Chapter Text
“We break the wheel, together,” she tells him, hopeful and bright.
Jon looks down at her, finding her eyes so clear and full of love, unlike the dark shadows that had plagued them in recent days, and he makes his decision. He gently pulls her closer, kissing her softly. The guilt immediately followed the sweet taste of her, the happiness in her responding touch, almost makes him pull away in shame.
How could he have considered it? Tyrion’s words only angered him now. He’d been so quick to give up on her, to abandon her. Jon knows that he had abandoned her, too. The vulnerability she had shown him on Dragonstone was only met with Jon’s inability to reconcile his two identities. Targaryen or Stark? Did that make her his aunt or his love? He didn’t know then and so he said nothing. He was unable to choose in that moment, when she had asked if she was more than his queen. Still, he realizes now that he should have said something, done something. She didn’t need the comfort of a lover, just the comfort of someone who cared for her. And she was met with a cold, disconnected wall where she’d once felt warmth.
Maybe if she knew that he did love her, that he cared for her in a way she so desperately needed, it would have prevented the massacre that followed. She would have known that it didn’t need to be fear, that love was possible, that she had love with him and so she could with the people.
Jon quickly halts his thoughts. There was no reason to dwell on what he should have done, it would do nothing to change what happened. Instead, he focuses on his queen before him, vowing to himself that he would not leave her side again.
“We’ll leave the world a better place than we found it,” she tells him. “Future generations will never know what it’s like to live and die in the shadows of a tyrant. They’ll know only peace and happiness and know that you and I gave it to them,” she says with a fearsome passion.
Tyrion was right about one thing, he thought. She doesn’t sound like she’s done fighting. He doesn’t dwell on the implications that possibility might hold, instead he tries to bring her back to the present, to face what she’s done.
“Aye. The world will be peaceful, now that the war is won. But the people of King’s Landing need you, before you think of continuing your fight,” she opens her mouth to argue but he cuts her off, “Dany, you’ve killed innocent people, destroyed the city, the people need someone to lead them, to help them rebuild their city and their lives.”
Only then does she show concern, acknowledges her actions, “And why would they want me to do it? You see how people rejected me before, turned me away because of the name I bear. And now I have no possibility of winning their love, not after I’ve rained fire and blood upon them. No, fear. It has to be fear, Jon, it’s the only way—”
“It’s not,” he rushes to say, before she becomes resolute in her belief, “Fear is not the answer anymore, Dany. It won you the war, but you have no need for it now. You are the queen, you have a dragon, armies. No one will dare to rise against you.”
She pauses for a moment, thinking on his words before the mask of a queen falls over her face, and she pulls away from him. “And the north? Sansa betrayed you, betrayed your trust. She has the power to turn the largest of the kingdoms away from my cause with one word about who you are.”
He knows she’s right. Sansa is a danger to her reign, as much as it pains him to admit. She had proven herself untrustworthy the moment she took his secret and used it as a pawn in her own game, a game he’d made very clear he didn’t want to play. In a way, her actions led to Daenerys’. He would be a fool to blame Sansa for all the blood spilled, but he couldn’t help but think that things would have played out differently If she hadn’t planted that seed of doubt that led to Tyrion betraying his queen. As soon as Tyrion believed there was a better option, he had stopped advising Daenerys, his efforts not nearly as ardent as they had been before.
“We can’t worry about the north. You named me warden and you are my queen. That has to be enough. If Sansa begins to rally the northern lords against you, I will deal with her myself. Please, Dany. She’s my sister.”
“Small mercies, Jon. I almost lost the war because of small mercies. And Sansa hasn’t proven herself worthy of my mercy.” The cold stillness in her voice chilled him.
“Am I? Worthy of your mercy? Don’t do it for Sansa, do it for me. Don’t make me choose between you and my family when there isn’t cause to do so just yet,” he begs, letting the fear he feels take over his voice, hoping it will sway her. “Please, Dany.”
Her face softens again, into a look that he knows is meant only for him.
“You are more than worthy. But I should hope I would never have a reason to grant it to you,” the fire in her eyes starts to dim,” I suppose you’re right, though. Sansa can’t do much while the northern forces are here with us. Very well, I said together and my feelings towards your sister won’t change that. We’ll worry about the northern threat when we need to, if we need to.”
“Thank you,” he relaxes, knowing that his family is safe from her rage, at least for the moment.
Worry abruptly overtakes her, her hands coming up to grip his arms, her eyes searching wildly for something in his face, “But should a time come when you need to choose? Tell me now, Jon, if you would choose them. Would I be enough family for you? Or would you wish for something more? Please, spare me the heartbreak and tell me now if I should ever fear for a life alone.”
He knows in that moment that he is her one true weakness. That he had the power to steer her in the right direction.The thought leaves him feeling uneasy, though he suspects that he needs to embrace it, for her. To bring back his Dany, the woman with the good heart. She’s there, he knows it, and it’s his duty to bring her back. Not only for her sake, but for the sake of everyone else in the world.
“You. It will always be you,” he answers with the confidence he should have had that night on Dragonstone. He pulls her back to him, enjoying the feeling of having her body so close to his. “Together, Daenerys.”
The relief in her eyes causes another wave of regret to wash over him. He had failed her too many times.
“Good. I need you, Jon. I’ve lost so much for this throne, I couldn’t bear to lose you as well,” she whispers, her lips lightly brushing against his, the sweetness in her voice reminding him of their time on the boat, when she would lay with her head against his chest, tracing his scars with her fingertips, telling him stories about her life, lemon trees, and red doors. “So, what would you have me do?”
Realizing she’s now talking about the city, he quickly begins speaking, “Call off the Unsullied, the war is over, there is no need for more violence. Tell Grey Worm to spare the remaining Lannister soldiers. Ensure that the Dothraki won’t rape, or pillage and I’ll do the same with the Northmen. We need to take care of the people, before anything else. Get them fed and healing before their fear turns into hostility.”
He’s relieved when she slowly begins to nod, accepting his words.
“We’ll stay, then. In King’s Landing. Help me earn their love and respect. Teach me. If they can accept my rule, perhaps I can reward their loyalty with kindness. But the smallfolk are not the only people I need to win over. The lords and ladies of Westeros will hear what I’ve done, they’ll be quick to judge me for it. They may have hated Cersei, but she wasn’t burdened by the history of a mad father. If I don’t have their love, I won’t have a choice but to resort to violence in order to keep the peace.”
The lords and ladies. He didn’t know how to win over lords and ladies. Smallfolk were easy, he knew what they wanted. He grew up no better than them, in truth, despite his noble blood. But the nobles of Westeros…he didn’t have the faintest idea.
He knows who could, though he loathed the idea of letting him anywhere near Daenerys. Tyrion may have been shit at war, but he knows politics. He would know how to proceed in the fight against the prejudices and hatred they might hold for Daenerys. He wouldn’t want to, Jon knows, but he would have no choice if he wanted his life spared. Besides, it isn’t Tyrion he’s concerned about. Men are easy to control when they have a knife at their throat. No, it was Dany. She hadn’t taken Tyrion’s betrayal lightly. But they need him in order to salvage something good out of the damage she had inflicted on the city.
“Tyrion—”
“No,” she cuts him off as soon as the name left his lips. “I can’t trust him. I had so much faith in him and his wise words, even after they led to nothing but failure, and yet he chose to betray me the moment I don’t heed his advice. No, he’ll conspire behind my back. He’ll plot to have me murdered, if I give him the chance,” Jon looks away from her, then, unable to look her in the eye and tell her that her fears are unfounded. “He might even try to turn you against me, Jon. He knows I love you, knows I trust you. He would have you take advantage of that trust, he could—”
“He won’t get the chance,” Jon starts, his voice carrying across the ruins of the throne room. It startles her, but he couldn’t let her mind wander to that dark thought. The thought of the deed he had very nearly committed when he had first walked up to her, the ultimate betrayal of her trust, her love. He was ashamed to admit that Tyrion’s attempt at manipulation was almost successful. Had he followed through, Daenerys would be bleeding out in his arms right now. His heart clenches in pain at the picture it paints. “We’ll keep him as a hostage of sorts, he won’t leave the castle. We’ll use him for his mind and leave the rest of him. Only those loyal to you will have access to his rooms, I swear it. But we need him, I know nothing about the lords of Westeros or how to play the game, he does. I can make progress on the commonfolk, he can advise us on the noble houses. He owes you that much.”
She considers the words, and an optimistic hope takes root in his chest, knowing that she is still able to listen to reason, to see solutions that are not her own.
“You’re right, I know you are. But he betrayed me, he needs to be punished for it. He needs to suffer and be used as an example to those who would think to plot against me, “ Jon gives her a pleading look, silently asking her to accept that his idea is the best course of action, and she reluctantly concedes. “It seems I’ll be granting another small mercy to you.”
“Not a mercy this time. You said we’d rule together, so allow me to rule. I would never think to undermine you, Dany, but if you want me by your side, you need to trust me.”
They are words he never thought he’d say, and he can’t suppress the bitter taste they leave in his mouth. His one unwavering stance was he was King in the North, the one thing he was always most sure of, was that he didn’t want it. He didn’t want the crown or the responsibility of a ruler, even if it was only bestowed upon him by a single kingdom. And yet, he now found himself asking, no, telling, Daenerys that she would share her crown and her kingdoms with him. But he would do it for her. As much as he wants to leave the city, leave the kingdoms and all the dishonorable politics behind, that would mean leaving her behind, and he doesn’t think he ever could do that.
It’s almost funny, he thinks. The one time I choose my own wants and desires over what I’m told is my duty, I become more burdened by responsibility than ever before.
“I trust you, Jon, I do. More than anyone now. Without you I would be truly alone, and I know I terrible it is to be alone,” she begins, vulnerability seeping into her voice, “I’ve believed for so long that I would have to fulfill my destiny alone, that I would have no one beside me as I ruled. Please, even if you one day decide that you no longer want this, just don’t let me be alone.”
“You’ll never be alone, Dany,” he promises. He hopes, despite all his own mistakes, that she sees the love he has for her and knows that his words are true.
Tyrion was wrong, duty is not the death of love. It won’t be for them. Instead, he thinks. It will be my duty to love her.