Bab 2379: 14
Chapter Text
14.
The Queen's Great Council Pt.3
"So what if I decide to send all my armies and my dragons to seize the North?"
Her words reached into his heart and flooded him with trepidation. Their exchange had turned hostile in a strange, personal way when it all had started out very formal. Jon's thoughts raced in rapid succession of horrifying images of death and horror and then nothing as if he were lost in the farthest parts beyond the wall.
Her threat, only accentuated by that firm tone and icy gaze made his blood boil and his teeth clench. What bothered Jon the most was that she was underestimating him.
There were flashes of hurt again in her defiant gaze, and he couldn't figure out why. In his dreams, she looked the same, as if she carried with her a deep and dark secret that no one else knew except him.
Images unknown to him flashed before his gaze, of Daenerys and her hurt gaze on him.
NO.
Dany!
His hand reached for her arm in a sudden movement that have Daenerys tensing. His body had acted on its own as if she were slipping away from him. She tried to pull away but his grip was firm and strong.
Her surprise at his gesture was overshadowed only by the following words that escaped his mouth,
"Marry me," Jon said. Proposed.
Only when her jerk was forceful enough did she pull away.
"Pardon me?" she asked, voice edging.
The scandalized sound of her voice was like a sharp blow, and it brought him back to that dark and familiar place of deep self-awareness.
Taking a deep breath and before lingering there too long, Jon explained,
"If I have offended you—"
"You have," she cut him off, addressing him harshly.
"Then I apologize. But I don't take back my words. Call it faith, call it hope, but I just know what you are doing and it won't do. You have said it yourself: if you had wanted, the North would be already yours. But you have not acted in pursuit of that. There must be a reason for it, or am I wrong?"
"You are if you presumed that my intention was to coerce you into a marriage alliance," she replied. "Did you really think that I would stoop to using the strength of my armies and my dragons to get a proposal from you?" She blew out a hollow laugh. "Please Jon Snow, I have a little more respect for myself than that."
"And I don't think too highly of myself to imply it," he quickly let her know. "And yet here we are, brooding over the same matter. If you want the North, you would have it without much ado. But you choose to wait and see for an alternative. Then that's my proposal. Marry me."
Daenerys watched him in silence for a long moment and then walked some steps away to lean against the small wall again. Her back to him.
"I sent them for you to inform you that tomorrow you will have your opportunity to appear before the Great Council and make your case," she told him very dryly.
His heart soared.
At last he fell completely back into that dark and cold place, and he wanted nothing more than to run out of there. But he didn't. He regretted it for a second before moving on.
"I do not take back my words," he reiterated.
Because it was true that in all that time that they engaged in a subtle confrontation, Jon did not think at any time that he held a truth that could disarm her whole belief system. It wasn't fair to her and it made him only more confused feeling he owed her all this care.
***
After hearing him try to resume the conversation, veering toward the topic of the Council and wight, Dany couldn't hold it any longer. She dismissed him and instead of waiting for him to leave, she marched away from him.
In her frenzy to get as far away from him as possible, she bumped into Missandei on the way, who with her worried face asked where she was going and if she could accompany her. Grey Worm was not far from there.
She looked at her friend and her commander, both concerned for her. A surge of guilt and pain over the past and the damage she caused in their lives overwhelmed her to tears.
"I'm fine," she pretended to excuse herself, adjusting her posture and forcing a tight smile. "I'm fine," she repeated.
But she wasn't. She was never going to be fine again. Not as long as she was surrounded by everything she lost and could never get back. Because even with Missandei so close to her, so real in front of her, all Daenerys saw over and over was her severed body, and she felt it too, all the pain, anger, the desolation that followed. All of it too real.
"I need to breath fresh air," she said without thinking she was coming from being outside, "I need to be alone," she asked when the guards tried to follow her.
Usually, these were the times when she excused herself and go to see the dragons. However, Daenerys did not follow the path towards them.
She didn't know exactly where to go, every nook and cranny of Red Keep seemed alien and odious in an almost suffocating way.
At some point, Dany thought she got lost after so many turns and maybe, it was better if she just never come back again. But then she heard the sound of voices and murmurs coming from the end of the corridor and the sounds took her to the far end of it, where there was a half ajar door that led to an inner courtyard.
Dany leaned out to look outside without fully peaking through. There was a blend of soldiers and civilians, strolling and chatting around markets and street vendors. She found herself in some part of the castle where citizens were allowed in.
As she watched the ordinary day-to-day scene, Dany finally allowed herself to shed the tears she had held back.
All those people had probably been dead.
***
Tyrion happened to be passing by when he met Missandei of Naath on his way. The young and beautiful Naathi scribe and translator stood in front of the window, staring out with a serious and concerned countenance. If he suspected correctly, it was something related to Daenerys.
After exchanging the necessary pleasantries, he ventured a casual question, "Have you noticed that the Queen has been acting strange as of late?"
Missandei looked at him with a frown.
"She's exhausted. The strain of her duties has worn her out," she responded, edging a defensive note to her voice.
Although she had wanted to mask it, Missandei also was aware of the sudden changes in the behavior of the queen they served, he noticed.
Even after going on his way, Tyrion's thoughts kept going to Daenerys.
That strange feeling did not leave his body, the one that told him that something was wrong with the queen. It was not a concern that he could vocalize with her without risking igniting her fury or with Lord Varys who would claim madness. Furthermore, the latter was more than pleased with her new temper, arguing that whatever had made her more contemplative and calm about her in her judgment was welcome as long as all went well for the Realm.
Tyrion found himself eager to speak to someone who understood what he was going through, and there was only one last option.
***
"Look at you, still alive and well," Jaime commented when he saw Tyrion pass through the door of his cell.
Tyrion stared at the defiled image of his older brother, and his stomach tightened. It wasn't like his imprisonment at Riverlands, no. This was an improvement in comparison. But anyway, a degradation for a Lannister of Casterly Rock.
And he had made it happen.
"How are they treating you?" Tyrion asked, humorless. "Maybe I can risk a request to her majesty to allow you a bath..."
Jaime's dry cackle startled him.
"A different treatment for prisoners related to those close to the Queen? I wonder what the Grand Council will think of that. As for your question, for cockless, nameless, tongueless bastards, they surely make one understand well their dislike."
Tyrion walked around the cell and over to sit on the bench next to him. Their arms were almost touching.
"You still carry it," Jaime muttered, glancing at him, "The pin of the Hand. I bet all my money that she would give you to her dragons the moment she seize Red Keep."
"I'm still not sure it's safe to say she will not," he confessed
"Mmm," his brother mused, "She doesn't seem her father's type."
This time Tyrion laughed.
"And you know it because..."
Jaime turned serious and whipped his head at Tyrion.
"Do you think we would still be alive if not? If her father had had three dragons, there would be no unscathed land in Westeros. What's more, if our father had had three dragons..."
Tyrion swallowed hard. Jaime didn't need to finish that. They both knew it. The things Tywin would do to have the military strength that Daenerys possessed. His father would not hesitate to deploy all of it to bend the wills of his enemies. Jaime was right.
"However, with the Targaryens you never know," his brother added after a moment of silent agreement. Tyrion looked at him as he widened his eyes and gestured, "One day she might decide that none of this is enough for her, and decide that she wants to reign in the ashes instead."
"That looks more like Cersei," Tyrion replied. "And I'm sure you know that."
Even despite his sick love for their sister, Jaime couldn't deny that.
"Jaime, I have to tell you something..." Tyrion began, licking his lips and holding his hands to calm his nerves. "Cersei is with child."
The lightness of his posture receded and his shoulders tensed. His face paled and he couldn't seem to find the words until he finally asked,
"How do you know?"
Tyrion drew in a bated breath.
"She was attacked by Arya Stark, who is alive and accompanied by her brother—"
"Jon Snow, the king in the North," Jaime finished for him. "I know that, it was the last thing Cersei was informed of, before..." His eyes widened, "You said she was attacked?"
"Yeah, but she and the babe are fine. Daenerys ordered her to be tended and taken to a guarded chamber, and Arya Stark seized. Well, actually Jon Snow was ordered to."
Jaime got up and paced the small space of the cell. When he turned to see Tyrion, he had a desperate expression on his face.
"How could you let this happen?"
"I..."
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!"
His anger was something new to Tyrion, and not in the worst moments when he believed for an instant that he had something to do with Joffrey's death did Tyrion see such fury in Jaime's eyes.
"Did you have to? Did you have to kill our father? Damn you, Tyrion!"
Shaking with emotion, Tyrion approached imploring him to understand, "He condemned me to die! He has hated me since I was born just for being a dwarf! He took the woman I loved..."
"Oh, Tyrion," Jaime cut him off. "Smart for many things but not for love. You never have been. If you thought that whore was going to love you...you couldn't even see that Tysha—"
Jaime bit his tongue. Suddenly the anger turned to nervousness and he laughed.
"What does Tysha have to do with all this?" Tyrion asked, almost out of breath. The mention of his first wife, that whore Jaime had bought for him to make him believe that a woman could finally love him. The farce that showed him that it was not possible. The charade brought so much pain to his heart that Shae almost erased with her love. Love that she sold to the highest bidder, proving to him for the second time in his life that love was not worth the damage.
"What does Tysha have to do with all this?" he asked again, this time hard and forceful.
Jaime scratched his chin and looked away.
With his back to him, he said,
"She was no whore, Tyrion. I never bought her for you. That was a lie that Father commanded me to tell. Tysha was…she was what she seemed to be. A crofter's daughter, chance met on the road."
***
"Where is Lord Tyrion?" Daenerys asked, walking quickly through the passages that led from the Red Keep to the Dragonpit. Joining her were Missandei, Grey Worm, and Lord Varys. Tyrion was absent and Daenerys was wondering about him.
"Excuse me, your Grace, I'm not keeping up with his whereabouts," Varys excused.
Before Daenerys could further ask him questions, they came across Lord Desmond.
Always on guard, Grey Worm stepped forward.
"It's okay, Torgo Nudho," Dany calmed him.
"Your Grace, excuse me for my recklessness and insolence. But before we begin our meeting with the Great Council, I would like to have a word with you," Lord Redwyne required.
Dany agreed and beckoned the rest of her retinue to move on without her. Only her guard remained.
"I have not had the opportunity to express how much I feel the antagonistic role that my aunt took yesterday. I have decided that from now on I will be the one to voice out the interests of my people."
"Your people? Have you already decided to reclaim the title of Lord Paramount?"
"Unless Your Grace requires me elsewhere?" he suggested and then approached smiling tightly. "I have heard rumors, regarding Jon Snow. He's seeking an alliance with you. The sort of alliance that compromises the heart."
Daenerys, who had focused her attention on the ties on the sleeve of her dress to release tension, looked up at Lord Desmond.
"May you allow me a bit of advice? You are younger than I was when I married my first wife, the seven bless her. And yet you have the wisdom of a lifetime. Snow may be Ned Stark's bastard, but that doesn't make him a Stark. The war in the North has brought too much pain to the South. People will not see with good eyes that their queen rewards rebellion with her hand in marriage."
"Most conflicts are sorted out with these kinds of alliances. It's how things have been done since the time of my ancestors and before," she answered.
He laughed, and for some reason it made her hackles rise.
"You have a good heart, Your Grace. You want to solve conflicts with your enemies without shedding blood because you fear your father's legacy. But there are enemies who do not understand another language. Battles that are impossible to avoid. With a word from you, I will be yours now and always, and I see to it that from the Wall to Dorne, men kneel to you."
***
Jon watched again from his distant hiding place as a confrontation took place at the dais of the Great Council. Guards were fighting off a group of women.
The Hound laughed uproariously.
"Fucking dornish people," he commented.
Jon had no idea who it was, but from their appearance and from Sandor Clegane's comment, he could tell they were from Dorne.
Was the southern kingdom also in conflict with the Crown? he wondered.
Daenerys walked into the middle of the dais, her small but imposing figure dressed in a dark-colored attire, with crimson colors scattered here and there. She looked so regal and not in a way that a queen would, full of ornaments and rhinestones. Her appearance screamed a warrior rather than a queen.
A slamming sound coming from the box where the wight was kept, pulled him away from his thoughts.
"This better be over today, or that thing is going to gain enough strength to get himself out," said the Hound.
Daenerys' clear voice reached them.
"As you may know by now, it is in the city and with us right now, the King in the North, Jon Snow. Who also happens to be the son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."
Jon drew in a sharp breath.
She did not refer to him as the bastard Ned Stark, although that was implied in his name. Although her gesture meant more to him than she might think, again that feeling of sorrow compounded within him as he remembered his secret.
She continued saying,
"For many of you, it will seem strange and even disconcerting that I keep this man who openly rebels against my claim to the throne, under my roof, eating my food and drinking my wine."
He huffed humorously.
"But all that is a secondary matter, and now I will allow him to show you why."
From her place in the dais, Daenerys nodded to him and invited him over.
Notes:
I was undecided on whether or not to elaborate on what Jon would say to the Council but believed it unnecessary.
Also this chapter was already reaching 3k words and that's a no no for me with this story.
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