Silence. A tense, vindictive silence, one in which could be cut with a knife it was so thick. Even such, it was quite expected. With Jon gone to deal with the aftermath of the executions - brutal spectacles as they were, reassuring the Lords that if they were loyal they'd expect the bounty of the new world House Targaryen planned to create - the two women were left alone in the royal tent. Deja vu for the both of them to a time in Winterfell just before the arrival of the Long Night, only now it was Sansa Stark that sought approval from Daenerys Targaryen.
For the shoe to be on the other foot, Daenerys felt quite a bit of satisfaction. Watching the high and mighty Sansa Stark essentially crawling to her, begging forgiveness. But it was quite a bit more complicated than that. From what Jon had said, Sansa wasn't as much a bitch as she had thought.
Still… "I remember when I came seeking an accord, Lady Stark. For two of the most important women in Jon's life to form that familial bond that he so desired of us."
To her credit, Sansa looked ashamed. "I… I didn't know if I could trust you."
"Two dragons and a powerful army to the defense of your home, not to mention my literal display of undying affection for your brother, wasn't enough to at least convince you of my sincerity?" Daenerys almost screamed the last, but forced herself to calm down. Letting her true rage evaporate along with Varys.
"There are few that I find myself able to trust," the redhead said after yet another silence. "The few that I have on any plane of equals… apart from my blood they have all done their best to destroy me in their own little way." Anger returned to Daenerys for a fleeting moment at the bitch trying to excuse her conduct, but it calmed just as suddenly. It looked upon closer inspection to be an explanation, not an excuse. "Abused by Joffrey and Cersei. Manipulated by Littlefinger. My husband…" she trailed off. "A monster…"
Even with all her rage at Sansa Stark, all her ire, Daenerys felt the bonds of empathy reweaving what arrogance and mistrust had torn. "A feeling I have known with my first husband." Sansa looked up, as if hearing this for the first time. "Sold by my brother to the Dothraki Khal, I was forced to conquer him in the bedroom, give myself to him in every way for the protection of his muscles and his warriors. It may have worked, but I always remembered who he was."
A cold look crossed Sansa's face, but for once it wasn't directed at her. "Ramsay would never have allowed that. The games excited him more than the abuse, being able to toy with one's mind…" Her eyes fluttered shut, not wanting to remember. "Jon saved me. Took me in and took down my tormentors."
Daenerys couldn't help but smile. "He has a habit of that." She leaned back, taking the woman Jon called his sister in - not as the demon to be hated or the family to be wooed, but the person she was. "Two women, raped, brutalized, sold, defiled, beaten down like dogs. Survived through their own strength, wits, and fortitude, but also because of Jon Snow - Aegon Targaryen. I am proud of the strong woman that I've become, but I am also proud to be fortunate enough to have him in my life."
Sansa offered her a small smile. "Perhaps we aren't as different as I thought." She sighed. "Jon… he deserves everything."
"He does. Which is why I intend to share my throne with him."
"Would you give it up if he asks?"
"I would," Dany answered without hesitation. "Just as he would if I asked, but neither of us would ever."
"The lone wolf dies, the pack survives."
True of dragons as it is among wolves. House Targaryen had fought amongst itself for too long, such fights dooming it to near extinction, deprived of successors who could have stepped in and ensured its survival. Daenerys intended to join with Jon in changing it, but first she'd have to stop the infighting within her own family. "I can't trust you, Sansa. Not fully after breaking your oath." The Wardeness of the North could only nod at that. "But knowing your reasons, knowing what you did… all for my husband and King… you have earned a chance."
Bowing her head, Sansa appreciated the gravity of what she had been given. "Thank you, your Grace."
"Daenerys. You are family, so call me Daenerys." The Queen smiled, only for the scowl to return. "Do not give me reason to doubt you again."
"I would never." Seconds ticking by, Sansa finally asked the question she had truly wanted to for days. "Am I truly to become an aunt to twins?" Daenerys' eyes lit up, that family moment between herself and Jon's kin finally in her grasp.
Hands going for Needle and Catspaw - Gendry already hefting his warhammer - both he and Arya relaxed when Sandor entered their room in the dragonpit. "Here." He dropped a sack on the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust. "Dinner's here, enjoy."
Putting away her blades to somewhere close to reach in case a goldcloak or thief set upon them, Arya grabbed the sack and rifled through it. "That's it? A loaf of moldy bread and two turnips?"
"You're welcome," said the Hound, frowning at Arya's glare. "A little gratitude would be nice."
"Gratitude?" She huffed. "I've eaten more while begging on the streets of Braavos."
Sandor rolled his eyes. "Be lucky I managed to get that. Guy put up a good fight too."
Picking up one of the turnips, Gendry sniffed it. Nose scrunching up in distaste. "Things must be shit out there for this to be the average ration."
Arya chewed on a piece of bread, forcing herself to swallow. "Cersei's bootlickers probably get more."
"As if. I got this off one of the goldcloaks." Both youths stared at Sandor in shock. "You really don't want to know what shit the smallfolk are gettin." He smashed a fist against the stone walls. "Day after tomorrow can't come soon enough. I'm killing that cunt and my fuck of a brother."
"The Mountain is yours, but Cersei is mind" Arya hissed. The Hound only shrugged and walked away - leaving her and Gendry alone. They ate in silence, just letting the time pass by. Sometimes they sparred, sometimes they snuck to one of the walls to watch the city slowly fall apart around them. But mostly they just stayed in the dusty stone buildings. Awkward between each other. As such, Arya felt his eyes boring into her back. "Stop staring at me."
There was a pause. "I'm not staring, Arry."
"You're always staring at me." To tell the truth, Arya didn't really mind. She liked knowing he was undressing her with his eyes… and that was what she was concerned about. "Please stop, Gendry. We can't be together."
"Arya?" Biting her lip, the younger Stark daughter looked up at him. Meeting his cornflower blue eyes… ones she remembered staring into as he took her maidenhead… "Why can't we?" He was never this forward, but their plan to finally go for the Red Keep in a few days time probably made him bolder. "You know I love you."
She looked away. "I'm no lady."
A gentle but firm hand pulled her gaze back to his. "I don't want a lady. You know me as anything but a proper Lord." His stare pierced into her, getting past her walls. A far cry from the bullheaded boy she had travelled from King's Landing with so long ago - he was so much more than that… "I don't want someone who would wear a dress and sew all day. Hells, I'd rather be in the forge than hunt." He took her hands, almost pleading. "Arry, we can be unconventional together."
Weeks of resistance just crumbled. "You are so stupid." Charging forth, she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hungrily. The inner wolf inside of her finally howling with approval. Close to being sated after so long.
Last time it had been her in the lead. This time… Arya felt Gendry push her onto her back. Covering her little frame with his thick, muscular one. Arms pinning her to the ground. She looked at him with stormy grey eyes, dark with lust. Tough as nails and a seasoned killer, however the dampness behind her legs Arya proved something else about her. The urge to be dominated, to give up control, at least for now.
Pulling back slightly, Gendry looked in her eyes. "Arry? Was I too…"
She shook her head. His dominance, her lust… it broke the resolve. All her walls. "I love you, Gendry… you stupid bull," Arya couldn't help adding, especially as he smiled like an idiot. "Fuck me." He so readily complied, their tattered clothes essentially melting off, his length spearing her so deliciously. "Gods, you're perfect." She bit his shoulder, grounding herself in the intense pleasure.
Hearing a muffled profanities - multiple profanities of the vilest sort - both lovers glanced up to witness the back of Sandor Clegane as he stormed off. Mumbling something about "Fucking cunt kids," and other, similar phrases. It wasn't long before both Arya and Gendry were laughing merrily.
"I don't think he'll be able to look us in the face again," Gendry chuckled.
Still laughing, Arya cuffed him on the shoulder. "We should have found a room with a door." Grinning, happier than she had ever been even while stuck in the middle of a city coming apart at the seams, she kissed him tenderly. "May as well give him a show." Gendry grinned back at her as he resumed their kiss. Rocking back inside her.
Arya moaned. "Yes, my stag… yes…"
"He hasn't said anything, your Grace," the jailer stated, trying not to quiver in her presence. Cersei Lannister was in a foul mood. A very foul mood. Already a dozen servants had been burned alive with excess wildfire for this or that infraction, for imagined treasons or minor annoyances. No one was willing to go against her, namely for the reason that the executioners would be the last to die… at least that was what they told themselves.
Madness shimmering in her green eyes, Cersei waved him away. "Open the fucking door. He'll speak to me."
Bowing till he nearly toppled over, the jailer did as bidded. Unlocking the door to his most secure cell - the one that until recently had housed Daenerys Targaryen - and scurrying away. The Kingsguards would protect Queen Cersei. That and the fact that he really didn't want to be anywhere near her.
Gregor Clegane entering first, plodding steps loud and shaking the thin layer of dust and pebbles on the floor, Cersei kept her hands clasped behind her black dress as she regaled the matted hair and filthy presence of the man she had called her lover for decades. "Well, I had thought you weren't stupid enough to betray me again. Father called me the stupidest Lannister but it clearly is you."
Swallowing, Jaime pushed himself up. Giving Cersei a once over. He couldn't help but smirk, a foolish move in the situation he was in… seven hells, there's nothing left for me to lose. "They call you the Mad Queen, out there." Her scowl deepened, but he continued. "Starvation, irrational executions, constant assaults on crowds anywhere over ten people… but you aren't the real mad one here."
An eyebrow rose. "Oh?" Cersei willed herself not to lean against the wall or Ser Gregor, even though she ached. "You speak of the Dragon Whore, and yet you let her go! Or do you speak of the king you ran your sword through the back of?" she sneered, enjoying how she tortured him.
"No." He laughed again. "You don't know me too well anymore, Cersei." Years ago, she could read him like a book. Now, nevermore. "I was speaking of myself. I heard somewhere that madness was simply doing the same thing over again and imagining different results." Jaime gestured to her. "Well, I loved you so much, and yet you never changed. You never got better, just more and more resentful and angry till the madness took over."
"Where is our son?!" she screamed, rage clouding her once beautiful features. All Jaime saw remaining was a monster.
Grinning, Jaime pointed to the walls. "Gone. Assisted by Lord Qyburn to escape you. Your Hand betrayed you Cersei, and has been probably doing it for years." He took a step to her, only for her to step back. "Oh, think I'll kill you, big sister? I am your younger brother by forty-seven minutes. Just like that prophecy said." Cersei recoiled as if stabbed. "All three of our children dead, with gold as their shrouds, but perhaps for little Tywin something is different. How could he be yours if you never set your sights on him." One last act of revenge, he stuck the knife deep. "If I ever get out of here, I'll marry that Tarth girl and she'll be Tywin's mother."
At her scream, Ser Gregor slammed his fist into Jaime's gut, causing him to keel over. "I will burn the world to the ground before I let any whore raise my child!"
"Careful Cersei!" he called out, wheezing from the blow to the gut. "If I could betray you, Qyburn certainly could!" The last thing Cersei heard before Ser Boros slammed the cell door shut was Jaime's weak laughs.
Smirking, scoffing, a small voice rang in the center of her mind. Asking if he did speak true? If even now he did care about her, or was rather saying what he could to seed chaos and doubt in her mind. Though… could Qyburn be in fact betraying her? It was a thought that wouldn't go away.
"Ser Boros."
"Yes, your Grace?"
Her green eyes sparkled with a mad shimmer. "Find me Qyburn. Now."
Knights had squires. Great Lords had many squires. And Kings had an army of servants to care for them even while in camp. It was said that the bitter Aegon II employed twenty to prepare him for battle, anywhere from folding his undertunics just the right way to polishing his armor enough for him to see his reflection in them. Jon - Aegon VI - on the other hand, handled it himself. Lacing his tunic, fastening the straps of his armor, and sheathing the twin blades to his hip. Longclaw, the Lightbringer, and Blackfyre, the blade of Aegon the Conqueror. It calmed him while doing so, gave him a small sense of control while also a sense of privacy.
Yet for the first time since Ollie had betrayed him, Jon was not alone while preparing for battle. Armor plate clinking together as he walked across the tent, Jon wrapped his hands around Dany's waist. Pressing his chin on her shoulder and joining her to peer into the mirror. "You are so beautiful."
"Mmmmm…" Dany leaned back into her husband. Feeling a warmth spreading through her as his hands splayed across the swell of their children. "You aren't so bad yourself, my dragonwolf." Black curls let loose across his shoulders, wolf and dragon swords strapped to his hip, Targaryen sigil and Stark direwolf both emblazoned on his armor. He was a conqueror reborn, one that made Dany hunger for him - even though they had made love for the second time that morning only half an hour before.
Jon pressed a kiss to Dany's exposed neck, earning a purr. "Need some help?"
She nodded. "That would be nice."
Grabbing Dany's breastplate, specially forged for a woman in a 'delicate' condition, Jon gingerly slid it over her head and to her shoulders. "You don't have to do this, my love."
"I do." Daenerys burned with determination. "It must be me to face the monster that corrupted my child."
"He's my son as well, Dany." It seemed crazy to the person he had been, to be the father of dragons. You are a Targaryen, and a Stark. The insanity of it all lessened by the day. He was a Targaryen, a dragonrider. There was nothing more right in the world - apart from loving her. "And you carry our children inside you."
Daenerys sighed, feeling the life force of her beloved children. "I know, but they will be safe." Jon began fastening the belt that contained Dark Sister around her waist. "I just know."
The King knew not to argue. They had argued enough over it. "Alright, my love. I trust you." She smiled through the mirror. Gods, Daenerys Targaryen was a vision to him - silky silver hair, shimmering violet eyes, and a face sculpted by the gods themselves. "I am so lucky to have you, Daenerys."
Turning, Daenerys beamed at her beloved husband. "It is I who is the lucky one." Fisting the raven locks in her fingers, she drew him in for a passionate kiss - their mouths moulding together as Jon pushed her against a large chest. Taking their fill of each other.
Half an hour later, the Small council watched them emerge from their tent. Daenerys running fingers through her hair and Jon hitching his belt. "Took your sweet time, your Graces?" Davos teased, while Missandei, Howland Reed, and Tyrion shared knowing smirks.
"Shut it," Jon shot back as both monarchs walked by their advisors. Cloaks billowing and armor glinting in the sun - looking every inch the Targaryen conquerors they were. "As soon as we're off, take the army and march to King's Landing."
"It may be a trap," Tyrion mused, thinking of the stench of roasted flesh at the Goldroad. "Drogon could destroy us all at one command from Euron Greyjoy."
Giving him a withering stare, Daenerys halted as Rhaegal landed just yards in front of them. The most unforgivable and awe-inspiring backdrop. "There is no need to worry, Lord Tyrion. Drogon will be saved by the end of the day, and the heads of Cersei Lannister and Euron Greyjoy will be on pikes - if I don't burn them first." Not letting him respond, she began to climb Rhaegal's spines.
Jon nodded. "Proceed no matter what. Come hells or high water, this war ends tonight." He followed his wife, Rhaegal letting out a roar before ascending to the heavens.
"Good luck, your Graces," Tyrion said softly. "I have the feeling this will be the toughest battle of their lives."
Missandei was grim. "Two parents and one child facing off against the other child. If her Grace doesn't die herself, her heart will break to lose her dragon." She felt Grey Worm wrap a hand around her. "That being said, I hope she finds that monster soon."
"With their luck," Davos opined. "It's Euron that will find them."
Sea spray bathing him in the refreshing smell and taste of salt, Euron felt right at home. The wilds of the oceans, his for the taking. The dozens of great ships of the Iron Fleet, stretched out for all to see - the might of the Iron Islands prepared to seek their glory. He felt on top of the world, his cunning and strength having brought him here. Eyes wide and manic, he turned on the stern of his ship the Silence, looking out at his loyal crew.
"My Lords! My men! Today begins the new era of Westeros!" Cheers broke out, guttural shouts of hundreds of ironborn warriors. They were the best of the best. Crack Ironborn warriors, loyal Lords that had stuck with Euron from his ascension to the Salt throne, reavers from every city and holdfast the world over, his own silenced berserkers that had earned Euron's 'special treatment.' All gathered upon the Silence. The spearhead of his army, one that would secure him the Seven Kingdoms.
Grinning like a maniac - the perfect show for the sheep, who just ate it up - he pumped his fists in the air. "They call us pirates. They call us scum! They call us unfit to grace civilization unless one of those mainland cunts needs a navy - need someone to give their enemies the Iron Price! Well, it's time that they learn the Iron Price!"
"Fuck them all, your Grace!" screamed one of his top marine commanders. A man that had joined him in boarding dozens of vessels in the years of his exile - and plenty of vessels during the war on behalf of Cersei Lannister. "We'll rip through their capitol like my lance through a maiden's cunt." That drew added cheers. Men being men and sailors being sailors. .
Smirking, Euron looked up at the sky. A light cloud cover draped over Blackwater Bay, the slightest drizzle splattering them with water. It felt invigorating. "No, we shant rape or burn or reave." The smirk widened as his men went silent. Shocked by what he said. Slamming his fist on the railing, Euron laughed. "We will make them beg me to rule them. We will make them welcome us as liberators. They will offer their gold, their food, their drink, their pussy to us willingly with the utmost gratitude on their stupid fucking faces! The reign of King Euron the Great begins today, in the everlasting hellfires the Septon cunts preach day in and day out!"
A roar echoed over the entire fleet. Ships rocking as a giant black beast shot past their masts. Euron stepped back, his men staring in awe when Drogon landed upon the stern of the Silence. Eyes blood red and smoke emanating from his nostrils and clenched teeth.
Chuckling darkly, Euron walked up to the beast, rubbing his hand over his jaw. Instead of burning him to a crisp, the dragon calmed for his new master. "It begins now, brothers!"
Shock beginning to wear off, the men cheered again. Cheering for their great King, the one who mounted a dragon.
Climbing up Drogon's spines, Euron continued to play his part. "The Dragon Whore and her bastard brings death by fire. The Golden Bitch brings death by fire. But the Ironborn bring the waves that extinguish the fire. As Harwyn Hardhand so brought the Iron Price to the Rivers, so too will Euron the Great and his men bring the Iron Price to all the Seven Kingdoms. What is dead may never die!"
"What is dead may never die!"
Tipping his head back, Drogon roared loud enough to be heard in King's Landing itself.