Chương 2392: 27
Chapter 27: Vagaries
Notes:
Quick update before a big chapter.
Hope you are all doing well.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
27.
Vagaries
Winterfell
Sansa had quills, inkpots, and a sheaf of blank parchment above the table as she oversaw the urgent matters of the North. Lord Manderly was asking Winterfell to confirm the new customs officers he had appointed for White Harbor, also suggesting that Jon, a King on his own right now, needed his own coinage and White Harbor was the very place to mint it. Also, she was carrying out a few sums just to make sure everything was in order for the next few months ahead, pondering options for alternate resources in case their alliance with the Vale and the Riverlands was prevented by the Dragon Queen.
Scarcity loomed like a foreboding, and in some places, peasants were baking their bread from peas and even fern roots, as wheat supplies were scarce and the price increasingly high.
Winter was upon them and the gods, new and old, knew that this was time for enduring great hardships.
Sansa's head shot up as Podrick Payne bustled through the Library's entrance, dragging Bran's wheelchair over to the side of the table where she sat at.
"Cersei Lannister is dead," Bran announced
She froze. Sansa's mouth dropped open in astonishment.
"She tried to flee and eventually an angry mob caught up with her and Daenerys Targaryen. Daenerys was saved, thanks in part to Jon's help. Arya also helped rescue a trusted person of the Queen. They're both safe."
Bran continued to provide her with information on the matter, while Sansa merely listened and nodded with his first words still echoing in her mind: Cersei is dead.
Later when the new was shared with the Northern lords, and they erupted in cheers and shouts, Sansa remained unfazed studying the floor, finding it difficult to take part in the celebrations.
Ever secluded in a shadowy corner, Littlefinger watched her with a keen gaze.
***
"Now that Jon and Arya have the Queen's favor, one less problem afflicts the North," Littlefinger said, searching in Sansa's frozen expression for any indication of joy. There was none.
"It does not mean that they are in her favor," she sharply pointed out, "Bran told me how it all played out. Daenerys Targaryen could have shown her gratitude more graciously yet chose to give him crumbs in return."
"I hear little sympathy in your voice, for both your brother and the Targaryen Queen," Baelish noted.
"Why should it be otherwise?" asked Sansa, dispelling the misgivings she knew she should keep close when he was involved. But it felt so outrageous, such a strange way to feel bereft. "There is a need she can exploit to get what she wants."
Littlefinger laughed as though he found something amusing.
"That is exactly how this game is played, my dear Sansa. There is always a need to take advantage of!"
She looked at him askance. Sansa was aware of what he meant and the point he was trying to make yet she couldn't follow him.
Things started to get closer and real.
Cersei was gone.
Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne.
The North was an open wound and the blood of her kindred would have been spilled for nought if she didn't manage to overpower those who seek to damage the North.
Especially the man standing there.
***
"Lady Brienne," Sansa called softly, as she entered Winterfell's armory.
The tall woman was caught by surprise while sharpening her sword.
"My lady..." she said, rising to her feet.
Sansa clasped her hands together and put on a sober expression.
"I just wanted to inform you that Jaime Lannister has been sentenced to spend the rest of his days on the Wall, stripped of all his titles and lands." Sansa lifted her chin and held her gaze. "He is currently on his way north with his brother Tyrion."
Sansa saw relief settle on Brienne's face for a moment before it returned to its normal seriousness.
Brienne bowed her head slightly.
"It wasn't necessary, my Lady. But I do thank you nevertheless."
"Hm," Sansa replied simply, turning on her heel and walking back to her rooms. She was aware of the fondness Brienne harbored for that evil excuse of a man. She only wanted to give Brienne something in return for all of the things that she did for her.
***
King's Landing.
In her dreams, she encountered an evil presence that chased her along long, dark and unknown corridors. Dany would sense she was being watched and wake up with a thrumming heart, gasping for breath. At night is when she felt it the most — the guilt and the loneliness. Then she would crash into bed and start weeping, muffling the sounds of it with his heavy pillow.
She had been caught quite off guard and struck afresh with the realization of the loss she was suffering again, renouncing these bonds for the sake of keeping them safe. It was the most alone she has felt in a long while.
Her mornings were spent in a similar fashion, with council meeting after council meeting, and visits throughout the city to keep abreast of the damage left behind. The longer she allowed time to pass, the more she felt the weight of apprehension. With things altered the way they were, anything could happen.
That's what she had learned.
"The wolf of the North retreated with its tail between its legs," Lord Desmond said, in another council meeting, the last she would hold before setting off North.
She had just recently granted him his precious title and name.
"It is time for Westeros, united on a single front with one strong leader at the head, to return the North to its submissive state. Your command, of course. That is why I humbly offer myself, my Queen, to be your faithful companion."
"The North is not a problem for me, Lord Desmond. But the Iron Bank is," Daenerys responded, sober.
"Of course, my Queen, that is why I come to offer you all of myself if you will accept me as your husband and partner, including my gold..."
Daenerys caught a glimpse of Lady Olenna rolling her eyes.
Wrong choice of words, she celebrated inwardly.
"Only if I accept?"
Lord Desmond seemed clueless.
"I have weighed this matter for too long now, my Lords and Ladies, enough to come to a conclusion. Throughout my life, I have encountered men whose promises have been wide and varied.
"My dead husband, Khal Drogo, granted me a Khalassar when I was but a broodmare princess; Another suitor of mine threw the heads of my enemies at my feet."
Memories just now.
"One most recently offered his hand to settle the same matter that currently occupies us," she pointed out, picturing up the moment Jon said those words and the impact it meant to her.
"I just think that gold doesn't seem so precious in the face of this record of mine," Daenerys finished.
Lord Desmond did not reply.
It was his aunt.
"Alliances are struck on reciprocity," she sharply pointed out.
"Yes. When the parties are on equal terms. I need something you have and you need something I have. But it's not like that, or is it? I saved your home from being slaughtered by your own vassals. I avenged the death of your kin. I granted House Tyrell a new heir. I raised you to the highest positions and now I allow you to come to me with the pretense that you can bargain with me on equal terms," she said. "I am merciful, but I am not naive, Lady Olenna. If my patience is tested, you run the risk to deplete it."
She drew in a large breath.
"The Crown will take the gold of House Tyrell in a forced loan to pay off its debt to the Iron Bank, a gesture of gratitude and loyalty," she announced, cutting a glance that stop the Tyrells from saying something against it. "When the time comes to decide who will reign at my side, if there are still any land to rule, then you will know you are very close to my favor," Daenerys mended, though inwardly she knew that she had no desire and no will to carry out such thing.
"Meanwhile, Westeros is on its way to becoming a graveyard. Shall we begin focusing on that matter?"
***
She was grazing her fingers on the dancing flames of the candles when she heard someone approach. She looked over at Ser Jorah, now the Hand of the Queen, walking over to where she was standing, just in front of the candelabra at the feet of the Iron Throne. Daenerys started to feel that the Throne Room never was warm enough.
"I know what you've come to tell me, that my behavior is not the best," she rushed in, like a child that already knew they were bound to be scolded.
"I actually think it was sensible to set boundaries to the Tyrells, Khaleesi." He gave her a concerned look. "What I don't understand is why you're drawing a line and pushing everyone away from you."
Daenerys comprehended what he was talking about.
"Missandei is safe. Safer than she would be by my side," she said.
"But it's not what Missandei chose. By taking her will away from her, you did exactly what the Masters did to her."
Dany winced.
"There have never been words of yours that hurt me as much as those," she said.
"And yet, it's not the first time I saw you hurting. Is it so unspeakable? What is driving you to commit yourself to hurt more than to happiness?"
Dany saw a choice in front of her.
There would be a time that destiny again would try to catch up with its whimsical will. Jorah was also a piece of it all, and she needed to protect him at any cost.
"Is it too late to advise you against going North on your own?"
"Don't you want me to try and save your countrymen?"
"You have many enemies in the North. Thousands fell fighting your father. All it takes is one angry man with a crossbow. He'll see your silver hair and know that one well-placed bolt will make him a hero. The man who killed the conqueror."
Or a well-known honorable man with a dagger and a good reason, she thought.
"What kind of Queen will I be if I'm not willing to show my face?" Daenerys objected.
"You're already a queen, and to stay one you have to be safe and well protected," Jorah insisted.
Daenerys sighed wearily.
"What if I didn't want to be that kind of queen?"
"Better to be a queen than being nothing at all," Jorah replied severely.
Dany understood. Better to be queen than to be dead. Daario had once told her the same thing, better to be a butcher than butchered.
But it was never that simple, was it? Daenerys thought.
***
White Harbor
The snowy cold poured in as his ship stole into White Harbor on the evening tide, her sail rippling with every gust of wind. At the inner harbor, a crowd of villagers and peasants gathered, surrounding his entourage as they rode toward New Castle amid shouts and cheerings. The proud and pale fortress was built atop a hill rising above the city's thick white walls.
Jon bowed his head and tried his best to look thankful and polite since it was not this part that he particularly enjoyed — the King's treatment. This was something Robb had been trained to do all his life not him.
Jon had been raised to be a shadow.
Your real name is Aegon Targaryen, said a blunt voice that force its way inside his head every time he would return to old habits of self-depreciation in the midst of this uncertainty. Yes, it was unclear yet for him, and though he was more at peace with it now it still stung...what still meant.
At the courtyard, the Manderlys and the rest of New Castle inhabitants greeted Jon on bended knee.
"My King," Lord Wyman greeted. His wrinkled, age-scarred face flushed with the effort he was exercising on his bulky body.
"Rose, my Lord. There's no need for that," Jon quickly dismissed with a heartfelt smile.
Hastily he passed among the members of his household, including his son Lord Wylis and his granddaughters Wynafryd and Wylla, who Jon only recalled from childhood memories.
Those present did not disguise their wariness when they noticed that behind Jon, from a carriage, Lord Varys descended and stood a healthy distance away.
"I hope Winterfell has served well in my absence, my Lord," Jon said, trying to divert the focus and resolve the tension by bringing up an issue that was of greater concern.
Aware of the limited fish stocks, Jon issued a long-term design before leaving home, in seek of obtaining better management of resources and guaranteeing their sustainability of it. After all, it was what he had done for years in the Night Watch.
Lord Manderly watched him intently.
"We have heard of the Cersei Lannister's demise. I don't know if his Grace played any part on it but finally, the last great Lannister piece has fallen and for it, House Stark and the North rejoice," he said.
Lord Manderly embraced him by the shoulders,
"Come on, lad, there's comfort and companionship waiting for you inside," he announced, dragging him along as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.
***
Jon shot upward, hearing his chambers' door open. Naked in a tub, Longclaw was out of reach.
"You spend a few months in the South and you're already in the habit? What did the Dragon Queen do with you, your Grace?"
Jon's upper lip lifted in a grimace of discontent.
"Davos, you bloody old meddler!" Jon cursed, looking to the side where a large, white-furred creature pushed its way into the chamber. "Ghost!" he shouted, excitedly, as the direwolf lunged at him like a needy pup. "I missed you too!" Jon laughed content.
Later, dry and properly dressed, Jon and Davos sat down to take supper in private, much to Lord Manderly's displeasure. After all, Davos was his Hand and they had things to catch up on.
"If I had to spend another day listening to Lord Manderly and his improbable tales about the old war, I would have thrown myself off White Point. That crone can be a persistent man. He spent weeks grooming his granddaughters for you."
Jon frowned in displeasure.
"You see, every time he approached me, he would start gripe about how House Stark needs heirs, regardless of baseborn or legitimate," he said. "I did tell him you were no man for that."
"How is Winterfell faring?" Jon changed the subject.
"Your sister Sansa is a diligent regent," Davos replied.
"With Littlefinger by her side..." Jon remarked grudgingly.
"Don't underestimate her, Jon. I think Sansa is far more aware of the sort of person he is than any of us."
"Well, Daenerys is coming for his head," he announced, giving Davos a serious look.
"Daenerys, heh?" he observed, "Now you call her by her name."
"What other name should I use?" Jon pretended disinterest.
"As long as it's not your grace...or my queen," the old sailor and smuggler taunted him, half-seriously.
"We have not yet negotiated on those terms."
"And on what terms and what exactly have you negotiated?"
Jon made a pause, hesitantly.
"She will fly here."
"Just her?"
"...and her dragons."
Davos stared at him with eyes wide open while still mulling it over.
"Where's little Arya?" he suddenly remembered.
"She stayed behind. Daenerys will bring her."
Davos moved his bowl of soup aside and leaned over, with his elbows on the table.
"Jon, the Lords are not content," he warned.
"Have I been dethroned already? You know they'd rather bark than bite."
"I would have liked to join you and keep a close eye on matters," the sailor complained.
"Do you also believe me incompetent, Davos? I did everything in my power with diplomacy, and when that wasn't enough, I resorted to pleading."
"A king does not beg," Davos growled.
"Figurative speech. I brought provisions and a proposal."
His blue eyes glowed.
"A proposal? What kind of proposal?"
Jon took a deep breath and began to recount every event of his days at King's Landing, from his abrupt arrival to his lukewarm retirement. On every occasion he mentioned Daenerys, Davos would square his gaze on him, as if searching for the slightest slip of a feeling. Jon wanted to believe that there was nothing to hide.
"It was not the sort of proposal I had in mind," Davos gruffed.
"It wasn't lack of trying."
"I see." Davos watched him with acute attention. "Is she the beauty everyone talks about?"
Jon looked at his food and then back at him.
"Yes," he said bluntly.
***
"What happened to Cersei was terrible, I imagine. You haven't yet seen what an angry, hungry mob can do. The war of the rebellion was terrible, Jon."
Davos was rambling on his way to the cellars, where he urged Jon to join him to show him something.
"There was similar mayhem here a few days ago..."
Jon snapped his head up.
"What happened?"
Davos released a heavy breath.
His Hand went to open the door of the cellar. Inside there were Tyrion and Jaime Lannister.
***
Tyrion's nose was stopped up by a stubborn cold. After receiving medicine to relieve his cold, he sat on a stool near the fireplace. The weather prevented him from thinking properly, feeling that at any moment his ears and toes would fall off.
"You're going to need better boots," Jon Snow, bloody Jon Snow, told him. "Last time you fared better," he pointed out.
"It wasn't winter the last time," Tyrion grunted back.
"Well, it'll get worse."
Tyrion smiled wryly.
"It'll be far worse when I'm on the top of the wall and those grumkins and snarks come over."
Jon cocked his head. "You could piss all over them."
Tyrion watched him incredulous.
"Ha ha. The Jon Snow with a sense of humor. What a time for rarities; A dragon queen, a bastard king, an ice king..."
"If it makes you feel any better," Jon cut him off, "When I see your undead body I will be especially merciful."
Tyrion sighed.
Jaime and those others in their same condition (men exiled to the wall), sat on a semicircle by the fire, exchanging life tales. Tyrion looked at them and wondered how they could accept it so easily?
"When we were at King's Landing...I became a foul-mouthed insolent," he admitted without looking into Jon's eye. He supposed that he looked back at him with confusion.
"Weren't you always?" Instead Jon answered.
Tyrion let out a low sound from his throat.
"I tried to convince Daenerys to turn you down."
A moment of silence. He sensed Jon shifting.
"Are you in love with her?" he asked him.
"Who isn't?" Tyrion asked back. He turned his face over and raised an eyebrow at him. "Or are you going to tell me that those longly looks were you merely regarding her?"
"I was regarding her," Jon stated, matter-of-factly.
"Of course you were." Tyrion clicked his tongue. "It isn't her fault. She cannot help it. But she likes it. Immensely."
"I reckon it doesn't have much of an effect on her."
"Nevermind. Did that leech from Highgarden beat you out of the contest for her hand?"
Jon scratched his eyebrow.
"I don't think there was a contest, to begin with. The solution was simple and yet she never accepted me."
"It's not as simple as you think. Not for her."
Jon frowned at him.
"I shouldn't say this..." Tyrion pondered but knowing Jon and his nature he knew it would pass as a mere comment. "I think you're too good to even think about using it against her. She can't have children."
Another moment of sheer silence. The bastard looked as though he was considering his answer.
"According to who?"
"According to a witch. The same one who killed her husband, the Khal."
"And she thinks her a reliable source of information?"
He was quite serious about it.
Tyrion shrugged.
"Sometimes you are what you think you are." She thought about Daario Naharis. The smug whoreson. "She had a lover in Meereen. Nothing came of it."
He watched Jon's clasped hands tightening.
"If she had plans to return to Westeros I don't think she would have left that to chance," he argued.
"She rejected you and yet you still defend her," Tyrion observed.
"It was me who withdrew the proposal."
Tyrion looked at him startled.
"Why?"
Jon stared absent-minded at the fire.
"Call me a fool but I do believe she has good intentions."
"And you want them to see her the way you see her," Tyrion understood. He finally got it. "She harbors good intentions. Not always the best means to obtain them. But with the right guidance..."
"Yours?"
Tyrion snorted. They shared a knowing look.
"I think she did a decent job on her own."
There you got it...Tyrion though. The fool is in love.
King's Landing
The day was cool and the winds were blowing as if the gods wanted to move mountains. Daenerys summoned Arya Stark to the outskirts of King's Landing, on the flatter side.
As per usual the young Stark girl did not utter a single word or look impressed when she found herself in front of Daenerys and her three dragons.
Wasn't she afraid of ending up like her grandfather and uncle? Dany wondered.
"Are you ready to go home, Arya Stark?" Daenerys asked her.
An eyebrow raised and Dany got a reaction at last.
She turned on her heel and started climbing Drogon's lowered shoulder, hoping that Arya was smart enough to follow suit.
Notes:
I had to remove Jorah's learning of Dany's time travel because honestly I want to keep this as little as possible before it explodes in the character's faces. Lol.
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