Chương 2375: 10
The Enemy is Near.
King's Landing
"There's something you wish to say Missandei?"
Dany got tired of pretending Missandei's gaze wasn't on her. For hours since they had settled in the council chamber her dear friend and adviser had not taken her eyes off her — searching, watching, guessing what might it's happening with her. Daenerys' mind was on finalizing arrangements for the Great Council. Red Keep would receive guests for the first time in a long while.
"Are you sure you are fine, your Grace?"
"What did I tell you about calling me by that name when we're alone?"
Missandei smiled.
"Are you okay, Daenerys?" she reformulated.
"Of course I am fine!" Daenerys lied, again, "Is there something in me that is giving away that I am not?" she asked because she needed it to know. Missandei's sharp mind could be noticing something she was not.
"I just thought you'd be more...happy to finally be at home," she spoke softly.
"I'm glad," she pretended again, swallowing hard and forcing a smile. "It's just...it's not as easy as I expected."
Missandei walked over to sit in the chair next to her and took Dany's hands in hers.
"The last time I saw you in this state, you were mourning the loss of the good Ser Barristan. Is there something you need to tell me? Something you cannot entrust to Lord Tyrion or Lord Varys?"
And where to start?
Every time she shared the room with her friend, Dany couldn't breathe.
How many years did she spend mourning Missandei's death? The death of her children? There was no remedy for the kind of pain Daenerys felt. And burdening Missandei with it, especially without the certainty that she had saved her friend from her tragic fate...Dany couldn't do that.
This pain was only hers to carry.
So she just smiled and reassured, "I am fine," in a whisper, holding Missandei's puzzled face with one hand, "I'm fine."
The chamber doors opened and two of her bloodriders, Qhono and Brakho entered.
"Khaleesi, this man claims to know you," Qhono said.
Her heart leapt out of her chest.
She had not anticipated that this moment would come today.
Behind her bloodriders, Jorah approached.
***
Tyrion and Varys gathered on one of the exposed balconies at the east wing of Red Keep, not to behold at the wonderful view that stretched beyond the gardens and the towers but below, where Daenerys and Ser Jorah Mormont sat in their solitude, rediscovering each other after almost a year since they split paths; at the sight of anyone who had access to the right place within the castle as themselves.
"She seems too moved by his reappearance," Varys commented.
"She thought she wouldn't see him again," Tyrion explained.
"Yes, of course. But these days, she shows herself guarded, distant...and suddenly, the facade fell off," Varys continued insisting, his sharp observation always put in checking Dany's demeanor. Obsessed somehow not to miss any sign of insanity. "I rather have her serene. Have you already mentioned to her Lord Redwyne's proposal?"
Tyrion eyed him with an arched eyebrow. It was a sudden change of subject.
"I thought you would since you were the one who brought her two key allies last time," Tyrion replied in a stern tone of voice, still resentful of the alliance with the woman who killed his innocent niece Myrcella.
"Oh no, my Lord. Make no mistake. My function is not to arrange those kinds of alliances. Furthermore, my assignment has been selected and delimited, to reclaim the network that Maester Qyburn has usurped." He made a pause and considered it. "Nonetheless, if I am allowed to have a voice in it, I will suggest that we first consider other possible options."
"What other possible options?"
"The King in the North, of course," Varys said, "The matter that our Queen is determined to set aside."
"Well, there's a reason for it. The reason she entrusted us with."
"That she is barren," Varys recalled. "That's terribly unfortunate, but not something that should be addressed. Not yet." With his hands tucked into his broad sleeves, he turned on his heels and started walking inside. Tyrion followed him. "While I am inclined to let those matters be dealt with, I still believe she's our better, if not only choice, to improve our current situation. A couple of good years that could set the foundations and then we could start the search of a proper successor." As he said this, thoughts of a new order ran through his mind. "Lord Redwyne can surely help her solidify her power in the south, but with the King in the North she can unite Westeros into one again."
Tyrion scoffed.
"And who told you the Northerners will want to be one with the rest of Westeros again?"
"As a city under siege, food and security will coerce them into reason," Varys said.
***
Daenerys's hand trembled on top of Jorah's, not because she had any concern that the grayscale was still there but because she couldn't yet assimilate that he was there truly, after holding his dying body in her arms while watching him give his last breath, leaving her alone in this world.
Her protector and her confidant, gone with what little hope she had within herself.
"So this Samwell Tarly," Daenerys spoke, lifting her gaze from his hand to his eyes, "He healed you?"
In her previous life, she had overlooked this bit of information. By the time she took notice of it, it was too late to stop the consequences.
"When no one else wanted to," Jorah affirmed. His gaze was tender and understanding.
"Do you consider him a good person?"
"Yes, I do."
She shared with him about her conundrum regarding the fates of Lord Tarly and his son, knowing that he would reveal to her that it was Samwell Tarly who saved his life and brought him back to her. In her heart, Daenerys did not find enough strength not to resent Jon Snow's best friend, but neither did she find enough resentment to hate him after having given Jorah another chance, even if it was for a little time.
Daenerys took in a deep breath.
"They tried to oust Lady Olenna Tyrell. If they had succeeded, they would have killed every man in Highgarden, and they would have killed my ally, stolen her gold and her food to bring it to Cersei—"
"But they didn't," Jorah cut her off, although he then recanted, "As a criminal myself, I have no right to influence your decisions."
He tried to retire his hand from hers but Dany stopped him.
"I too—" she almost said, but then she remembered this was not her previous life. Jorah never learned about her crimes. "I've done horrible things too," she stated.
He squeezed her hand and looked earnestly into her eyes.
"And wonderful things that no one else would have done in your place," he reminded her. "And many times, you have stood in the face of adversity to make the right decision when everyone believed it was not. You have a gentle heart, Khaleesi. Don't ever forget that."
***
The Hound cursed as the wooden box where the wight was placed and locked up shook with a sudden movement that thing made, and in response, the former knight kicked it and sent the object to the other side of the cabin. Annoyed, Arya reminded Sandor Clegane that if the box wrecked and the wight escaped, he would have to hunt the wight again.
Jon watched the scene with a sneaky smile, absently carving a figure out of a piece of wood. What initially began as a direwolf became a winged beast — a dragon.
"Do you think the Dragon Queen killed Cersei?"
Jon flinched and hid his piece. Arya had gotten into the annoying habit of just showing up.
"I hope so," he answered, sincerely.
"Well, I hope no," she answered back.
Jon knew of Arya's wishes for revenge against the Lannisters, a wish that he himself held but in a quieter way; hoping that the consequences of their own actions would soon catch with them.
"Why? Are you going to kill her yourself?" he quipped.
"Do you think I wouldn't?" Arya asked an eyebrow shot up. She sat next to him, and together they watched as the cargo ship approached King's Landing port.
"I killed the Freys," Arya blurted out.
Jon looked up straight ahead, then over at her.
"What?"
"Poison," she continued, "And I baked a couple of them to feed their disgusting father with it." Her gaze grew absent as if reliving it. "And after I told him he ate his sons, I proceeded to cut Lord Frey's throat open and watched him bleed to death."
There was only silence. Even the Hound made no sound as he listened to it.
"All of them?" Jon asked her.
"All of them," Arya affirmed.
"Guilty or otherwise?"
Arya whipped her face at him.
"All of them who had partaken in the red wedding," she assured.
"And how were you sure they all did?"
Arya looked at him with wide eyes and an expression cold as ice.
"Tell me, Jon, do you single out those of your enemies that were were forced by their lieges from those who take part willingly? No. You don't. I don't either. If they wear the colors of my enemy, they are my enemy."
Arya got up from the bench they were sharing and walked onto the deck, leaving Jon and the Hound speechless and dumbfounded.
***
An escort made up of what he believed to be Dothraki men stood in King's Landing port, alongside soldiers in Dornish garments and another group of savage-looking men and women who reminded him of the Ironborn. Jon and his entourage found themselves surrounded in every angle.
The only familiar face was Tyrion Lannister.
"The Bastard of Winterfell," he greeted him.
"The dwarf of Casterly Rock," Jon replied.
It was not an insult but a reminder of times past. Tyrion almost smiled at his answer.
"What brought you to the shores of King's Landing? I take it's not to willingly bow to our Queen," he said, but before Jon could answer, Tyrion looked beyond him at Arya and took a step back as if he had seen a ghost, "Arya Stark..." he barely mumbled.
"Imp," Arya acknowledged him.
"Arya," Jon tried to scold her
"No offense taken," Tyrion rushed, "I just thought...you were dead."
"I was dead," Arya replied with a cold expression, looking down at him, "Every time somebody of your damned family killed a member of mine, I died a bit."
Tyrion sighed and nodded, lowering his head.
"I suppose that I should apologize in the name of House Lannister," he said.
"There's no time for that," Jon interrupted them, walking closer to Tyrion and stirring the guards that were with them. Tyrion beckoned them back. "We bring Queen Daenerys a message. She must learn about the threat that is approaching us from the North."
"A threat? What threat?" Tyrion asked, confused.
The Hound came down the ramp with the box placed on his back and strapped with a harness to him as this shook violently with the restless wight inside of it.
"The dead," Jon replied.
***
Tyrion convinced Queen Daenerys's guards that his presence was to be trusted, though they still eyed him suspiciously. One of them, an Unsullied who went without a helmet or weapons, gave Jon a deadly look, one that he could swear having seen before.
Jon squeezed his eyes as a headache took the sides of his head and his sight.
He decided that he hated this place. Not only its insufferable heat and its foul smell but also that so many people could gather together to inhabit one same place.
"You came in the right time," Tyrion commented on the way to the place where they would meet the Queen, "The other members of the Great Council started arriving yesterday."
"How many?" Jon asked him, a bit too eager.
"Most of those who were invited," Tyrion simply replied. "Speaking of which, how did you know...?"
"Sansa," he answered quickly.
"Oh," Tyrion blurted out, astonished and pensive, "How is she? Ours was an unfortunate affair. Forced by my father to keep an advantage over Robb... unconsumed, as well."
"Sansa is fine," Jon said shortly. He looked around and stopped on his track, realizing that Arya was nowhere to be found.
"What's the matter?" Tyrion asked, also making a stop.
Jon swallowed hard and told himself that he must end this matter now before something else came between him and the message he needed to deliver to some of the most powerful lords of the Seven Kingdoms. Once he did do, it was their choice whether to sit and watch the world fall or join in a single front to stop it.
He said nothing and keep moving forward.
***
"You better wait here," Tyrion advised once they had reached Dragon Pit, the ancestral home of the Targaryens dragons, where the beasts once made their lairs. Jon remembered it from Maester Luwin's lessons. "I hope your Grace does not take it as an offense that we have not prepared a place for you," he added in a more playful tone.
"No offense taken," Jon returned his own words.
In the center of that magnificent field, there was a tent and several chairs prepared for the members of the Great Council. More chairs than Jon would have thought. However, they were all empty. The reunion was yet to start and he was the first one — the uninvited one — to show up.
Jon wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead, suddenly going into a nervous state. What if Arya and everyone else were right in their assumptions about the Dragon Queen? After all, Jon didn't know her. Yes, he had seen her in dreams. Or he thought he'd seen her. But what kind of assurance was that? He knew nothing else about her.
If she chose not to listen to him and to use his reckless visit as an opportunity to kill him, then he would have brought an abrupt end to himself and put his people at even greater risk. All for nothing.
These days it was impossible to think clearly with all those pernicious thoughts in a jumble in his mind.
The headache grew stronger and for a moment it almost made him cry out in despair until the earth began to shake and the wind to blow stronger.
A shadow covered the sun and the unmistakable screech of a beast broke upon the quietness of the Dragonpit.
All those who accompanied him crossed away, searching for hiding anywhere on the other side of the pit. Jon remained stilled on his feet, watching as the black beast landed in the stands, first on its hind legs and then on its front, as this let out its mighty cry and slowly stretching out its long neck to observe him more closely.
Jon could swear he felt the heat emanating from its scaly skin.
Yet the sight of it was nothing compared with what came next, when the Dragon Queen peaked out behind the spines of her dragon and looked at Jon with an expression that seemed confused, distressed, and amazed at the same time.
Dany.
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