Chapter Text
The dawn had come at last, yet the mood in the war room was dark and dismal. The air was heavy with grief and spiced with stress, and everyone in the chamber looked weary and worn down.
“Half are gone.” said Grey Worm, speaking of the Unsullied. The commander swept away five markers from the table.
“Many riders are dead.” Qhono, one of Dany’s bloodriders added.
Jon glanced at her.
He wasn’t at her side. Instead, he was a few places down, flanked by Ser Davos and Maester Wolkan. She, in turn, had Missandei to her left and Tyrion on her right, his Hand’s pin glinting dully in the light of the candlelit chandelier that hung above them.
“The Northmen as well.” Jon heard himself stating.
Finally, her eyes met his. She had barely acknowledged him when she had entered, choosing to busy herself conversing with her council until the meeting started.
He could not help but think of their own meeting the night before.
She had come to him, a vision in her dress of red and black, the colors of House Targaryen.
“He loved me. And I couldn’t love him back. Not the way he wanted. Not the way I love you.”
“Is that alright?”
They had shared a kiss filled with passion. He had even begun to undress her, but then that horrible memory had flung itself at him, and stung, he had pulled away.
“It’s true, Dany. I know it is.”
“If it were true, it would make you the last male heir of House Targaryen. You’d have a claim to the Iron Throne.”
He had thought she would be happy.
But she had not been, and worse, it seemed as if she somehow believed he would someday betray her for a throne he had never laid his eyes on.
“I wish you’d never told me. If I didn’t know, I’d be happy right now.”
“I tried to forget. Tonight, I did for a while, and then I saw them gathered around you. I saw the way they looked at you. I know that look. So many people have looked at me that way, but never here. Never on this side of the sea.”
“I told you I don’t want it.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want! You didn’t want to be King in the North. What happens when they demand you press your claim, and take what is mine?”
“I’ll refuse. You are my queen. I don’t know what else I can say.”
“You can say nothing. To anyone, ever. Never tell them who you really are. Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else, or it will take on a life of its own and you won’t be able to control it or what it does to people. No matter how many times you bend the knee, no matter what you swear.”
Her words … her reaction … all of it felt like a knife to his heart. He had moved away from her, anger simmering within him as he wondered if she truly meant what she had been saying.
She had followed him, taking her hands in his, her violet eyes aglow as she gently whispered, “I want it to be the way that it was between us.”
Then he had ripped his hands from hers and spat, “You want me to live my life as a lie.”
At that moment they were both set alight with flames of rage.
“Can’t you see what the truth will do?” she fired, scolding him as if he were a child who did not understand that actions had consequences.
“Can’t you see that I won’t let it harm you? I love you.” he responded, making it known that, yes, of course, he still loved her.
What was a bit of shared blood when it came to a bond such as theirs?
Dany’s ire vanished. Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, turned wet with unshed tears.
He had went to her and took her face in his hands, his palms almost holding the entirety of it.
“This will destroy us.” she had said, so afraid, so frightened.
“It won’t.” Jon had promised, so sure, so certain.
She had placed her hands over his, desparate as she told him, “It will. I know you. You wish to tell Sansa and Arya because you feel that they need to know. Please don’t do this. I’ve never begged for anything, but I’m begging you.”
“You are my queen. Nothing will change that. And they are my family. We can live together.”
He had felt her stiffen, had seen the instant change in her demeanor. Her eyes had hardened, and icily, she had said,
“We can. I’ve just told you how.”
She had then freed herself from his grip and left his rooms, and where heat normally trailed her, all he had felt was the cold.
They had not spoken since then. He had considered rushing after her, but the bitterness of their interaction had put him in a foul mood. So, heartsick and angry, he had remained in his chambers, hardly sleeping, and when the sun had risen, he broke his fast alone.
And now, here he was, head throbbing slightly from a hangover he would rather not have.
“The Golden Company has arrived in King’s Landing, courtesy of the Greyjoy fleet. The balance has grown distressingly even.”
That was Varys, who added markers around King’s Landing, where Cersei lay waiting. A trapped lion, but a lion with a fresh, rested army and the Iron Fleet manned by Euron Greyjoy.
Missandei spoke out, “When the people find out what we have done for them, that we saved them -”
It was Dany who cut her off, saying, “Cersei will make sure they don’t believe it. We will hit her hard. We will rip her out root and stem.”
Tyrion protested, caution lining his voice as he commented, “The objective here is to remove Cersei without destroying King’s Landing.”
Varys looked at his fellow council member, responding, “Thankfully, she’s losing allies by the day. Yara Greyjoy has retaken the Iron Islands in her queen’s name. The new Prince of Dorne has pledged his support.”
Jon pulled a face. What did they know of this new Prince? Is he blindly pledging his soliders or does he want something in return?
“No matter how many lords turn against her, as long as she sits on the Iron Throne, she can call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We need the capital.” Dany stated, firmly as she reached out and placed a dragon figurine in the middle of King’s Landing.
“I watched the people of King’s Landing rebel against their king when they were hungry, and that was before winter began. Give them the opportunity and they will cast Cersei aside.” Tyrion advised.
Jon fought against rolling his eyes. He liked the dwarf, but he could not help but think that Tyrion might be more than biased against an outright assault. Cersei was a tyrant, but she was still his sister. Could he handle seeing her head on the ramparts of the Red Keep?
“A siege could last months, and it is as likely to turn the people against Daenerys as it would turn them against Cersei.” Jon said.
Tyrion was about to respond, but Ser Davos chose then to add, “Cersei’s already got the people afraid of Her Grace. If we start a siege, she’ll use that to only further their hatred of Queen Daenerys.”
“We could surround the city, establish a perimeter on the outskirts, and pick off our enemies one by one, starting with the Iron Fleet. The dragons can destory Euron and his ships.” Jon announced.
He stared at Dany. Her hands were folded in front of her as her eyes scanned the map that lay on the table.
“And what of the Golden Company?” she questioned, still avoiding his gaze.
“If the Lannisters and the Golden Company attack, we’ll defeat them in the field.”
“And if Cersei has them spread throughout the city?”
“Then we take the dragons, destroy any weapons and men on the outer walls, and send our forces in afterwards.”
Suddenly, she stared at him.
But it was only for a moment and then she spoke to Grey Worm and the rest of her council.
“Well?”
“We do as you command.” Grey Worm responded.
“Destroying the outer walls could be risky. I still believe a siege could be worked to our advantage.” Tyrion said.
“A siege will still kill people, my lord. Whether it’s by starvation or the sword, people will die, and it’s the little ones and the old that go first when there’s no food.” Ser Davos countered.
Upon hearing that, Dany’s face softened. She appeared saddened, no doubt the image of dead children was not one she wished to see.
“Your Grace … You did not come here to be Queen of the Ashes.” Tyrion said to Dany, pleading with her.
She snapped her head to the side, glaring as she made known, “And I won’t be. But I must have King’s Landing. A siege will only give Cersei more fodder to use against me and I will not be responsible for the deaths of innocents, certainly not children. That is your sister, not me.”
“My lord.”
Jon realized she was addressing him and he leaned forward just a bit.
“We shall go with your plan.” she announced.
“Yes, Your Grace.” he answered.
There was still tension between them, but, it seemed, it was not enough to warrant her distrust in him. If she accepted his military advice, then surely there was a way for them to move forward on the subject of his parentage.
Of who he truly was.
“The men we have left are exhausted. Many of them are wounded. They’ll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate.”
Sansa stood at the opposite end of the table from Dany, and it was her that had spoken, voice haughty, almost as if she were seeking out an argument.
“How long do you suggest?”
“I can’t say for certain, not without talking to the officers.”
Dany’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign her temper was flaring.
“I came North to fight alongside you at great cost to my armies and myself. Now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone.” she retorted, her voice clipped and irritated.
Jon foresaw Sansa’s response, if he did not say something now, this would turn into a squabble.
“My queen, if I may, Rhaegal is injured. He requires time to heal before flying any large distance. Perhaps we could give him and everyone else a few weeks rest, no more than a moon.”
Ghost was also hurt. To Jon’s dismay, the direwolf had lost an ear and taken a wound to his flank, and Rhaegal had torn some of his wing membranes and had scales ripped off along his belly.
Dany pondered his words. Her lips parted then rejoined in a sad pout, as if she were upset with herself for ignoring the green dragon’s state.
“Yes, of course … A few weeks of rest shall do us all a great deal of good.”
“How many weeks?”
Sansa. Jon wanted to seethe. Why did she continue to provoke Dany?
“Will three be sufficient?”
Sansa bristled. Another rough tongued barb was sure to leave her mouth, so Jon once again stepped in.
“Three weeks will suit us all, Your Grace.”
Arya and Sansa shot him cold glares, but he ignored them.
Tyrion, wanting to diffuse any hostilities, clapped his hands together and chimed, “Seeing as we are in agreement, let us move onto further planning. Jon and Ser Davos will ride down the Kingsroad with the Northern troops and the bulk of the remaining Dothraki and Unsullied.”
Tyrion glanced at Jon, expecting him to move the corresponding markers, but none budged.
“If it would please Her Grace, I intend to accompany her on Rhaegal.”
Jon did a half turn so that he could face Dany and her council directly.
“I’m presuming you will ride to White Harbor and then sail to Dragonstone?” he asked.
Most of the room’s occupants still seemed rather shocked by his announcement, but Tyrion was recovering and replied, “That was my thinking, yes.”
“I will join you. Her Grace and I will patrol the sea, flying ahead of the fleet during the day. If we find any sign of Euron and his ships, we will signal our own, and then we will destroy his.”
Sansa balked at this.
“Jon, you can’t. Our men will follow only you, you can’t expect them to -”
“I expect them to follow our queen’s orders. What she commands, they will obey.”
Sansa fumed, but he would not change his mind.
He would not separate himself from Rhaegal. He owed the dragon his loyalty and as his rider, it was his responsibility to be with him, for if any harm befell the green dragon and he was not there, the fault would be his.
They had not been bonded for very long, but already he felt Rhaegal being woven into his soul, sharing a space with Ghost.
Most importantly, only two dragonriders lived in all the world and he would not separate himself from Dany, even if they were at odds currently.
Surely she would know that, even though they had argued, he would do all that he could to keep her safe.
Losing her was something he could never live with.
“But Jon, dragonriding comes with so many risks. You could be struck down, or lose your grip and fall. The Targaryens of old had saddles, but you don’t.” Sam worriedly sputtered.
“Rhaegal would never drop me.” Jon declared.
“And besides,” he went on to add, “I will have time to become a more adept rider, though I surely will never compare to our queen.”
Dany did not react much to that statement, but Missandei smiled for a moment.
“Two riders will serve better than one.” Ser Davos pointed out, and Jon wished he could hug the knight.
“Perhaps, but if anything were to happen to Jon, then -” Tyrion prattled, but he was cut off.
“I’ll not leave Daenerys to face an attack at sea alone. My mind is set and I won’t hear anymore otherwise.” Jon barked, wishing to settle the matter.
Dany looked at him and it was as if everyone else faded away. There it was. Affection as there had been before their kiss last night. Love.
“Unless, of course, you feel as though I would be better suited elsewhere?” he forced himself to say out of propriety. Out of respect. He could not be so bold as to make every single plan for her, for that would only lessen her power in the eyes of those who doubted her.
I am no threat to you. I would never turn against you.
He waited to see what her response would be, as did everyone else.
“For Rhaegal’s sake, I will not keep you two apart. Should you wish to fly with me, then you shall.” came her ruling.
Jon felt his heart sink into his stomach. Of course he wanted to be with Rhaegal, but he wanted to be with her even more so.
For Rhaegal’s sake? I’m going for you! To help protect you! he wished to shout. He felt his lips tremble, but no words escaped.
He turned away, dejected. All he offered was a solemn nod as acknowledgment.
The meeting went on. Tyrion spoke of how their forces would ride down the Kingsroad and camp at Harrenhal, where they would wait for commands from Dragonstone on how to proceed.
Jon watched as markers moved about the table until at last, Dany spoke.
“We have won the Great War. Now we will win the Last War. In all Seven Kingdoms, the people will live without fear and cruelty under their rightful queen.”
With that final statement, the war council was put to its end. The room emptied so quickly. Maester Wolkan and Sam walked off together, as did Missandei and Grey Worm.
Ser Davos touched his shoulder.
“You alright, lad?”
“I have to go.” Jon muttered, and he went to leave, hoping to catch Dany before she was whisked away by Tyrion and Varys, who were already leading her into the hall.
He was stopped, a hand tugging at his sleeve.
Arya.
She was preventing him from leaving and was joined by Sansa, who was wheeling Bran, stopping right in front of him.
“We need a word.”