed to marry.”

Gendry’s eyebrow twitched. “She’s beautiful.”

“Rhaegar Targaryen thought so too.” She said with a raised eyebrow. “That’s why he stole her.”

“How different it might have been.” Gendry frowned. “I may not have been born. If he loved her he wouldn’t have strayed.”

“Ned loved Catelyn.” Dria said with a careful look to Gendry, “He strayed.”

“Under Robert’s influence, according to the stories.” Gendry shrugged. “Still, it means Jon and I have something in common.

“Besides me.” Dria said.

“Besides love for you.” Gendry corrected.

Dria nodded softly. “You may have been born a Prince.” She suggested, not wanting to talk about Jon.

“Instead of a bastard you mean?” Gendry finished for her.

“Does it ever bother you that you’re the rightful heir to the throne?” Dria asked before she could stop herself. “Stannis promised you it.”

Gendry scoffed. “Robert Baratheon was a usurper. He took the throne from the Targaryens.”

“You’ve spent too much time in the Dragon Queen’s presence.” Dria rolled her eyes. Her expression became serious. “I mean it. Everyone thinks Jon is the Prince that was promised... the red woman and Beric Dondarrion.” Dria hesitated, swallowing hard. “Maybe it was you. The Prince that was promised.”

“Pull the other one.” Gendry scoffed again. “Dria, I don’t know the first thing about ruling a castle let alone seven kingdoms. I’d make as good a King as Arya would a lady.”

Dria giggled. “Perhaps you’re right.” She nodded. “It’s a good job you’re a decent blacksmith.” She teased.

Gendry shook his head at her. “When this is over, Dria, you and me and Benji. We should run away. Like we said.”

Dria swallowed and looked up at Ned and Catelyn again. “I can’t.” Dria said, “I can’t just leave. I promised I’d protect them. And protect them I shall until they no longer want me to.”

“You’re too noble for your own good.” Gendry shook his head at her and kissed her on the forehead softly.

“We should get back.” Dria said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips and then turning away with a final glance at the statues. Gendry watched her walk down the crypt tunnel before turning to Ned. He may have never officially met Dria’s parents, but he silently vowed to do those who had raised her proud.

Dria held her hand backwards to him. There was no need to hide their love now, everything was out. And that meant Benjen could know the truth. That was the next hurdle, and then it was the battle to come. She couldn’t face it without righting every wrong that she had influenced.