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Walking calmly along the darkened docks of King's Landing, Varys quickly and quietly made his way to where his friend was waiting for him so. As he glanced up at the sign hanging over the inn, he had to give his friend credit. Despite being quite recognizable, his friend did all in his power to avoid detection, usually by never staying in the same place twice whenever he left his manse. In this case, the inn he'd chosen was clear across from the previous and in a much more 'noble' area of the port. Walking into the inn, he stayed close to the walls and the shadows as he made his way up the stairs without a sound, searching for the room his friend had told him of. It wasn't a difficult task in truth, considering his friend had posted an Unsullied guard outside his door.
The Unsullied soldier said not a word as he approached. And before he could utter any word in greeting, the silent warrior moved aside and allowed him to pass. Giving the young man a nod, which wasn't returned in kind, Varys cast a quick glance around to make sure there were no unwanted eyes before making his way into the room.
Ironically, his friend was just inside the room…sitting before a platter of cheese and wine of all things. "I would think that it would be ill practice for one to partake in their own wares." Varys greeted his old friend as the door shut quietly behind him.
"Show me the owner of a brothel owner who hasn't fucked every one of his whores, and I'll show you a true liar, my friend," Illyrio replied as he cut a sliver of cheese and held it up for inspection before taking a bite. "Besides, it's good business to know your wares inside and out. How can I sell something that I know nothing about?"
Conceding the point, Varys took his spot across from his friend, waiting patiently as Illyrio went about trying a few different cheeses, some of which he clearly liked and others that he did not. "We need to get Daenerys away from Khal Drogo," Illyrio commented idly as he poured Varys a cup of wine from his bottle. "I know the plan was for her and Viserys to act as distractions, but she has become far too valuable to let waste amongst the Dothraki savages. Her magic, and her command of it, is already incredible. In a few years she will either become a threat to us or our greatest asset."
Leaning back, Varys studied his friend carefully. "What makes you say so? The reports from Jorah have noted that she has come into her own amongst the Dothraki and that her power is indeed a sight to behold. But there has been little mention of her becoming a great threat to us."
"Only because you refuse to listen to the advice of those well versed in the arcane my old friend," Illyrio replied with a hard look and a shake of his head. "I have several contacts amongst the magic practitioners of the world. Almost all of whom who give up everything for the chance to obtain the power that the Northern Sorcerer wields. All of them have recently had their attention drawn to young Daenerys and her recent actions. And it has them quite worried, and excited."
"Why?" Varys asked.
"Because the girl is 'untrained'. Though several of my contacts swear on their magic that she must've received some sort of instruction to get where she is." Illyrio replied, finishing off the last of his cheese and picking up his wine. "Yet despite this, and despite her time amongst the Dothraki who are incredibly weary of all magi, she has blossomed. Her power, her control. It is not that of a novice but rather one of a seasoned practitioners of the art. If she is given even the slightest bit of instruction those under my employ believe she could easily match any of the Northern Sorcerer's so-called 'apprentices'. Give her proper training and a few years to learn, and she might even be able to rival the man himself."
Varys did and did not like the sound of that prospect. On one hand, it would behoove them to have a counter to the Sorcerer, as no one yet had truly been able to determine the man's long-term goals and aspirations. On the other hand, he was not comfortable with the thought of one wielding magic taking up such a significant role. He was still of the mindset that magic had no place in the world. It was… unnatural. Dangerous. A sword without a hilt. Yet the undeniable fact remained that magic was not gone. And he needed to make his own peace with that knowledge. Not an easy task given his past. "And how shall we part Daenerys from Drogo? From the songs my little birds have sung, the two have apparently developed quite an attachment to one another."
"The way almost all Dothraki marriages end," Illyrio replied with a dismissive shrug. "Death. The death of Khal Drogo. Once he is removed, we will need our agents to spirit Daenerys away before she is forced to become dosh khaleen. And once she is safely away from them, we will 'reunite' her with our candidate to further our plan."
Nodding, Varys mulled the idea over in his head. "And what of Viserys?"
Illyrio scoffed. "The Beggar King is worthless to us. Fortunately, we won't have to deal with him ourselves. Based on what our agents have told me, Viserys is on his last breath amongst the Dothraki. One more step out of line, and he will die."
Varys might still find the idea of casually killing distasteful, but the death of Viserys was but a footnote in the deeds he'd overseen throughout his tenure as Master of Whispers. And in the end, the Beggar King's death was necessary for their long-term goals. "And how shall we remove the Khal? Striking at a Khal within Vaes Dothrak is no easy feat."
Illyrio nodded. "Indeed. We have to force him out of the city and into the open. Ideally in such a manner that he takes Daenerys with him so that it will be easier to spirit her away when he falls and his khalasar breaks."
Varys could think of a few ways this could be achieved, but each was dangerous and potentially costly if not done correctly. "We will have to push the khal onto the war path…That is the only way he would leave Vaes Dothrak with Daenerys. Once his khalasar is well away from Vaes Dothrak, it will be easier to slip something to the khal."
"My thoughts exactly, old friend," Illyrio nodded with a grin. "And I have just the thing to push the man into doing exactly what we want."
Varys arched a brow at his friend. "And what is your plan?"
Smirking, Illyrio poured himself another cup of wine. "The Khal has apparently come to love his Khaleesi, or at least what the Dothraki perceive as love. So, we use that to get him to do what we want. A simple threat against his wife, a threat that can be traced back to the Iron Throne, and Khal Drogo's bloodlust will do the rest for us."
Leaning back, Varys thought it over. "Tell me your plan, old friend."
The sound of his quill scratching against the newly pressed paper, a product of the Westerlands that Tywin had invested a great amount of coin to see come to fruition, was the only sound within the solar of the Warden of the West and Lord of the Westerlands. Sitting behind his desk with a low burning oil lamp for light, Tywin Lannister worked late into the night, absentmindedly filling out one missive after another, giving out orders and commands to his bannermen regarding recent developments. The death of Jon Arryn had been a surprise throughout the land. Though in retrospect, it shouldn't have been. Arryn had ascended to his seat while Tywin was still in swaddling clothes. Though despite his age, Tywin had still been wary of the man as he considered him one of the five great players in the game. The other four being himself, Doran Martell, Olenna Tyrell, and Alim Nox.
While he could never truly prove it, Tywin was convinced that it was Jon Arryn that'd incited the Ironborn to press their luck years ago when they declared their independence from the Iron Throne and sacked Lannisport. After all, it was Robert and the Iron Throne that truly prospered after the defeat of the Ironborn. Tywin had been forced to take his eyes off the Iron Throne and the goings on in King's Landing for some time to reaffirm his position in the West, and in that time Robert's reign, and Jon Arryn's placement as Hand of the King and leader of Westeros, had been affirmed. While Tywin had truly despised the man and had been plotting his removal for years, he would admit that it had been a masterful play on Arryn's end. But now, Tywin's revenge had been taken from him by time, and with Arryn's death a void had been created that the lesser players of Westeros were now desperately trying to fill.
Obviously, a new Hand of the King would need to be named. Which Tywin was willing to bet would be done at the recently announced tournament at Harrenhal to celebrate three hundred years of a united Westeros under the rule of the Iron Throne. Even more obvious to Tywin was the fact that he, and he alone, was the only one truly qualified in the Seven Kingdoms to take up the vacant post as Hand of the King. After all, he had served as Hand for twenty of the most prosperous years the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. But he was no fool, and he knew Robert too well enough to know that the man was. Despite being the only true choice for Hand of the King, he knew that Robert would sooner take a vow of celibacy rather than appoint him as Hand of the King. No, the King would more than likely appoint someone close to him as Hand. And there was none closer to the King than Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.
There were far worse choices, he supposed. Lord Stark was one of the few in the land that was known to be able to say 'no' to the King. Something no one on the current Small Council was capable of doing considering the sizable debt the crown had wracked up to House Lannister alone. If anyone could truly reign in the King's spending habits, and worse habits, it was Lord Stark. And the man had no head for the game. Which would make it quite easy for Tywin to predict his moves and even steer him in certain directions that would benefit House Lannister. But there was a problem with Stark being appointed as Hand of the King. And that problem was the simple fact that Stark would not be heading to King's Landing alone. No, with Jon Arryn now dead, there was no one in King's Landing that was capable of stalling Robert from finalizing his appointment of Lord Nox to the waiting position on the Small Council as 'Master of the Arcane'. A position Tywin knew was being held open specifically for Lord Nox. And Nox was not a man that Tywin, or anyone for that matter, could easily manipulate. And he would protect Stark, as he'd been doing for years now as the North's influence grew.
Finishing the missive, Tywin placed his quill in his ink pot and left the letter open on his desk to give the ink a chance to dry. But while the waters of King's Landing would become far more difficult to navigate, the waters of the North would become far more open to him. Lord Stark would accept the position as Hand, as he was honor bound to do. Nox would finally take up his position as Master of the Arcane, which would then also bring his wife, Lady Nox, out of the North. With all three leaving the North, that would leave Stark's son, Robb Stark, an untested greenboy in terms of the game, as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The boy was unfortunately recently married to the daughter of one of the Triarchs of Volantis of all women. Which meant that he would not be able to use a woman to sway the boy. And any overt moves on his part would no doubt be noticed and countered by his father and Nox. But with the major players out of the North, he would be able to make some subtle moves with the aid of the spies Tyrion had managed to slip into the North. Perhaps one of the few useful things the creature had managed to do. And speaking of his spies…
Picking up a small wooden hammer on his desk, he brought it down against a wooden block on his desk, a signal to the guards stationed outside his room. "Send Clegane in," he ordered the guards on the other side of his door as he set the hammer down and began heating up a stick of wax to seal the letter he'd been working on.
The door opened almost immediately as the hulking form of his most vicious bannerman made his way in. The 'Mountain Who Rides' towered over Tywin, especially as he was still seated, and Clegane was standing. But even despite the difference in their size, Tywin was not even the slightest bit unnerved. Unlike others, he knew how to handle the likes of Clegane.
Picking up the heated wax, Tywin let a small puddle of wax form on the edges of the letter before pressing his sigil against the wax and setting it aside to harden. He then picked up another piece of paper and began to write, all the while Clegane stood silent before him. "You know why I have called you before me."
A low growl rumbled from within the chest of the giant, yet Tywin did not grace him by looking up to his eyes. "Because of the bitch girl?"
Nodding, Tywin thought over what to write in the letter before picking up his quill and beginning his work. "Yes. I give you much, Clegane. In return, you have been my most faithful and useful bannerman. However, I have made it clear that there are several that would remain beyond your reach. That girl, she was of use to me. Alive. But you took a fancy to her, lost control of your urges, and then raped her bloody before crushing her head. She served a purpose while alive. And her death could prove to be quite…problematic if it were to become more well-known than it already is."
He could practically feel the confusion coming from Clegane. While many considered the Mountain just a mindless killer, the man did possess a fair head for tactics and strategy, both on and off the field of battle. But when his blood lust and lust got the best of him, he lost his mind. As was the case back during the sacking of King's Landing. "She was just a serving bitch. What use could she have had to you, my lord?"
Ceasing his writing, Tywin looked up at Clegane. "That is not your concern. Nor should it ever be your concern. When I say someone is of use to me, you do not question it and respect my words."
Clegane didn't retort as Tywin turned his gaze back to what he was working on. "A Trial by Combat then, my lord?"
"No," Tywin countered. "While that girl's death is unfortunate, the issue it presents is not beyond salvaging. But only if the knowledge of her death is contained to the few who know at present. As such…" He trailed off as he reached to his waist and pulled out a small dagger from his belt and placed it on the desk before him.
Clegane didn't need to be told what was expected off him. Wordlessly, the Mountain rolled up the sleeve of his left arm exposing his bare flesh before picking up the dagger Tywin had offered him. Without even a moment's hesitation Clegane sunk the tip of the dagger nearly a finger width deep into his flesh before dragging it along the length of his arm. The only sign of pain being the slight shaking in his massive arm and his quickened breath. There were several other similar marks along the man's arm that were healed over, scars to remind Clegane of just who was in command. After opening his arm from wrist to elbow, Clegane pulled the dagger from his flesh and set it back atop Tywin's desk, the tip red with the man's blood.
"There are prisoners for you to bleed," Tywin commented idly, not even caring that Clegane was bleeding on his floor. He would have a girl come and clean it later. "On the morrow I have a task for you and your best."
Clegane immediately stood straighter, the man not even caring about the blood freely flowing down his arm. "Who?"
Dusting the latest missive, Tywin set it aside and grabbed a blank piece of paper. "The Lords of the Crag has grown lax in sending their due when it is required of them. There is a small hamlet just within their borders near Ashemark. You will make an example of them. And leave no eyes that can say it was you."
Clegane smiled at the prospect of spilling blood and spreading chaos. "It will be done, my Lord."
"Good. Leave." Tywin commanded, a command which Clegane followed without hesitation as he stormed out of the room before turning and heading down the hall, no doubt to where Tywin had prepared a few prisoners for him to express himself upon.
Setting his quill aside, Tywin folded his hands under his nose. Clegane, while useful, was starting to become problematic. In truth, he should have had him removed after his blunder with Elia Martell. But it was rare to find such a weapon as Clegane and he wasn't about to discard him unless he had no other choice. At least that was his thinking just after the end of the Targaryen Dynasty. But now things had changed. And Clegane was starting to become more of a liability than an asset. Yet there might still be a few ways for the man to prove useful to the cause of House Lannister. Tywin would just have to carefully see them done. And then once Clegane had exhausted his usefulness, he would be removed.
With those issues well in hand, Tywin refocused on another issue that had come to light. And that was of the recreation of Valyrian Steel, now being heralded as 'Northern Steel'. He now understood why Nox was so willing to give away the secrets which had garnered the North so much coin and influence across both Westeros and Essos. But even more unsettling than the fact that the North and the North alone now controlled the market on new Northern Steel was the one that was credited for it's discovery. Nox held the lion's share of the credit of course, but the smith that'd held the hammer had been a bastard boy. One of Robert Baratheon's bastards no less.
If legitimized, which was all but expected given the bastard's hand in the discovery, he could potentially be in line for the throne. Not in front of Tywin's own grandsons of course, but he would still be added to the line of succession. Which was something that Tywin was not fond of happening. The Dance of the Dragons was still well known in the minds of many. And even if the bastard had no intention of ever sitting on the Iron Throne, Tywin would not suffer even an unknowing rival to his legacy. A legacy that he had spent his life carefully cultivating.
'Perhaps…Perhaps something is salvageable after all.' Tywin thought as he folded his hands before his face. 'The Stark boys are wedded and betrothed…but the bastard is not. And he has not been placed into a line of succession yet. He stands to inherit nothing, and few Lords even know of his existence, so they have not yet begun sending offers of their daughters to him. Perhaps instead of having her ensnare a wolf…Joy needs to instead ensnare a stag instead.'
Yes. That would be ideal. The boy had this Force power, perhaps not in the measure that the Stark boys had it, but it was still there. And he held the secret to Valyrian, or rather Northern Steel. Yes, he would turn the offer he had been prepared to offer the Stark bastard and instead offer it to the Baratheon bastard. 'Joy's hand. Gold. Lordship. And his choice of Castamere or Tarbeck Hall. Either would serve well for a smith. Yes. I will send a missive to Joy immediately and tell her to turn her affections from the Starks to the bastard boy. Even going so far as to give the lad her maidenhood as well. Which would work even more in House Lannister's favor once the King inevitably legitimizes him as I can use his soiling of Joy to force the issue of betrothal. Yes…I may not catch a wolf as I'd hope. But a smith-Stag will do for a consolation prize.'
If one had asked Dany even a year past if she would find enjoyment in a life where she'd been married to a Dothraki Khal, she would've scoffed and denied the very idea. But she would've been wrong, so very wrong. Sure, the Dothraki were a brutal people that raided when they needed or wanted too. But there was more to them than just raiding and killing. The Dothraki, her people, had a culture that was brutal yet beautiful at the same time. They respected strength above all else. But not just pure physical strength, but strength of the mind and cunning as well. And while there were still those who were cautious of her because of their fear of magic, they kept those opinions to themselves. Though whether their silence was due to fear of reprisal from her husband or from herself, she could not say. But more than anything, the Dothraki respected her! She was put first. They looked up to her, listened to her and obeyed her.
Laughing at hearing the end of a humorous tale being told by one of her husband's bloodriders, Dany leaned back and into Drogo's muscled shoulder as she watched the revelry going on in the hut around them, her hand slipping down to her stomach and caressing the growing child within her womb. Her womb had begun to swell quickly, and had now reached the point where she'd had to discard most of her old clothing in favor of very loose fitting dresses, or clothes that left her stomach completely exposed to the air. 'You will be a strong one, my Rhaego,' she thought, smiling as she continued running her hand across the child within her. 'The strength of your father. The power of the Force. And the lineage of the Dragons. You will be the one to truly bring back the glory of Valyria to Essos. Let my brother or the Usurper fight over the Iron Throne…I no longer care for Westeros. I want to create a new home, starting in Vaes Dothraki and one day spreading to Bravoos and down to Volantis. I want to unite the Free Cities once again and turn them into the greatest empire the world has ever seen. And my husband, my sun and stars, agrees with my vision. Together, we will do what has not been done since the fall of the Valyrian Empire over four centuries past.'
But just as Dany was about to get up to reach for some more food, she heard a commotion at the entrance to the hut. "Get your hands off me! I demand to be let in! I know she's in there! And I demand to be let in as well!"
Dany let out an exasperated sigh as she felt her husband stiffen next to her in response to hearing her brother call out for her. "Let him come," she said in Dothraki, prompting whoever it was that was stopping her brother from entering to step aside and let him pass.
The moment her brother stepped foot into the hut, Dany immediately regretted letting him in. She could tell just from the sight of him that he was two bottles past drunk by this point. And worse yet, he was wearing his sword on his hip! In Vaes Dothrak! To wear steal was against the law. To bear it…would be death. Something not even she would be able to prevent. And while her love for her brother was simply due to the fact that he was her brother, she still did not wish to see him die. "Viserys," she said, rising slowly to her feet as the weight of pregnancy had started to hinder her movements.
Her brother wobbled as he turned to and fro, trying to see where she was even though she was the only one in the hut that was standing. "Ah! There she is…the queen whore herself," Viserys smiled, then burped, as his eyes finally rested upon her. "Great Khal," he said, going into a drunken bow, "I've come to join the celebration of my whore sister finally producing you an air – heir."
Her husband appeared less than amused at the display, something which Dany shared with him. "You may sit at the back of the tent, over there." Her husband said in Dothraki, motioning towards the far side of the hut well away from the two of them.
"What did he say!?" Viserys demanded, taking a drunken half-step towards her.
"You have a seat, Viserys," Dany told her brother evenly, raising her hand and pointing towards the far side of the hut. "Over there, along the back. If you wish to stay, take your seat, eat your meal, and do so quietly. If you feel you cannot, then leave. And for the love of dragons, take off your bloody sword, you idiot. It's against the law in Vaes Dothrak to carry steel. You should know this by now, brother."
Her brother turned, staring off towards the back of the hut with a sneer. "Back there? With the whores and servants? Bah, that is no place for a King! I will sit right here! Tell this fucker here to move so I can sit!"
"You. Are no. King."
Even Dany was surprised to hear her husband say the words in the common tongue instead of Dothraki. All eyes, even her brothers, was on her husband as he glared hatefully at Viserys. 'Please brother,' she silently pleaded to him. 'Please leave…we may have our differences… But it would still pain me if you did something irredeemable, which it looks like you are close to. So please…just leave.'
"I am a King!" Viserys roared, then to the shock of everyone, he drew his sword, baring live steel in Vaes Dothrak. "I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms! The rightful King! And we made an agreement between the two of us Khal Drogo, and agreement that you have not fulfilled!"
"Brother, Viserys." Pulling on the Force, she lifted her hand preparing to persuade her brother to leave no matter what was needed. "Please, have a seat an—"
Her words, and any thoughts she had, died as the tip of her brother's sword drifted through the air towards her, stopping just above her swollen belly and the child she carried within her. Her hand stilled and the Force failed her as any calm she had within her was replaced with fear. A fear not for herself, but a fear for the child she carried within her. On the other end of the sword, her brother was smirking at her, either not noticing or not caring about how quiet the hut had become the moment he'd made his move. "I want what was promised, dear sister," Viserys said, his voice dripping with venom as the cold steel tip of his sword touched her belly. "Drogo bought you, used you…but never paid for you. I want what was promised, sister. I want my crown. Otherwise, I'm going to take you back and find a new buyer for you, one that won't mind the fact that you've been used like a whore for a Dothraki Khal. And one that will pay for what he buys."
Doing all she could to stay still and control her breathing, Dany faced down her brother. "And what of my son? Your nephew?"
"My nephew?" Viserys scoffed, the tip of his blade now pressing against her flesh just shy from hard enough to draw blood, "that…creature you carry within you is of no relation to me. And as for what I'll do with it…if Drogo wants his spawn that badly, then I'll cut it out of you here and now and leave it for him. I want my crown, Dany…and I will get it. No matter what I have to do."
And with that, any remaining feelings she had for her brother were gone. Though she did briefly wonder if she even did love her brother beyond the fact that he was her brother. He'd certainly never done anything to show he'd loved her beyond keeping her fed when they were children. But she realized now that the only reason he even did that was because he needed her to trade for an army to retake his throne. The only thing that he ever truly cared about or loved. And now, not even the fact that he was her brother could save him. He'd not only drawn his blade in Vaes Dothrak, but he'd threatened both Dany, a Khaleesi, and the khalakka that she carried within her. Turning, she saw her husband staring at her with Irri by his side, no doubt translating everything her and her brother were saying.
She could feel the anger, no, the fury rolling off her husband as if he were an inferno setting a whole city ablaze. Yet despite his fury, he was staring, waiting for her. Glancing back at her brother and the sword he held at her unborn child, Dany felt…nothing. Glancing back towards her husband, she gave a single sharp nod. And it was with that nod that she knew that there was no going back. Her future in Westeros was gone.
Approval and admiration, of all things, flowed off her husband as he glanced towards Viserys before speaking, leaving Irri to quickly translate for her brother who had yet to still pick up even the basics of the Dothraki language. "I will give you your crown, brother of my Khaleesi. I will give you a crown that men will gaze upon and tremble in fear of for a hundred years. I will give you a crown that you will wear for eternity till your bones have turned to dust. I will give you the golden crown that you crave so desperately. And I will do so now."
Viserys smiled widely, his sword leaving her swollen belly and returning to its sheath. "That is all I ever wanted."
Rising to his feet, Dany watched emotionlessly as her husband approached her. Meeting his eyes, Dany felt her husband's strong hand caress her belly and their child within, his fingers lingering where Viserys's sword had been pressing against her flesh. "Hold him. Empty the pot."
Taking a step back, Dany watched as her husband moved away from her towards the cooking fire and the pot that Irri had just upended. As he did, two of her husband's bloodriders came up from behind Viserys. Without a word, the two bloodriders manhandled her brother, breaking his arm and making him cry out in agony as they forced him to his knees. "Wha – You can't do – I'm the Dragon! Dany! Dany, tell them to release me now! Tell them to let me go!"
But Dany didn't say a word. Not as her brother was forced to his knees before her, and not as her husband took off his heavy gold-plated belt so that he could drop it into the now empty pot that was over the fire. Feeling someone come up beside her, Dany glanced quickly sideways to find Ser Jorah standing by her side. The man stepped slightly in front of her and turned his back towards her brother as if he were trying to block her eyes from what was about to happen. "You should not watch this, Khaleesi."
Taking her eyes off her kneeling brother, Dany fixed Jorah with a level stare. "The one who casts the sentence should hold the sword, Ser Jorah. You of all should appreciate that. I will not look away. Not from this."
Jorah blinked, clearly not expecting her to say such a thing to him. Using the back on her hand, she gently pushed against Jorah's arm, urging the man to move out of her way just as Drogo lifted the cooking pot off the fire by the spits that held it and slowly walked over to her kneeling brother. Realization dawned through Viserys' drunken haze as he began thrashing wildly against the strong hands holding him in place. "Dany! Dany, please! Please…no! Don't! – Don't let! – Please!"
But Dany didn't say a word as Drogo stepped in front of her brother and lifted the pot towards him. "A crown for a king!"
Dany had to swallow the bile that rose quickly in her throat as she watched, silently, as Drogo twisted the pot, pouring the melted gold out and onto her brother's waiting head. Her brother screamed, a god-awful scream of pure agony as the melted gold touched his head and began running down his face, melting his skin and scalding his very skull before cooling enough to harden. Through it all, Dany forced herself to remain still and watch her brother's death. Even after Drogo had emptied the entire pot and squatted down in front of Viserys so that he could watch the life leave her brother's eyes, Dany kept watching. Even after the bloodriders let go of his arms, letting his corpse fall face first to the ground with a heavy thud, Dany kept her eyes fixated on her brother. And through it all, she felt nothing.
"Khaleesi—" Ser Jorah began, only to stop as she held up a hand to silence him.
"He was no Dragon," she said lowly, staring down emotionlessly at the corpse that used to be her brother. "Fire…cannot kill a Dragon."
Gasping and almost jumping out of his bed, Jon Snow blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to find his sight in the darkened Lord's chamber within Winterfell that his father had granted him use of while he and the others were in the south for the Tourney of Harrenhal. Glancing around the room, Jon tried to find what it was that'd awoken him so suddenly but there was nothing in the room to explain it. Nor was the guard that'd been posted outside the chamber doors calling out to him. He only just barely managed to keep himself from jumping as he felt a warm hand slowly crawl up his naked back. "Umm…what is it, Jon?"
Bringing his heart back under control, Jon turned his sight from the darkened room to the beauty that was lying beside him, bare as the day she was born with only the thinnest of furs over her flesh for warmth. Despite not saying their vows before the heart tree, Ygritte was as much his wife as Arianne would soon be. And everyone in the North knew this, which was why no one said anything when she had moved into the Lord's chamber with him after his father and siblings had departed Winterfell over a moon's turn ago. "It's nothing," he said, though whether he was trying to convince her of that or himself he wasn't sure. Leaning over he pressed a light kiss to her brow. "Go back to sleep."
Ygritte merely groaned, her eyes never even opening as she rolled over, kicking some of the furs off of her and leaving her breasts exposed to the night air.
Envying her ability to seemingly ignore the cold, Jon conceded that he would not be getting back to sleep any time soon. Pushing off his own furs, Jon swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as his feet touched the cold stones beneath them. Finding his breaches and underclothes, Jon quickly got dressed and left the bed and his lover behind in favor of the hearth. Grabbing another log, Jon placed the wood atop the still burning coals, watching as the flames leapt back to life and began devouring the new piece.
Sinking down before the fire, Jon crossed his legs and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift into the Force as he tried to find what had awoken him. It didn't take him long. Almost as soon as he cleared his mind, he felt the torment of pain, grief and sorrow seeping through the Force bond he shared with Dany. Following the torrent of emotion though the Force, Jon suddenly found himself before Dany. Even with her back turned to him and unable to see his face, he could feel just how…unbalanced she was. "Dany…" he called out to her, unsure of where to even start.
When she turned to him, he almost wanted to take a step back. Her face was…blank. No emotion. Nothing. She was just staring blankly at him as if she didn't have a single thought in her mind. "Jon," she responded simply.
Gathering himself, he knelt in front of her so that the two were at eye level with one another. "What…What happened, Dany?" Something had to have happened. The Dany he knew was almost far more collected than this.
Blinking slowly, Dany looked at him, though he could tell she wasn't focused on him at all. "My brother…Viserys…"
Anger swelled within him at the mention of her brother. From what she'd told him, the man was a younger version of the Mad King, and not someone Jon wanted anywhere near Dany. "What did he do? Did he—Did he hurt you? Is your babe alright?"
"No, yes." Dany answered him, shaking her head and surprising him as slight tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes. "My son, my Rhaego, he still swells within me. And Viserys…He won't hurt anyone again…ever. He – He's dead. And I – I did nothing but watch. But more than that I…I wanted him to die…No, not just die…I wanted him to suffer…and he did. Gods, Jon, he suffered at my order."
Rocked by what she'd just told him, Jon reached out and placed his hands atop of hers. While they couldn't physically touch each other like this, they'd learned that they could send the feeling of touch to one another through the Force. "Tell me everything, Dany."
And she did. She told him of how she was feasting with her people when her brother came in drunk, demanding that Khal Drogo march his armies. To emphasize his point, he drew his sword and threatened to cut out Dany's son and leave the child for Drogo while taking Dany back to sell her to someone else who would march for him. What the man had done was so…infuriating that Jon could not find it in himself to fault Dany when she'd given her consent for her brother's execution at the hands of her husband. The pouring of melted gold over the man's head to kill him put him off more than slightly, but Jon would be a liar if he said that Viserys had not earned his death.
"There…There was nothing you could have done, Dany. Your brother, he… He broke so many laws of gods and men that he earned his death."
"Maybe," Dany answered, still not fully meeting his eyes. "But he…he was my brother. And – And I just stood back and watched him die in that, I watched him die like that. And I…I felt nothing. Even as he was calling out for me and begging for help, or as he was screaming in agony as my husband poured molten gold over his head. I just stood there, watching. And feeling nothing. I – I'm a monster, Jon."
"No, you're not." Jon immediately said, adding more sensation to his touch and finally drawing her eyes to him. "A monster would not have felt 'nothing'. A monster would've been gleeful at watching such a display. And a monster sure as hells would not be feeling remorseful as you are now. No, Dany. While I might not fully agree with the…manner of his death, it was unavoidable. And you are no more a monster than I. I told you of what happened to the Maesters, right? How my father ordered them all nailed through the ankles and hung upside down and left to die? We killed dozens, hells, maybe a hundred or more that day like that. Both older and younger than myself. And unlike you, I didn't feel nothing. I felt satisfaction at seeing those who'd wronged me and my family die in such a manner. Knowing that, do you think I'm a monster Dany?"
Blinking through her unshed tears, Dany shook her head. "No."
"Then neither are you, Dany." Jon insisted, trying to give her a reassuring smile. "You are not a monster, Dany. You are in fact one of the strongest and most caring women I have ever met."
Nodding, Dany lowered her eyes. "But that's not all, Jon. My brother, and I were the last of the Targaryens, the last of the Dragon Lords of Old. And now, now it is just me…and I'm alone."
Feeling his gut tighten, Jon lowered his own eyes. "No, Dany… You are not alone. There…I know of two others that carry the Targaryen blood, the blood of the Dragon Lords. And they are both still alive and well."
Dany's entire being changed in an instant. Gone was her sorrow and anguish, replaced instead by a wide-eyed hope as she grasped onto his hands, sending a powerful wave of pressure through the Force such that he nearly winced at the sensation. "Where are they?" she asked, no, begged, her eyes wide. "Are they safe? Does the Usurper know of them? How have they managed to live for so long?"
Heart hammering, Jon swallowed and tried to mentally prepare himself. "The first is…well, I think he would be your great Uncle, or maybe more. He's the Maester for the Night's Watch, Maester Aemon. He's…probably one of the wisest men I've ever met, certainly the oldest. And he…he asked of you. He was heartened to know that some of his family survived. And he managed to survive because I honestly believe that just about everyone has forgotten about him."
Dany beamed at hearing of her oldest living family member still alive and well in Westeros. "And who is the other?"
Jon could feel himself shaking at this point. He knew this was dangerous, and stupid. But he…he couldn't just let Dany go on believing a lie. Not anymore. Not when she felt so alone. "The other… He managed to survive the war because his mother's family told a lie to the rest of the realm. A lie that everyone believed. And it has allowed him to live under a veil of anonymity because no one even knows he exists. Only a few, outside of himself know."
"Who is he? Where is he?" Dany pressed, almost desperate to know.
'Gods…This is harder than when I told Arianne and Ygritte the truth…maybe because she is family? And…And…Will she hate me for the truth? She's had to live her entire life on the run with her brother. When I have been able to live a relatively comfortable life?' "He…His name is Jaehaerys. Son…Son of Lyanna Stark by way of Rhaegar Targaryen. Taken from the Tower of Joy and raised by his Uncle, Lord Eddard Stark, as the man's own bastard son to protect him from any who would seek to harm him or use him for their own gains."
It took a moment, but slowly recognition dawned on Dany's face. And just as he'd feared, she broke their 'physical' contact and stepped back from him. "You…You are…You are the son of my brother…My – My nephew?"
Jon's heart dropped as Dany backed away from him. "Aye. My father, Eddard Stark, took me from where my mother birthed me and claimed me as his bastard son, fathered during the war. No one questioned it and…and until just recently only two people that knew the truth were still amongst the living."
Feeling Dany approach him once more, Jon looked up as Dany retook her place across from him. He fully expected the hurt and betrayal that he saw on her face and felt within her. But what he was not expecting was the…joy and hope he felt mixed within her emotions as well. "Why? Why didn't you tell me before now?"
"I…Honestly I don't know," Jon answered her truthfully. "Only five other people even know the truth of my birth. My father and brother. Maester Aemon. And Arianne and Ygritte."
Dany was looking at him with a contemplative look. "Will you be taking the throne back?"
Jon blinked and shook his head. "Gods no…At least I don't want it. I…when I told you that you can't move forward while constantly looking back, I meant it. I don't want the throne simply because I might have a claim to it and my sire's family held it for hundreds of years. I…I want to forge my own path. Not one that is forced upon me. Just like you."
"Your 'sire'? Don't you mean your father and his family lineage?" Dany repeated, picking up on the way he'd addressed Rhaegar.
"I – Truthfully, I wanted nothing to do with the Targaryen line, Dany," Jon told her, deciding to stop hiding the truth. "My...father...Rhaegar...He wasn't the great Prince and valiant knight that everyone made him out to be. He was mad, not like the Mad King but rather in his own way. My mother and the Kingsguard that he'd left behind to keep her prisoner both left messages confirming this. He was obsessed with the prophecy of the prince who was promised. And…And he used that as his justification for doing some…horrible things. Then there were the actions of the Mad King…and I guess you can understand why I didn't want to acknowledge my dragon's blood."
"But something changed?" Dany pressed, leaning towards him slightly.
"Aye. I met you, got to know you. And Maester Aemon. Two members of the Targaryen family who were neither mad nor obsessed. I don't think that I will ever be able to refer to Rhaegar as anything other than the one who sired me. But I no longer want to reject the dragon blood within my veins either. It's a part of me, just as much as the cold blood of the wolves."
Lowering her head, Dany looked almost uncertain. "So…what happens now?"
"Now we move forward, Dany," he said, reaching out and laying his hands on her own, sending the sensation of touch to her once more. "And we learn from our shared ancestors. After Valyria fell, our ancestors did not simply let despair at what they lost overcome them. Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya instead forged a new path forward and united the Seven Kingdoms. And that is what we need to do, Dany. We should remember our past and learn from it, but we should not let what we lost consume us. We need to press forward and forge new lives. For ourselves and for our families."