Chapter 36: Dragon Dreams

301 AC

The march back to Winterfell had been long, but the relief that Torrhen had felt as he passed through Moat Cailin was nothing compared to the joy he felt at seeing Winterfell again. The old walls dominated the skyline for miles, and riding through the Wintertown towards them seemed to take longer than the entire march did as Torrhen was just eager to get there.

He rode alongside his Father, with Balerion trotting along the other side of his horse, Obsidian, as they entered Winterfell proper, the courtyard was rammed with the inhabitants of the castle, and at the front of them all stood House Stark. Robb looked older, a full beard on his face now and he looked stern, like the Lord of Winterfell should, with his blonde haired wife Wylla beside him. Rickon was a full head taller than he used to be as well while Sara had almost doubled in size as the littlest Stark stood with her hand in Cat's, and even Arya had grown. Torrhen's eyes were quickly trained on his two girls however, with Mira and Sansa stood next to each other.

"House the wagons in the First Keep." Ned ordered before dismounting. "Keep a close guard on them, I don't want any thievery. Anybody that tries is to be arrested."

"Yes Lord Stark!" Came the response.

As Ned and Torrhen came to a stop in front of his family, those behind them that were escorting a number of wagons forged a path through the people that had stopped to watch on as they drove towards the abandoned part of Winterfell. Torrhen dismounted at the same time as Ned did, and they both walked to their respective wives, hugging them. Torrhen quickly hugged Sansa too as he pulled away from Mira, before he reunited with the rest of his family, hugging Arya and Rickon first, before Sara, Robb and his Mother. Ned did the same, and once the reunions were completed they stood together, allowing the rest of the courtyard to start disbanding. Balerion noticed his Direwolf siblings at that moment and bounded after them, clattering into Shaggydog playfully.

"Why so many wagons?" Robb asked, noticing as the tenth wagon rolled passed.

Torrhen grinned. "You didn't think we'd leave the West empty handed, did you?"

Cat was stunned. "You mean all of this…"

"The Lannisters committed treason. The debt incurred by the crown was forgiven in its entirety, while the reparations were generous indeed." Ned explained. He looked to Vayon Poole, the steward who was loitering. "I did promise you that acquiring the funds for my projects would be taken care of."

Vayon snorted. "And some, I'd say. I'll need to go and count it."

Ned nodded. "Make it your priority. I need to know how many wagons to send to Robett Glover, how many to send to Karhold and how many to keep for ourselves and Moat Cailin." Vayon bowed and departed. "So, shall we retire to the Great Hall? I know I'm starving." Ned asked.

"In a moment." Catelyn said, a grin on her face. "There are some boys I think you both should meet before we head inside."

Torrhen remembered that he had a little nephew and began to smile, before the exact wording that his Mother had used sank in. "Boys?" He asked. Mira grinned as she turned around to pick up a bundle from Ethan. Torrhen's breath hitched as realisation set in. "We haven't…"

"Allow me to introduce Asher, of the House Stark. Heir to the Causeway." Mira smiled.

Torrhen just choked out a laugh. "My Lady, this is…" He didn't have the words. "You kept this from me."

Mira shrugged. "I didn't know how to word it in a letter, and I didn't want to tempt fate in case of any problems."

Torrhen stepped towards his wife and held his arms out, and Mira placed the baby in his arms. Beside him, Ned had been introduced to Beron, but Torrhen only had a view for little Asher. He had slightly darker hair than Torrhen's, but that wasn't overly noticeable. The eyes however were noticeably darker, halfway between Jon's dark grey eyes and Torrhen's lighter. Asher was wide eyed and staring up at Torrhen, who just grinned down at his son.

"I am going to do better by you." He whispered, inaudible for everybody else. "I swear it, on the Old Gods and the New, I will make sure you get to grow up in a world that's safe."

"He looks like you." Ned's voice came from over Torrhen's shoulder. He was holding Beron with a big smile on his face but he stared at Asher.

"The poor child." Sansa stated bluntly, and all of them laughed. Torrhen grinned as he gently rocked the baby before they all moved in to eat as a family before the craziness of the feast later on began.

And crazy it was. Once more all the Lords and Ladies of the North had gathered to celebrate the victory in the West. Torrhen was up dancing with Mira, slightly drunk on the ale he had been drinking all day and chanting out the lyrics to the bawdy 'Bear and the Maiden Fair' song being belted out by Cregan Glenmore, the bard for the evening.

"THE BEAR, THE BEAR, THE BEAR AND THE MAIDEN FAIR!" Torrhen roared as he twirled Mira around, before the song ended and he clapped along with the rest of them. Mira was panting with a wide grin as she excused herself, with Torrhen following to the Forrester table, where Mira's father, Lord Gregor, was sat holding his grandson.

He sat down and watched the room as Cregan Glenmore started up 'The Lusty Lad', a favourite of the Greatjon's. He saw his parents stood by the Lord's chair, Ned wrapping his wife up in his arms from behind as they swayed along to the music. Robb was arm wrestling with the Smalljon towards one side too, and Torrhen noticed Sansa and Domeric dancing together, causing Torrhen to smile to see his twin so happy.

He grabbed another ale and settled further into his seat, laughing when the Smalljon smashed Robb's hand into the table and belted out a roar in victory. Apparently it was a drinking game too, as Robb was quickly handed an ale and forced to down it by the small group of nobles that had gathered around him.

Once Cregan had finished the next song, Ned smacked his tankard on the table and the entire room fell silent. Torrhen was once again impressed at the level of respect he commanded. "My Lords!" The Lord of Winterfell exclaimed at that. "My Ladies! We stand here after our triumph against the traitorous Lannisters, victorious and richer for the trouble." Torrhen grinned as he banged his tankard on the table in celebration along with the rest of the room. "But before we look to the future, I want us to remember the thousands of men that perished in the battles. I want us to remember those that should be here among us tonight, but were killed in the West."

Torrhen nodded, holding his tankard high as he thought about his wife's brother, Rodrik among the many others. Benfred and Brandon Tallhart, the two cousins that often travelled to Winterfell in their youth, Halys Hornwood, the Lord of Hornwood. Torrhen even spared a thought for Harald Karstark and Roger Ryswell, both were traitors in Tor's last life, but in this one Karstark was one of the men that died at the Kingslayer's blade in defence of King Robert, and Roger Ryswell died in the assault of Casterly Rock.

There were others, Torrhen was sure, but Ned broke the moment of contemplation by stating. "Now though, we look towards the future. To the Ironborn, and the preparations for what's coming from the North." The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew tense and nervous. "With the plunder that we have gained and the battle-hardened men we have brought back with us, I expect everybody to prepare for the harshest winter we have ever faced. Send any available and willing men to bolster the Night's Watch. Import food and improve your defences ready for the coming storms. Do whatever needs to be done to your castles. Work will begin on the castle in the Gift immediately with the help of Lord Rickard." He nodded towards the Karstark Lord. "As well as on improving the Kingsroad to improve travel speeds. Moat Cailin will also be finished with the gold earned from the campaign, and Lord Torrhen will see to it that the area is ready for a mass evacuation southwards if that becomes needed."

Torrhen stood up and nodded at Ned at that, accepting the tankards banging on the tables as the Smalljon shouted. "The butcher of the Rock!"

Groaning, he sat down. Mira leaned into him and asked. "What was that?"

"I'll tell you later." He promised, as Ned continued.

"Firstly however, we must pay the Ironborn back." Ned said darkly, and the room was louder in agreement than it had been all night. "My son, Lord Robb, will lead the host of men to the Isles to fight under my name with Lord Stannis Baratheon, and I would like those that fought the Ironborn back to join him. Lord Bolton, Lord Glover, Lady Dustin." He looked at each as he said their names. "Will you fight?"

"Aye." Each said proudly, although Barbrey Dustin was more delayed than the others.

"What of the rest of us?" The Greatjon asked. "We want to fuck those Ironborn cunts too!"

"Aye!" A louder agreement came.

Robb stood up. "Winter is Coming, men and women of the North." He was slightly drunk, but his words carried meaning. "If we all went sailing we would end up less prepared to fight the true threat in the North. My Father appreciates the willingness of you all to fight, but we only have limited ships, and the might of the Royal Fleet alongside us will make this nought but a rout!"

Torrhen banged his tankard again in agreement, spilling some ale this time. Ned nodded gratefully at his son. "But enough about that. We are here to celebrate tonight, are we not? Cregan, How about Off to Gulltown?"

Cregan grinned and picked his lute back up, strumming the strings as he began one of the songs that Ned enjoyed from his childhood in the Vale. "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid…"

Mira grabbed his hand again, grinning childishly. "Come on!" She cried. Torrhen groaned jovially as he let himself be dragged back onto the dance floor, noticing Gregor Forrester's chuckles as he went to continue the celebrations long into the morning.

Torrhen's head was sore the next morning. When he woke up the sun was already high in the sky and he noticed Mira sat at a changing table brushing her hair, already dressed. "Good morning, husband." She smirked at him through the new mirror that had been placed there in his absence."

He just groaned at the sunlight, covering his face with the pillows. "Remind me never to get that drunk again." He croaked, his throat dry.

Mira chuckled. "There's a light ale on the desk next to you."

Torrhen didn't like the sound of more alcohol, but he drank a sip anyway to wet his throat. "You look lovely this morning." He said sitting up. She was dressed in a light grey dress and it was simple without much decoration, but Torrhen loved it.

"Father has asked for me and Ethan to spend the day with him, so I'm going to take Asher and we're going for a small picnic." She explained. "Don't worry, you don't have to come." Torrhen appreciated that, he didn't feel up to riding anywhere in his state. "Your sister came looking for you an hour ago."

"Which one?" Torrhen asked.

"Sansa." Mira replied. "I told her that you would join her this afternoon."

Torrhen smirked. "Very well, as my wife commands." He stretched the once and gingerly got out of bed to cover his nakedness with some loose-fitting brown trousers before he walked over to the changing table and wrapped his arms around Mira, kissing her on the cheek.

He let her get ready and leave then, before he himself got dressed in his trademark black, although for the first time in a long time it was woollen and smart, not leather armour, that he pulled on. He added a thick wolfskin cloak and went to the kitchens and filled himself up on some breakfast and began to feel slightly better before he made his way to the Godswood and said a prayer, meeting up with Balerion outside.

That was where Sansa met him with Lady, and both the human pair and the Direwolf pair came together fondly. They began to take a walk around the castle.

"I'm sorry I missed your wedding." Torrhen said honestly.

Sansa smiled. "It was rushed yes, but don't be sorry. I'm at peace with it. Although it does feel odd, like we're married but not at the same time."

Torrhen knew what she meant. "Don't be too worried about not sleeping together." Torrhen told her. "You're still young yet."

"I'm older than you." Sansa reminded her twin with a huff.

Torrhen grinned. "Aye, and I wouldn't change Asher for the world, but the facts are that we are still very young and still growing. Mira and I spoke before the feast yesterday and decided that we are waiting for a while before we go for another child just to ensure that nothing goes wrong."

Sansa nodded, before snorting out a laugh. "Who would have thought we'd be talking about being married." She chuckled.

Torrhen grinned too. "It does seem surreal. But that is our life I suppose. Give it time and soon you will leave for the Dreadfort and I shall hold Moat Cailin."

"How is the build going?" Sansa asked quickly.

Torrhen grinned. "Both the Weeping Tower and the Merman's Tower either side of the Kingsroad to the South were completed before the war so whenever Domeric or House Manderly visit their space is fully furnished and ready, and since we've been away the Giant's Tower that rises above the Kingsroad to the North of the castle has been finished for House Umber's men." He explained. "There are still 6 more towers to go, but the pace can resume now."

"Wow." Sansa raised her eyebrows. "That's happened quickly."

Torrhen nodded. "The entire North know how important this is, so motivation is high."

They reached the balcony that Ned always used to like standing on, and Torrhen noticed that Arya and Cregan Glenmore were yet again practicing their archery. They stood and watched in silence for a moment, when Arya struck just outside the centre mark. She was delighted and Nymeria jumped up in celebration, and Torrhen began clapping. Arya was surprised and looked upwards, surprise on her face until she realised who was there. "Seven hells you two, I thought you were Mother and Father."

Torrhen looked at Sansa and the pair burst into laughter, appreciating that they did look similar to their parents. "You're shooting well. You must have had a good teacher."

Cregan grinned. "You weren't here, so someone had to step up occasionally."

Torrhen nodded in appreciation. "Well House Glenmore are the best North of the Neck, so you were in good hands, sister."

Cregan snorted. "We're the best in Westeros you mean." He added jovially.

"What's that!" Arya pointed upwards in the sky. Torrhen obviously couldn't see anything due to the roof, so he and Sansa made their way to an open roofed area and looked in the direction of Arya's point.

"By the Seven…" Sansa gasped. Torrhen meanwhile, had a huge grin on his face.

"Jon you wonderful man." He whispered as he watched the Red Comet burn brightly in the sky.

"Jon?" Sansa asked.

Torrhen grinned. "The Red Comet means a shift in the world. I might be mistaken, but I'd wager a guess that Jon has helped Daenerys Targaryen in Essos."

"Helped the Targaryen?" Sansa looked nervous. "How?"

Torrhen turned to Sansa. "Dragons, Sansa. It means we have Dragons in the world once more."

Thankfully, Dany's memory of her past life and the knowledge of the region made the road from Lhazar to Qarth easier. The small Khalasar raided the last village before the Red Waste for supplies before they embarked on the arduous journey through the desolate wastelands.

It still took many weeks until they arrived, but they were finally through the Garden of Bones and stood outside the almost golden walls of Qarth. Jon stared up at them, not relishing the thought of having to assault them. Thankfully, a delegation had come out to greet them, matched of course with a number of spearmen.

"They are called the Thirteen." Dany said, distastefully. "Flower your words, they love to be flattered. But trust nobody, especially not the Summer Islander or the Warlock."

Jon grimaced, he wasn't very good at masking his intentions. He still nodded however, preferring to keep his mouth shut instead. He stared at the approaching men, all dressed in fineries that Jon hadn't seen the like of since Pentos. He felt out of place in his Northern armour, but still he stood his ground at Daenerys' side and tried to look as unlikable as he could. Thankfully Ghost was at his other side, staring at what was going on.

A balding man in a peach coloured robe approached them separately from the rest and stopped before Daenerys. "This is a great surprise, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen." The man said. "Qarth, the greatest city that ever was or will be, was not expecting your visit."

Jon fought the urge to scoff. Every city thought that they were the greatest after all. "You know me?" Daenerys asked.

"Only by reputation, Khaleesi." The man said, and Jon decided he didn't like the pompous man. "They call you the Mother of Dragons."

Dany nodded and turned behind her, gesturing towards Drogon who began to climb up her body and sit on her shoulder. "Word travels fast it seems. We have been stranded in the Red Waste for some time."

"And now here you are. The question is, however. Why?" The man said.

Dany smirked knowingly. "I could have gone back to Vaes Dothrak and lived out my life in the Dosh Khaleen, it is true. But as you said yourself, I am the Mother of Dragons. No, I would go to my homeland, and to do that I need a port. Yours was the nearest."

The man looked surprised. "You just wanted to get on a ship? I must say, I'm very surprised."

"It is out of character for my family I suppose." Dany said, stroking Drogon's chin. "But my home is far away and I long for it dearly. If you would allow us access simply to resupply ourselves and perhaps buy a ship, when I come into my Throne I shall remember the generosity of the Thirteen."

The man grinned. "It seems you know us too, Khaleesi."

"Your reputation proceeds you." Dany flattered.

"Then you would know that Qarth, the greatest city that ever was or will be, will not remain the greatest city that ever was or will be by inviting Dothraki savages into its walls."

Dany just smiled. "My Dothraki are simply tired and long for respite from the desert. They will not plunder your city unless provoked, I promise you."

The man smiled, but Jon could see it was patronising in nature. "But I do not know you, Khaleesi. I cannot trust the words of a girl I have never met."

"Then remember that I shall remember you denied me too." Dany said kindly, though her words were threatening. She stroked Drogon again. "He is small now it is true, but when he is grown he will burn cities to the ground."

"But you have no supplies." The man stated as if he had won the battle of words.

Dany however, wasn't so defeated after all. "Drogon needs no supplies to burn you here. Perhaps once you have been burnt alive by dragonfire your friends will be more willing to aid me."

The man's façade dropped, and he looked at Dany in outrage. "Threats will…"

"Are you threatened?" The Summer Islander that Dany mentioned earlier said mockingly. "She is but a young girl."

The leader turned around and glared at the Summer Islander. "A girl that has threatened to burn our city to the ground."

"Only if we do not allow her access to a ship."

"The discussion is over, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. The Thirteen have spoken." The man said frustrated.

"I am one of the Thirteen, and I am still speaking." Xaro countered.

"The girl threatens to burn our city to the ground and you would invite her in for a cup of wine? She is the Mother of Dragons!"

Jon didn't understand why Dany had been so cautious of the Summer Islander when he was sticking his neck out for her. "Do you expect her to watch her people starve without breathing fire?" Xaro asked. "I believe we can allow a few Dothraki through our gates without dooming our city. After all, here I am, a savage from the Summer Isles, and Qarth still stands."

"Our decision is final." The first man said.

"Very well. I invoke soumai." The men behind Xaro all looked at each other uncomfortably as he drew a long dagger from his hip. "I will vouch for her, her people, and her dragons, in accordance with the law." He drew his blade against his palm and displayed the wound to all the other members of the Thirteen."

The leader of the group seemed unimpressed. "Be it on your head." He said coolly, returning to the rest of the group.

Xaro gestured to Dany welcomingly. "Welcome to Qarth, My Lady. Do not be afraid to stick around for a while longer than you plan."

"Thank you." Dany said with a smile Jon could see was fake. "If it is not too much trouble, there is one thing I would like to ask of your warlock friend…"

The gates of Castle Black opened slowly. Jaime was one of the only men of the West on horseback, with the majority of the Westermen being simple men at arms, choosing life over execution. They had been escorted as part of the Northern return, but after Winterfell it had been the third son of Rickard Karstark that had led them. Just enough men to mean an attempt to escape was futile.

Not that Jaime wanted to escape. Thankfully he had been spared of seeing his Father and sister loose their lives, but the thought of it haunted him deeply. He couldn't even remember the last time he smiled.

They filtered into the courtyard of Castle Black, and Jaime was surprised at how empty the place was. Men were scattered about infrequently, but there couldn't have been more than 30 out in the open of the castle.

Torrhen Karstark, his current captor, moved towards the approaching man dressed in black, a man that Jaime recognised from so long ago. "Lord Torrhen." Ser Alliser Thorne said gruffly, a scowl on his face.

"Ser Alliser." Torrhen said, equally as displeased. "I trust you can settle these in?"

Ser Alliser nodded the once, and he grinned over at the now forcibly dismounted Jaime. "Well what do we have here." He said, a dark grin on his face. "Kingslayer."

Jaime set his jaw so he didn't give away any emotion at hearing the cursed name. "Ser Alliser, it's been a long time."

"Must be almost 20 years now." Ser Alliser noted. "20 years since your cunt of a Father betrayed his King and sent me here." He was growling.

"Now now, we're all allies now." Jaime said with a forced smirk. "We've come to take the Black, and I heard all past actions are forgiven."

Ser Alliser growled again. "By the realm mayhaps. Not by me." He said shortly, stepping forwards so he was inches away from Jaime's face. "You put a toe out of line and I'll see you sharing an ice cell with the Greyjoy cunt that joined us weeks back."

That interested Jaime as he didn't know there was a Greyjoy here. He let Torrhen Karstark cut his bindings, the Northman with just as much hatred in his eyes. "Nor by me." Karstark said quietly yet menacingly in Jaime's ear. "You killed my brother and left his baby daughter fatherless. If it were up to me, I'd give you to the Bolton's."

Karstark shoved Jaime backwards before he walked away to cut another mans bindings, and Ser Alliser had another ugly smirk on his face. "Follow Pyp. He'll take you to Maester Aemon."

Jaime over exaggeratedly nodded his acceptance at the request and followed the boy up the steps, hearing Ser Alliser barking out orders to the rest of his fellow countrymen. Pyp opened up a door. "Ser Jaime Lannister to see you, Maester."

"Send him in." Said the oldest voice that Jaime had ever heard. He walked in and Pyp closed the door behind him, leaving Jaime in the room alone with the man. Jaime took a look around. There was a desk filled with books, bits of parchment and quills. A small bed was in the corner of the room, and a fire was roaring in the fireplace. An old man sat staring at one of the walls, dressed all in black and with a Maester's chain around him.

"Maester." Jaime greeted. The Maester's eyes narrowed, but he didn't look towards Jaime.

"Long have I wanted to hear your voice." The Maester said gently, although there was a hint of bitterness in his tone, Jaime noted. "You are famous even at the edge of the world."

Jaime gulped, unsettled. "Probably for the wrong reasons." He commented, trying to sound his usual, proud self.

Aemon nodded. "Indeed. Oathbreaker, they call you. Kingslayer." He snarled the last bit.

"I'm putting all that behind me." Jaime said carefully. "I'm here to serve, nothing more."

"Yes, to serve. To do your duty as a man of the Night's Watch." Aemon commented. "It is our duty to renounce our names, our titles, our past lives. But tell me, Ser Jaime. What would you do if you heard the news that Casterly Rock had fallen. That a man trusted by your family had betrayed your brother's family and murdered them. That even the children had been slaughtered." He was truly spitting the last words out bitterly. "The Gods were cruel when they brought that news to me. I was old, unable to make a difference even if I wanted to."

Jaime's eyes were wide in horror. "Who are you?"

Aemon's eyes were vacant, yet he was scowling. "My Father was Maekar, First of his Name. After him ruled my little brother, Aegon, Fifth of his name. My nephew Jaehaerys followed him and then his son Aerys."

Jaime took a shaky step back, amazed and terrified at the aura that this old man was giving off. "I…"

"I don't want excuses." Aemon bit venomously, before he settled again and relaxed. "I am sure as I have you have thought about it long and hard."

"Not saving the children has been the biggest regret of my life." Jaime insisted honestly. "If I had known they were in danger…"

"You would have saved them?" Aemon raised an eyebrow. "You would have stood against your Father's men and protected them?"

"Yes." Jaime told him, knowing that he would have. "I liked Elia, I adored the babes. What happened to them wasn't right."

"Nor is killing the King you swore to protect." Aemon told him.

Jaime lowered his head. "I had my reasons." He remembered Torrhen Stark, praising him for those actions. Sighing, he decided to own it. "I saved the city that day. Aerys was ready to slaughter hundreds of thousands with Wildfire. I… I couldn't let that happen."

Aemon sank in his chair, processing the information. "Wildfire has always been a folly of King Maekar's descendants." He noted, more to himself. "My brothers mainly." Sighing, Aemon stated. "I shall never like you. But we are men of the Night's Watch now, or you soon will be. That means we must work together whether we like it or not."

"I do not hate you, Maester. Nor your family, not as Robert Baratheon does." Jaime insisted. "I was in awe of Rhaegar. If he had lived…"

"If he had lived, many things would be different." Aemon noted. "But the thing that would remain is that the Night's Watch is in grave danger. You are a skilled knight, I am told. A skilled commander too. Use it. Protect us from the dangers beyond the Wall and do your duty." He was pointing towards Jaime then. "Think of your regret with little Rhaenys and Aegon and let that drive you to protect all the young in the world from the coming Winter."

"I will." Jaime said honestly. "I have nothing left to live for."

Aemon cocked his head slightly. "We shall see, Ser Jaime. We shall see."

The House of the Undying was set aside from Qarth by being just a single tall tower in the middle of greenery. Dany walked down the single track path between the tall trees fearlessly, as she followed Pyat Pree inside the curtain walls, where the warlock disappeared. Daenerys was unfazed however, expecting tricks. She walked around the central tower until she found herself transported inside the dark tower once again. Taking the single burning torch, Daenerys began her journey up the steps and through the House of the Undying.

She came to the circular room with four doors, the stone table in its centre. She stared at each door individually, before choosing the one on the right as she had so long ago. Whereas before it had been the Throne Room of the Red Keep, broken and snowed in as it would have been had Dany not stopped her assault on King's Landing, this time it was different. She was walking down a frozen, muddy road towards a large hill, a colossal castle in the way of the road. Dead men littered the ground in all states of decomposition in the process of being covered by the light snowfall. She saw Dornishmen, she saw Rivermen, she saw Westermen and she saw Northmen, she even saw Wildlings, all of them dead in the dirt.

She walked towards the fortress, dodging the bodies as she stepped over them until she came to a large gate that swung open as she was about to knock. Inside the carnage was even worse, with more dead on the ground and impaled to the walls. The sight made her feel ill.

She walked further into the courtyard, seeing torn banners on the ground as well as dead men and women. The Dornish sun and spear had part of the banner torn off, while the Stark one, ever present in this place even though Dany didn't recognise it, was everywhere.

She moved closer towards the main keep, where her mind was forcing her legs to walk to, when she saw it. A giant spider, pale blue and the size of a pony. It was alive, or it was moving at the very least. Dany backed up, noticing that it was ripping into the flesh of a giant grey Direwolf.

Her back was soon against a door, and the Ice Spider noticed her. Gasping, she grasped frantically for the door handle, finding it as the spider neared her and opening the door, slamming it before the spider could get to her. She panted, turning around and pushing her back against the door as she took in her new surroundings.

This time it was the Throne Room of the Red Keep. She was in the corner at the door to the Small Council chamber, and she heard voices coming from the main Throne Room.

"Lord Tyrion will take care of King's Landing brother. You know how much Arya Stark meant to mother and you know how important it is for us to be there. You don't need to worry about the Kingdoms." An adult male's voice echoed through the room.

"Of course I do." A slightly deeper voice came through. "I'm to be King."

"Not for a long time, Gods willing." Dany stepped forwards at that and gasped at what she saw.

Sat on the Iron Throne his head in his hands was her eldest son, Aemon Targaryen, dressed in fineries of his house colours with his shoulder length hair as silver as she remembered. And stood beside the Throne in the shiny silver armour and white cloak of the Kingsguard, Dark Sister strapped to his hip was Rhaegar, her second and youngest son, his hair shaved neatly and a beard on his face. They both turned to face her, smiles on their faces.

"Mother." Aemon grinned as he stood beside his younger brother. "You made it."

"My boys." She said fondly, walking over and reaching up to touch both of their cheeks. "So handsome."

She looked around. The banners of House Targaryen were everywhere, but the Dragon skulls she had placed back in the Throne Room towards the end of her reign weren't there. "What year is this?" She asked.

Rhaegar snorted, but Aemon, ever the diplomat, elbowed his brother in the chest plate and looked down at Dany. "For us? The year 349 after Aegon's Landing. For you? I believe it's early in the year 301."

Dany was surprised. "You know what's happening?"

Rhaegar nodded. "You warned us about the powers of the Warlocks when they joined with Ghiscar." He then smirked. " I guess some of your teachings other than just swinging a sword about stuck."

Dany chuckled. "I miss you both dearly."

"We miss you too." Aemon said kindly, sitting down on the Throne. "But you have a different path to forge now, Mother. One where hopefully you can live happier than you did here."

"I was happy." She insisted. "I was happy with you, my grandsons…"

The magic once again took hold, and suddenly the pair were slightly older. Aemon held his own Grandson, baby Baelon, who wasn't even a year old when she died, in his arms as his eldest Grandchild and future King, Daeron, sat on the floor beneath the Iron Throne playing with a wooden dragon, seemingly unaware of what was going on.

"We know." Aemon smiled. "But after Father… well, you know you weren't the same."

"But that's ok." Rhaegar added quickly. "We understand. This is your opportunity to forge a full life with him, a life without so much death and destruction."

Aemon nodded at his brother's words, bouncing the baby on his knee. "But know that we are happy, that you were the first of a dynasty that will last a thousand years, reborn."

"And that we are always with you, here." Rhaegar said, his gauntleted hand touching her heart. "No matter where you are, we are all here."

Dany had tears in her eyes. She brought in her youngest son for a fierce hug first, before repeating the act with her eldest. "I love you." She told them, wiping her tears away. "Both of you, more fiercely than anything."

Aemon grinned, gesturing to the Small Council chamber. "There's someone else you need to see before you go."

Rhaegar nodded, standing tall beside the Throne as his role dictated, and the two boys watched as Dany walked slowly into the Small Council chamber, opening the door.

There, sat in the seat that he had always sat in during the council meetings, was Jon. Her Jon. He was greying at the side of his head and his beard, and his eyes had wrinkles that came with age, but it was her Jon as she remembered him. She choked out a sob, rushing to be picked up in his strong arms.

"My Queen." Jon whispered.

"My Jon." She whispered back. "It's been so long." Jon put her down and captured her lips fiercely, with Dany treasuring every second of this. "I thought I lost you on the banks of the Skahazadban." The image flashed in her mind of the assault of Meereen during the Ghiscari revolt as the Six Kingdom forces fought along the banks of the local river, where Jon and Rhaegal had been shot out of the sky into the crowd of sellswords. He had put up a fight as he always had done, but there were too many of them and Drogon couldn't reach him in time. The war had been won thanks to the efforts of Cregan Stark and the Kingdom of the North, but it had been little consolation at the time.

"You have me now." Jon told her. "And you have me again, it seems."

"He's not you though." Dany whispered.

Jon smirked. "Of course he is. He's me at 17."

"But you're my Jon." She replied sadly. "My King, my partner."

"He can be too." Jon smiled down at her. "We are the same, we're just on different paths. There is one thing that will be the same no matter what reality you find yourself in though, Dany."

"What's that?" She asked.

Jon looked down at her with those dark, dreamy eyes. "We love you with everything we have." Dany's lip quivered and she was crying again. Jon chuckled and lifted her chin up with one hand while wiping the tears away with the other. "You have a chance now that we never did, my love. You can be happy, instead of risk everything over that Iron Throne."

Dany stepped back a step. "It's our birthright." She told him.

Jon shrugged. "Perhaps, but you've had one lifetime ruling. This time you can live, if you choose to. The world will see enough damage and death with the Long Night, do you want to fight yet another war of conquest just for that chair?" Dany didn't, she had lived too long to put herself through that again and Jon could see that on her face. "Do what you must to get to Westeros, remember the Three Eyed Raven's words and I swear, we can be happy."

The door flew open then, and Dany had to shield her eyes from the light that was coming out of the doorway. She looked back at Jon, not wanting to go. "I am yours." She whispered.

"And I am yours." Jon repeated. "Now and always, from this day until the end of time itself." He leaned down to kiss her once more. "It's time."

Dany nodded. She didn't say a goodbye, she couldn't bring herself to. She reached up with her hand and cupped Jon's bearded cheek for a moment before she walked backwards through the doorway.

The heat hit her before the light dissipated, and she was on the docks of Qarth. She saw Jorah helping the Dothraki onto a ship, and she also saw Jon, the younger Jon of this world, approach her. "Are you alright?" He asked. "Did you get what you needed?"

Dany smiled sadly. "I did." She told him softly. She patted him on the chest before she walked towards the ship to where Irri was unloading the dragons. Opening the cages, she let the trio out into the sunlight.

"Shall we set sail, Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked her.

Dany didn't look away from the dragons, but she nodded. "Yes, take us west, Ser."