C2

After several hours of talking, eating, drinking, and arguing with her newfound cousins, Daenerys was feeling much less confident about her chances of winning the throne of Westeros. Her uncle's death was bad enough. The fact that he had betrayed her was even worse. The last person she'd expected to betray her was Joffrey, but the boy was clearly mad. Worse yet, the rest of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms seemed determined to vote against her. Some even called her a traitor. Others questioned her motives for even claiming the Iron Throne at all. The worst part was that she had to agree with all of them. Her plan was insane and her motivations dubious. She wasn't really interested in ruling over Westeros. She was more focused on protecting the children of the forest, the future generations of her race who lived beyond the wall. Of course, she had to rule in order to do that. And so far, no one else seemed willing to step forward and help. They were all too busy fighting amongst themselves. Even her own mother was plotting against her. Jaime had been forced to kill his sister in order to save Cersei's life. That was something Daenerys would have preferred to avoid altogether.

In short, Daenerys was desperate. She'd spent the entire day listening to the complaints of her newly discovered relatives and was ready to collapse. Her legs ached from riding the dragon all morning, her stomach felt empty despite the food and drink she'd consumed, and she was exhausted from the constant barrage of criticism. She was not accustomed to dealing with naysayers. Her Uncle Viserys would always tell her that the best way to handle critics was to ignore them and move ahead with whatever she wanted. Yet no matter how much she wished the problem away it refused to disappear. The longer she waited, the more likely it was that her enemies would strike. She needed allies. More importantly, she needed supporters. Unfortunately, none of the lords she'd met thus far appeared overly fond of the idea of following her. Her cousin Drogon, however, had promised that he would return with reinforcements soon. Until then, she could only wait and hope…

As Daenerys watched her cousin glide off into the distance, she felt a sudden sense of panic rise within her. She was tired of waiting! Tired of hearing people talk about how terrible she was. Tired of sitting idly by whilst others argued back and forth about what should happen next. The sun had set by now. Soon the night sky above would become shrouded in darkness. It wouldn't be long before the full moon rose and the first stars began to appear overhead. If this meeting didn't end well tonight, she didn't know what she'd do next. Maybe she'd just take her army and march straight north to Valyria without any regard for anything else. Who cared? If they killed her, they'd kill every last living Targaryen. Her father had done the same when he'd marched south with ten thousand footmen to fight the Lannisters. The difference between them though was that Robert Baratheon's forces had lost badly; hers might not fare so well either. The Tyrells and Martells had thousands of knights trained for battle. The Lannisters outnumbered her forces by a ratio of at least thirty to one. No, her army would not win unless she won. And that meant finding an ally.

The moment the thought entered her head, Daenerys suddenly realized something very important. She couldn't find someone to trust if she kept acting like a spoiled child. Instead of complaining or crying, she took a deep breath and stood tall. Then Daenerys walked right up to her uncle's body. "I'm sorry," she said softly, taking care not to wake the corpse. "But I have no intention of bowing down before you…"

Uncle Viserys had always tried to treat her as though she were the same age as her twin brother Rhaegar when they were younger. This had infuriated her father; he'd often complain that Viserys had treated his only daughter more like a princess than a warrior. He had complained that the man had never taken her seriously. That hadn't bothered Daenerys as much as it did her father, but it seemed that even that had changed after her father's death.

Her uncle's face had never held the features of the Mad King though. He'd still possessed some shred of common sense. His eyes still reflected intelligence; it had simply been hidden beneath a layer of madness. But he had shown kindness as well; it had simply been disguised as cruelty. She remembered him teaching her to ride when she was eight years old. He had laughed as she fell off yet again while trying to steer Drogon around a roundabout. "You're supposed to lean forward when you go around corners, Your Grace!" he had chided. Later that same year, Viserys had given his niece a pair of silver spurs as a reward for completing her training. She would forever remember those spurs as being among the finest gifts she'd ever received in her life. "It takes practice, I suppose…"

Daenerys reached out and stroked the side of his face. There were tears in her eyes but she ignored them. She knew why they were there.

"Why?" she whispered quietly. "What happened to us? Why? What were we supposed to be? Were you wrong to keep me safe? To protect me from harm? Was I truly too young to understand what was happening? Did we fail somehow? Was our love not enough? Or was it the other way around? Perhaps it was your fault entirely."

Viserys' skin felt cold to Daenerys' touch. It felt almost brittle, which was strange considering that the man was dead. Daenerys leaned closer, placing both hands against his cheeks. Tears streamed down Daenerys' face again, mingling with the blood that stained his lips. Daenerys closed her eyes tightly, fighting back her urge to weep aloud. Finally, Daenerys pulled away from her uncle, wiping at her wet cheeks. She opened her mouth, preparing to say the words that she'd struggled to speak all evening long. Just then, a sudden gust swept through the courtyard, stirring the grass beneath her feet. As she turned to look back at the castle, she saw the moon rising above the eastern mountains.

The moon shone brightly, casting its light over the grounds surrounding Castle Black. The wind carried a scent of wild roses that reminded her of home. She breathed deeply, inhaling the fragrance. When she looked up once more, she caught sight of movement high atop the Wall. A single figure emerged from behind one of the great stone pinnacles. Its silhouette was familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she'd seen him before until suddenly he moved lower along the top of the Wall until he finally made his presence known. It was Jon Snow, dressed in nothing more than a thin shirt and breeches. The moonlight glimmered off the knife at his belt. He wore black boots and gloves as well. In spite of all the danger involved, Daenerys grinned broadly. "That's my little bastard," she said excitedly. "Jon Snow. My son!" She turned back to Viserys, smiling wide. "Now, uncle. We'll have to discuss that whole incest thing later. Right now, I need you to listen to me carefully. Listen hard. I want to thank you. Thank you for everything. For keeping my secrets. For loving me even though I was unworthy. But most importantly, I want to apologize for being such an ungrateful bitch all these years. I don't deserve you…not even close…"

Daenerys turned back to Jon. He nodded respectfully as she approached. He had removed his cloak and thrown it aside, revealing the dark tattoos upon his bare chest. On the left side, she recognized the three-headed dog that served as a mark of House Stark. Beneath the animal, a simple line marked off a square patch of skin that stretched across half of Jon's torso. Upon reaching Jon, Daenerys placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him soundly.

"Thank you for coming here, Jon," she told him gently. "My life has been a mess since I've arrived. You were one of the few friends who showed up to greet me at Winterfell and it meant so much to me."

She stepped back from him, looking at the two men. "He's got a good heart, doesn't he?" she asked.

Jon shrugged slightly as he stared into her eyes. Daenerys smiled. "Don't be shy. Say something."

Jon cleared his throat awkwardly. "I…I can see why Ned trusted you. You're…you're beautiful, Your Grace. And strong. Stronger than anyone thinks. And brave. And smart. And wise. And talented. And funny. And…"

"Enough," Daenerys told him, grinning mischievously. "Ned would be so proud of you. And so am I. So please, tell me. How did you get here?"

The raven cawed loudly, causing Daenerys and Jon to turn their heads.

The bird flapped its wings furiously, flying over to perch itself upon a nearby tree branch.

"Your birds are clever," Jon noted. "Wherever do you keep them?"

The raven hopped lightly onto the ground beside them, cawing twice more.

"Quiet!" Daenerys snapped.

When the creature remained silent, Daenerys sighed happily and scratched the beast beneath its beak. When the bird stopped purring, she spoke again.

"We'll talk later," she said firmly.

"No," Jon protested. "Not like this. Not without telling me everything that's happened to you. Everything! All of it! If you think I'm going anywhere without hearing all of this, then you're sorely mistaken."

A loud clanging rang out behind them. Turning her head toward the source of the noise, Daenerys saw that Lord Segano had returned. His face was redder than usual. His nostrils flared as he drew near. The lord's hands trembled as he grasped the hilt of the sword hanging from his waist. "You've had time enough to rest," he growled dangerously as he approached the pair. "Lord Commander Mormont wishes to know—"

Before the man could finish, Daenerys raised her voice once more. "There will be plenty of time for talking soon enough. We have a war to win first."

Segano glared at Daenerys, but she paid him no heed. Instead, she faced Jon. Her expression was serious as she told him, "If this isn't convenient, I'll wait 'til dawn if I must."

For the first time that day, a hint of a smile crossed Jon's face. "I promise you. Whatever happens today, I'll try not to make a total ass of myself. At least not in front of strangers."