Chapter 42: Doctrine of Exceptionalism

Jon woke up slowly as the light of the sunrise filtered through to the tent. At first he had forgotten how he had fallen asleep, but light breathing from beside him caused that memory to resurface quickly. Jon turned and saw the flowing silver hair of Daenerys sprawled on the pillows, and her naked back was turned to him as she lay on her side. His eyes widened in fear as he placed his hands on his own topless chest and ran down his body. He grimaced as he didn't feel a waistband when he reached his hips, and audibly groaned when he felt his morning hardness free of confinement.

He tried to quietly get out of the bed to not wake Daenerys up. He managed to find his breeches and had one leg in them when he felt movement on the mattress, and a sleepy voice call out. "You don't have to go."

"My Queen." He said formally, putting his other leg in the trousers. "I did not mean to wake you."

"You should have." Dany smiled, sitting up without a care for her modesty. "You really don't need to go." She repeated.

Jon sighed. "I do. This was a mistake." He whispered, internally kicking himself.

Dany thankfully just laughed the once. "You and your honour." She rolled her eyes, kneeling on the mattress and walking on her knees towards him, snaking her arms around his chest and resting her hands on his pecs. She kissed him in the nook between his shoulder and neck. "You have nothing to fear Jon Snow. I will not carry your bastard after last night."

Jon pulled her hands away and stood up so he could lift his trousers over his bum and tighten them properly. "You can't know that. I swore to myself that I would never have a bastard. I made a vow…"

"A vow you made when you were the bastard of Winterfell." Dany knew all this. "You are Aegon of the House Targaryen, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. You are not a bastard, Jon."

"And I am also unwed." Jon said bitterly. "I may not be a bastard, but I was brought up one. I am one in my mind, no matter what truths come out."

Dany smiled sadly. "You wanted this just as much as I did." She insisted, kneeling on the edge of the bed so her face was inches away from his own. "I know your fears, truly I do. But answer me this, do you care about me?"

Jon looked incredulous. "Of course I do."

"And do you wish to be with me?" Dany asked him.

"More than anything." Jon said quietly. "But until then…"

"Until then you will be noble and protect my innocence." Dany rolled her eyes. Jon went to protest but Dany cut him off. "Don't try and deny it. I am not an innocent, Jon. I am a widow of a Khal, I was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms for almost 50 years. You don't have to protect my chastity or whatever noble mission you think you need to be on."

Jon shook his head. "It's not that. I just won't chance the possibility that I do sire a bastard."

Dany smiled, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. "There is no-one else I would rather be with, Aegon." She whispered. "I swear to you, as soon as we have a Septon or a Weirwood tree, we will be wed." She then got to her feet still on the bed, and she towered over him by a foot. "But that might be a long time in the future yet."

Jon smiled up at her. "Then I will wait for that time." He said gently.

Dany rolled her eyes, but let Jon walk over to his under shirt and pull it over his head. She shook her head and got off of the bed, reaching for a robe and pulling that on before she got an idea. "My handmaiden, Doreah." She said bluntly.

"What about her?" Jon asked.

"She was a bedslave from Lys, bought for me to teach me the ways of the bed chamber." Dany explained. She walked over to him with a smirk on her face. "She taught me many things about intimacy."

"Dany." Jon protested.

Dany shook her head, still grinning. She was an inch away from him when she got to her tiptoes and whispered in her ear. "You don't have to fuck me for us to be intimate if you don't want to, there are other ways, safer ways." She nipped his ear gently, causing him to unwillingly moan. "Come, we have time before we are to march." She whispered, grabbing him by the waistband and pushing him back onto the bed.

The road through the Frostfangs was barely a road at all. A pathway up the mountainside not too dissimilar to the way past the Golden Tooth, but icier. Thankfully it only took a few hours from making the journey up until Balerion's hackles were raised. Torrhen stopped the party immediately once he sensed Balerion growing agitated. "Raise the banners." Torrhen said quietly. "Show them we mean no danger."

Cregan held up the Stark banner himself, while the Bolton banner and two plain white banners were also raised. Torrhen and Domeric were the only ones without, as they carried on through the pass. Barely ten minutes later, the pathway was blocked. A large, muscled man stood in his way, and Torrhen would have recognised the red hair anywhere. The Stark dismounted his Garron and walked towards Tormund Giantsbane.

"You lost, crow?" Tormund snarled at Torrhen.

"I'm not a crow, I just like the colour." Torrhen said. "I'm a Stark."

That made Tormund glare even more. "You're very lost." He said gruffly. "Or very stupid."

"My wife would say the second." Torrhen nodded. "We seek an audience with Mance Rayder. I have a message for him from my Father, Lord Eddard Stark."

"A message?" Tormund raised an eyebrow. "Or a knife in the back?"

"A message." Torrhen confirmed. He held his right arm in the air as he slowly reached into his cloak. Tormund growled and unsheathed his sword, but Torrhen quickly pulled out the parchment and put his left arm up as well. "I swear it, we mean you no harm. We simply seek an audience."

"What do you want with Mance?" Tormund asked, stepping closer.

Torrhen had almost forgotten how tall the man was, but he kept his composure and replied calmly. "His aide, his people. We have no wish to see you added to the ranks of the true enemy."

That took Tormund aback. "You know?" He whispered.

"We know." Torrhen nodded. "And we know how to kill them."

Tormund looked suspicious, but he put his sword away. "How do you know?"

"Because I've done it before." Torrhen said. "I fought the Night King before, and we killed each other in the process. The Old Gods blessed me and sent me back."

Tormund looked at Torrhen for a moment before he snorted in amusement. "Witchcraft, do you think me a fool?"

"I can prove it." Torrhen said, still with his hands up in the air. "I know who you are, I know your history, Tormund Giantsbane."

Tormund took a step back, snarling in confusion. "The crows know who I am. That proves nothing."

"You have two daughters." Torrhen said quickly. "The eldest is named Munda, and she has recently been stolen by Longspear Ryk, but not without a fight. You fucked a she bear and once was mistaken for a giants babe. Need I go on or do I need to show you at a Weirwood our history?"

Tormund looked almost scared, but he shook his head. "No crow could know those things. Only one of us…"

"Only a friend." Torrhen said, bringing his arms down. "We were friends, you and I. We fought side by side outside the gates of Winterfell, and you saved my life there." The Stark sighed. "I know how this sounds, trust me, but I swear by the Gods I mean you no harm."

"We fought together?" Tormund questioned.

"We did." Torrhen confirmed. "It was a bloodbath, you loved it."

Tormund grinned. "That sounds like me." He noted. "Very well, I will take you to Mance. But if he doesn't like you, then I will enjoy watching you southerners scream as you die." He turned around and whistled loudly, and suddenly Torrhen noticed over a dozen figures rising from various parts of the mountainside. Nodding, he turned back to his group, careful to pat Balerion to calm the Direwolf before he remounted his horse, following the red-headed Wildling further down the path.

The arrival of the royal fleet in King's Landing had been planned out to the maximum. Bran was one of the first to arrive in the Red Keep and had been immediately led towards the gallery, along with a whole host of other nobles that he barely recognised. He did remember Lord Manderly however, and went to stand by him as the rest of the room found their places. Bran noticed Renly Baratheon stood talking to some people he didn't recognise, and he also spotted that the Queen was also in the gallery surrounded by a group of girls, and he found her to be as beautiful as ever, although her breasts were larger. He must have been staring for too long, as Wyman Manderly gently nudged the young Stark. "The ceremony is about to start, My Lord." Wyman whispered with a grin on his face.

Bran flushed red with embarrassment, but he paid attention towards the Iron Throne at that point, and noticed that King Robert had gotten even more slim, although his face still showed it's roundness his belly wasn't as pronounced as Bran remembered. The King nodded to the Grand Maester, and the Tyrell Grand Maester spoke in a booming voice. "Silence for His Grace, King Robert of the House Baratheon!"

The room fell quiet, and Bran was enraptured as King Robert stood up powerfully. "With the destruction of Pyke and the decimation of the Ironborn, I can now pronounce this Ironborn rebellion over and won!" The crowd in the Throne Room applauded for a moment before Robert held up his hand. "To ensure that the Islands will pose no threat in the future, their base of power will forever be a ruin, and a governor will be appointed for each of the islands in due course. I also decree that from this day, no ships larger than trading vessels will be built on the Iron Islands, and each House will be limited to a maximum of twenty ships under their ownership. Should these decrees be broken, then once more the full might of Westeros shall descend on them." More applause followed until once more, Robert held his hand up to silence the room. "House Greyjoy shall become extinct. The sole heir to Pyke has renounced his claim and denounced his family and shall forever remain a ward of House Stark. Balon Greyjoy shall die, here, by my hand."

Bran gulped, not having realised up until now the position that this would have put Theon in. He hoped that the Greyjoy he had grown up with wouldn't hate him for Summer killing his sister. He couldn't dwell on that for long though as the doors of the Throne Room opened, and in walked Stannis Baratheon and Davos Seaworth, with two guards following them dressed in Baratheon livery, the men carrying the chains that were attached to Balon Greyjoy's hands and neck. They walked the length of the Throne Room in silence, ignoring the whispers of the gathered crowd on the floor. They stopped before the steps leading up to the Iron Throne and both Stannis and Davos got down on one knee before Robert.

"Rise." The King said powerfully, and Stannis and Davos did as they were bid. "Many thanks are owed to you both for ending this rebellion in my absence."

"We did our duty towards you, Your Grace." Stannis said calmly.

"And you did it well." Robert nodded. "Ser Davos, I hear you were instrumental in the sea battle that sunk most of the Iron Fleet."

Davos nodded. "They were expecting a similar tactic to the last time, Your Grace. I suggested we use that to our advantage."

"Your service won't go unrewarded." Robert told him. "During the wars of the last year House Wylde in the Stormlands have been reduced to but one woman, Lady Alyce. She is unwed, and I would have your son and heir marry her. Rain House and the lands in the Rainwood forest will belong to your grandsons and your House until the end of time. See me afterwards and I shall personally knight the boy myself."

Davos immediately sank to one knee. "Thank you, Your Grace. We shall never forget this honour."

Robert grinned. "Good." He then looked at Stannis. "Brother, for too long we have been at odds and I have not seen your value to my rule. That changes now. I formally name you Hand of the King."

Stannis had already been the Hand for ages now, but to be officially named Hand clearly made Stannis happy, and Bran noticed a twitch in his face. "Thank you, Your Grace. I have served you these many years and shall continue to serve until the end of my days."

"I also formally name you my heir, until a trueborn son is born to me." Robert said loudly, and whispers spread through the room. Bran remembered that the Queen had birthed a daughter, but the histories about female heirs to the Throne didn't lie.

"A title I hope to keep for a short time." Stannis told Robert.

Robert grinned, gesturing to a seat that had been placed beside the Iron Throne. Stannis walked up the steps and past the Kingsguard to reach it and he sat down, with Ser Davos slinking off to the side. Robert then glared down at his prisoner. "And now, I shall deal with you." He almost snarled. Robert took a step forwards. "The last time we spoke, you told me that you were not a traitor because you hadn't sworn an oath. You swore one not moments later, and yet you still rose in rebellion. Well I now denounce you as a traitor, and by my own hand you shall die a traitor's death." Two of the Kingsguard walked to one side of the room. Ser Hugh of the Vale came back and placed a wooden block firmly on the ground in front of Balon Greyjoy, who had been forced down onto his knees with his neck chains unlocked, and the Greyjoy was forced down over the block. Ser Rolland Storm meanwhile had grabbed a greatsword that was twice the size of Bran and was as thick as any sword that he had ever seen. He offered the handle to Robert Baratheon, and the King unsheathed it gracefully. The blade looked fresh forged and it shone in the candlelight. Robert rested the tip down on the stone floor and leant on the blade as his Father often did with Ice. "Will you speak a final word?" Balon Greyjoy just stared at the floor. The King gave him a moment to speak, but finally gave up. "Very well." Robert gripped the blade in two hands and swung forcefully. The blade sung as it moved through the air and severed the Greyjoy's head in one fell swoop.

Robert handed the blade back to Ser Rolland and addressed the crowd. "Let it be known that this is the treatment that traitors receive! Your House lost to history, and your head atop a spike on the Traitor's Walk. Clean this up." He ordered to nobody in particular. "Court is dismissed."

Bran felt a hand on his shoulders, and he was guided away by Lord Wyman. "Come on lad, let us go and set you up in your new chambers."

"New chambers?" Bran asked.

Wyman nodded, his chins wobbling. "The new Ser Matthos will no longer be another squire for Stannis, so you must have chambers closer to him in the Tower of the Hand." Wyman grinned. "And you best write to Winterfell to explain your news."

The march towards Yunkai was speedy in its second day. Jon had the honour of riding beside Daenerys, leaving both of their main protectors some distance behind them, reminiscing on old wars.

"Do you remember the night before?" Jory asked as his horse slowly made its way forwards. "Sat on the ship not knowing how long it would be until we saw land again?"

Jorah nodded. "Aye, I remember being woken up by one of my men saying that a breach had been made and we were to take the castle. I was in such a rush I forgot to piss."

Jory grinned. "And yet you were one of the first through the breach."

"Aye, behind Thoros of Myr waving around his damned flaming sword." Jorah reminisced. "The madman."

"I shall never forget that sight until the day I die." Jory noted. "Nor will I forget fighting beside the Kingslayer in the courtyards of Pyke."

"That day was the proudest of my life." Jorah admitted. "It was my first war as Lord of Bear Island, leading our men and women. I charged through the breach and took down more Ironborn than I can count. Robert Baratheon himself knighted me after Balon surrendered, yet now all I can remember vividly about it is how much I needed to piss as Robert said the words."

Jory snickered at that, before he sobered up. "And then came the tourney."

"That damned tourney." Jorah muttered darkly. "If Jaime Lannister had have unhorsed me in the final then I would likely still be sat at Bear Island now, no doubt some ugly woman at my side and some sons running around the place. Instead Robert granted me the victory after 9 lances and I fancied myself in love with Lynesse."

"And here you are." Jory said, knowing that the topic of Ser Jorah's Hightower wife was a sore one.

"And here I am." Jorah said, looking forwards and staring at Dany's back. "And as mad as it sounds, I'm glad to be here, serving her."

Jory followed his gaze. "Is she worth all this?" He said quietly. "Really? I remember the rebellion. I remember her Father."

"You can't have been very old." Jorah commented.

"I was 16 when the banners were called." Jory stated. "My Father took me aside and told me that I was to join him. I fought at the Stony Sept, and then at the Trident. I rode beside him as we entered King's Landing, and then marched to Storm's End as well."

"That was the worst moment for me." Jorah said honestly. "After King's Landing the thought of facing the Tyrell army filled me with dread."

"And then we broke that siege and my Father rode with Lord Stark to Dorne, and I rode home to King's Course. I never saw him again." Jory said solemnly.

"I'm sorry." Jorah said honestly. "I wonder about my own Father sometimes, what he's facing at the Wall, whether he'd ever forgive me."

Jory nodded, not knowing what to say. "But they are wherever they are, and we are here."

"Serving them." Jorah added, nodding towards the two Targaryen's in the distance.

"They've gotten closer." Jory commented. "Jon didn't come back to his tent last night."

That surprised Jorah. "Do you think they…" He trailed off, not wanting to think about what the pair had been doing.

Jory nodded. "He gave that impression when I saw him earlier."

"That could cause problems." Jorah stated plainly. "If they go to Westeros…"

"They won't." Jory stated plainly. "Not until something changes in King's Landing."

The something was obvious, but Jory didn't even want to think it. "Aye, you may be right." Jorah said, slightly downcast. "Until then we'll be following them in Essos."

"Freeing slaves." Jory said. "You can atone."

Jorah said nothing but gave Jory a curt nod. They rode on in silence for a few moments until the procession stopped by a river. "The Khaleesi must be choosing her captain." He explained.

"We should join them." Jory noted that in their discussions they'd fallen behind slightly. Jorah nodded, and together they galloped past the hundreds of Unsullied between them and the two Targaryen's, and allowed their horses drinks while an Unsullied man named Grey Worm was chosen as the leader of the eunuch soldiers.

The Lord of Winterfell was in his solar, a regular occurrence since Torrhen had 'woken up' four years earlier. He wasn't alone, as he looked down on the floor by his desk to see his daughter, Sara, playing with a wooden Direwolf. Her own Direwolf, Red, was also in the room snoozing by the fire. Ned meanwhile was signing off on the latest shipment of Dragonglass and he aimed to have a wagon sent to Castle Black in the next couple of days once Mikken had worked his magic.

As he was about to press his seal to the parchment when he felt a tug on his sleeves. Sara had walked over to his chair with her toy and had a big grin on her face. "What is it, Sara?" Ned asked kindly.

"Papa play wolf?" She asked sweetly.

Ned chuckled. "Not quite yet, little one." He saw Sara trying to pull herself up to see what was on the desk, and Ned laughed again, putting the seal down to pick her up and pop her on his knee. "Do you want to stamp the seal?" Sara nodded eagerly, and so Ned picked up the seal and dipped it in the hot, grey wax of his House. He placed it in Sara's little hand and held his own around hers, before directing it to the folded over parchment and pressing down. Sara giggled when she saw the Direwolf form in the grey wax circle.

"Again!" She cried.

Ned laughed. "There's no more Sara." He said. The young red-haired Stark pouted, but Ned picked up her wooden wolf and started pretending it was walking along the desk, causing his youngest daughter to start giggling fiercely.

A knock at the door interrupted him from entertaining his daughter, as one guardsman opened the door and announced. "Maester Luwin, My Lord."

"Send him in." Ned said in what his children all called his 'Lord's voice'. He let Sara grasp the toy and watched the door as the elderly Maester walked in. "Luwin." He greeted.

"My Lord." Luwin bowed. "A raven from King's Landing. It held two letters." He handed them out to Ned, who took them both in the one free hand he had, the other was holding Sara still. "Would you like me to take Sara to Lady Catelyn?"

Ned thought for a moment. "No, I'll do that in a moment. Thank you, Luwin."

Luwin bowed once more. "Very good, My Lord." He said before departing the room.

Ned made sure Sara was occupied and couldn't make too much of a mess from objects within her reach before he looked at the seals on the two letters. One was quite clearly the King's own seal, while one was a Direwolf head in the turquoise of House Manderly. Ned presumed that Bran had been helped by Lord Wyman and was quickly grateful that a Northman was in the Capital with his son. Putting that letter to one side however, he opened the letter from Robert. He scanned it quickly, seeing that it was initially a simple announcement that Balon Greyjoy was dead, clearly penned by a Maester. He then saw Robert's barely legible scribbles, and the King was writing to make sure that Theon would be no issue in the future, as he won't suffer a third rebellion from the Iron Islands. Ned knew that Theon meant his words and pulled some parchment over to scribble reassurance to Robert about that. Then he opened Bran's letter, and while his words were not news to Ned, he felt an ache in his heart as he read Bran's writing detail his experiences in the war, and how he had killed Tristifer Botley by his own blade while Summer savaged Theon's sister. Knowing that Ned's words alone weren't enough to ease Bran's worries, Ned turned Sara around so he could carry her with the one hand, and he stood up to leave the room, taking the letter with him.

He found Catelyn talking to Vayon Poole in the courtyard, and his wife looked delighted to see him carrying Sara, with Red following along behind them. "My Lady, Vayon." Ned greeted.

"My Lord." Vayon Poole bowed.

"See that it's done, Vayon." Cat said calmly, and the steward bowed his head at both of them and walked away. "The first fields have started their first harvest, I was ensuring that space enough was sorted for the grain."

"Very good." Ned nodded. "Here." He handed Cat the letter. He watched as she read it, shifting Sara in his hands as she squirmed, and he felt bad when he saw tears form in her eyes. Cat choked out a sob, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"He's so young…" She whispered. "To have seen such horrors…"

Ned smiled sadly and placed his spare hand on her shoulder. "He is a Stark of Winterfell, and he is a survivor."

Cat nodded, sniffing. "That he is." She accepted. "My boys… all so young and have all seen war."

"Rickon has not." Ned tried to say.

"Rickon will not." Cat stated firmly. "He is barely 6 years old, Ned."

He agreed with her there. "No, he will not. Nor will Robin." He would not send Jon's boy into a situation he clearly wasn't ready for, no matter who pressured him to do so. "And nor will Bran now, not until we all must fight."

Cat smiled sadly, and her eyes looked heartbroken. "I pray that you are right, Ned." She held the letter tight to her breast. "If you'll excuse me, I must pray."

Ned nodded, and he watched as Cat walked over towards the Sept. He held Sara tighter, and noticed her stomach beginning to growl. He grinned at her and said. "Is my little wolf hungry?" Sara had her thumb in her mouth and nodded. "Then let us go to the kitchens, I'm sure we can find some sweets."