#hazzea

[thaliajoy-blog]

Well well while I'm working on my new Daenerys stuff I realize there's fully finished older stuff I didn't post yet. From the Unburnt (Daenerys centric) collab (n°1) :

Adding down there the thought process cause I really worked that out.

Themes : dual motherhood, conflicted motherhoods. Instinct to protect. Conflict between desire & ability. Love and hate. Daenerys is associated both to the endangered child in need of protection, and to that of the ruler & protector. In addition to that, she is finally also associated to the "monster", the creature that endangers children. At opposite sides of the spectrum of "children", are Missandei and the dragons, both dear to Daenerys (she wishes to care for them the best she can) & in a precarious position (not safe/kept in chains).

Important quotes :

1) "They are afraid for their children," Reznak said. Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I.

2) "No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys ….I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …"

"… mother," whispered Missandei. "Mother to dragons." Dany shivered. "No. Mother to us all." Missandei hugged her tighter.

3) She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman’s pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon ? (Echo of "Dragons plant no trees" later in the book)

4) What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness ? If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power ?

5) The winged shadow, the grieving father called him. He was the largest of her three, the fiercest, the wildest, with scales as black as night and eyes like pits of fire. (= the main child of Daenerys, haunting this chapter)

6) Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

[greenbardasoiaf]

ASOIAF: Dany Abandons Her Children, Drogon Abandons Dany, Dragon Bonds IV, Part I, covers her first 2 chapters of A Dance with Dragons. and contrasts the savage nature of her dragons & conquest against her wish to be a peaceful ruler.

Thanks to the artists!

@shebsart @chillyravenart @ertacaltinoz @kallielef @sanrixian @kallielefave @yvyb @the-lady-rae @vkcoleart and more!

[jozor-johai]

This is just a short note I will expand on elsewhere, but GRRM has this somewhat infamous quote about LOTR, about what to do with the orcs after the story ends. This is about rulership—what happens after the conquest?

Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it’s not that simple. Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles?

Part of what I love to death about ASOIAF is that it seems fundamentally more interested in these questions than the excitement of the conquest itself.

I see this quote brought up about the Others every once in a while, but I also think that we might be seeing one iteration of this idea with Dany in Meereen and the children of the slavers:

“The Sons of the Harpy are laughing in their pyramids,” Skahaz said, just this morning. “What good are hostages if you will not take their heads?” In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.” (ADWD Dany IV)

There are obvious differences—for a start, humans have the potential to grow up to be anything, rather than the known entity of the inherent evil when it comes to orcs.

In an ASOIAF-relevant context, though, the question is similar: you won, do you eradicate your enemies? Their remaining families? What if it looks like a direct path to peace for those you were fighting for? “What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children?”

Considering that slavery is some of the clearest evil we’ve seen in the books thus far, I think this is one way GRRM is be bringing his thoughts on fantasy rulership to a more human context in ASOIAF.

The issue of letting the children live (or not) also makes for another very interesting parallel between Dany and Robert Baratheon, who is another key figure in ASOIAF’s exploration for how one rules after the battle has been won. Barristan makes the connection nearly explicitly for the reader, standing up for Ned’s name:

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.” (ADWD Dany II)

Robert was faced with the same choice and, over the course of his reign, has been given two different takes, one to start his reign and one at the end of it. Robert’s peace was bought with the blood of Rhaegar’s children, the young Aegon and Rhaenys, delivered—albeit unsolicited—by the Lannisters, to cement Robert’s legitimacy and their own stake in his rule. At the end of his reign, Robert is faced with the premise of a new Targaryen baby being born and Ned offers an contrary opinion much like Dany’s own (in spirit if not in allegiance):

“Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”

There’s plenty more to be said, but I just want to point out this angle for interpreting the GRRM LOTR quote. For one, sometimes people take issue with how literally GRRM himself is enacting his criticisms (saying things like, 'we never see Robert's tax policy either')—but this is a great example of how GRRM can raise a criticism that fits for a different series and make it work within his own world by adjusting the circumstances.

Also, I think that for discussions that attempt to predict where the story will go from here based on comments like this from GRRM, it’s important to see where GRRM is already exploring these ideas. In ASOIAF, this sort of application doesn’t require this idea to be explored with some kind of similarly-undying evil like the orcs or like Sauron, GRRM is applying these ideas to much more human evils, like slavery, and much more human applications, like any kind of military victory.

[starry-eyer]

Ned’s ill fated time as hand of the king was a really interesting exploration of how little even a highest lord’s wishes can end up mattering within the nightmare that is Westerosi feudalism. Ned became first among equals in the vipers nest that is King’s Landing—lacking the normal power he possessed at Winterfell—and later found himself a victim of the never ending politicking and machinations that ended up being the death of him. But I think the way he had to concede ground on his own morals in favor of what he considered the bigger picture perfectly encapsulated one of George’s central theses on rulership: ruling is hard.

On that note, this is why Ned’s decision to warn Cersei stands out as one of the most defining moments of his character. By this point, Ned had already conceded much—forced to compromise his values in order to function within the royal court—but this was his bottom line, one that he refused to cross, and one that had been recently tested by Robert with his assassination attempt on Dany. Now, once again faced with the prospect of children being slaughtered, Ned made his choice.

It’s easy to call Ned foolish for this, but I don’t think that’s fair. Yes, it was a poor political move, but it was also a calculated risk—one he believed he could afford to take at the time. And more importantly, it was a risk he was willing to take. Not wanting children to die and taking risks for that cause is always worthwhile, and the narrative constantly reaffirms this.

This is why I’m so fond of Ned, because he doesn’t buy into the nihilistic version of the Game. And frankly, Ned didn’t fail because he told Cersei. The real reason for his failure is much simpler—it’s because he bet on the wrong player: Robert.

Robert failed Ned from the beginning by putting Ned in such a situation. This quote exemplifies how Ned’s personal connection to Robert, which later turned into political and social alignment, led to Ned being forced to go against personal values:

Ned wanted no part in what he considered folly, yet his name was stamped on it regardless. Even in opposition, he was complicit. Janos Slynt’s casual “call it what you will” throwaway line underscored a brutal truth: Ned’s personal opinions on the matter were irrelevant. To the rest of the realm, that was his tourney, his responsibility.

This was a pattern throughout Ned’s time as Hand—he was trapped in a grey where his presence marked him as complicit in decisions he opposed. To be clear, I don’t think he lacked agency here as leaving would have always been an option, but for Ned, it was never a real option. Not when Ned needed to find out the truth of Jon Arryn’s death. Not when Robert, his friend, still sat on the throne despite how poor of a king he had become.

Though this begs the question: if Robert wasn’t so irresponsible, then would Ned have lost his head? At the end of the day that’s where Ned truly fails, he should have heeded the many warning signs and should not have connected himself so utterly to Robert.

On the topic of character’s failures, I really like how Ned resurfaces in Dany’s chapters. Dany serves as the perspective from the other side of the aftermath of the rebellion, meaning she’s only been privy to Ned’s worst side. So it makes sense that these two storylines converse with each other around themes of guilt and accountability, because that’s what their narrative relationship is defined by: Ned’s guilt over the aftermath of the rebellion and the life Dany’s lived in response to said rebellion.

A crucial question Dany asks is: does Ned bear responsibility for the deaths of Dany’s family? But that leads to an even more difficult question:

Is Dany responsible for Hazzea’s?

The answer is complicated. Neither Ned nor Dany directly caused these deaths, yet both acknowledged a degree of responsibility. However, accountability =\= punishment lol (I think people often conflate these two separate concepts together).

Both Ned and Dany came to understand that ruling meant bearing responsibility for unintended consequences. Just as Dany grapples with Hazzea’s death and her role in it, Ned carried the weight of the past, questioning his own role in the fall of House Targaryen and Robert’s reign.

And Dany, like Ned, experienced the confines of rulership, but unlike Ned, Dany didn’t commit the folly of killing her house’s sigil. Now she has the opportunity to do better after ridding herself of her floppy ears.

On a side note, (going back to Eddard vi), I also like how after Janos’s speech about the problems/deaths that had occurred in the wake of increased traffic in the city, most of the small council try to paint the tourney in a good light by speaking about the economic benefits. Economic gain outweighing the human cost to Those sorts of people is no surprise. Who really cares about the beheaded woman no one can identify? Well, most of the council clearly doesn’t. These tiny details contain so much good commentary :)

[prahelika]

3 am arya thoughts:

“You’ll need to carry me.” See? thought Mercy. You know your line, and so do I. “Think so?” asked Arya, sweetly. Raff the Sweetling looked up sharply as the long thin blade came sliding from her sleeve.

She took a step, and another, and with each she felt less a mouse. She worked her way down the bench, filling wine cups. Rorge sat to Jaqen’s right, deep drunk, but he took no note of her. Arya leaned close and whispered, “Chiswyck,” right in Jaqen’s ear.

“Why don’t you just kill me like you did Mycah?” Arya had screamed at him. She was still defiant then, more angry than scared.

She never forgets anyone. Never. Whether it's Mycah, the butcher's son she used to play with as a nine-year old, or Lommy who bullies her and attacks her viciously before they become friends. Lommy stays with her even as she tries to shed the name of Arya Stark, so much so that she remembers Raff and kills him using poetic justice. Even Layna, the innkeeper's daughter who was raped by Gregor Clegane, who she never even knew. Arya gives Chiswyck's name to Jaqen instead of say, Weese or Raff, who were incredibly cruel to her. All because he told Layna's story as if it were a joke.

There's only one other character who I can think of who remembers and cares about people so much.

No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost.

The thing that surprised Dany most was how unsurprised she was. She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought.

They're really so similar... children forced to go through so much, who still retain their compassion, kindness and sense of justice, no matter what happens to them. I hope they meet up in the books, and finally, finally, get to have their happy ending with each other.

[atopvisenyashill]

Hi! What do you think about the Dany relationships with Drogo and Daario?

I think people act like Daario is an “indulgence” or Dany ~choosing herself~ but what he is is a mistake and a bad influence that says nothing good for her moving forward.

The truth is, she knows very little about him. She doesn't know about his life, his family, how he feels about Tyrosh, she only knows that he is a sellsword, a "bad" man, and devoted to her. So why is she interested in him? Because of his violence, because of what makes him morally bad in her eyes. He is very guiltless about his violence and his impulses and she likes that. As she grapples with her own morality after the Hazzea incidient, she clings to him more because he would never feel guilt over Drogon killing a little girl like she does and she doesn't want to.

That's the main thing I think a lot of people miss when they point out that she is disgusted by the violence of her advisors - she does not like her own disgust. She views it as a weakness by the end of the book, as shown by her completely forgetting Hazzea's name and deciding "dragons plant no trees." She knows and in facts thinks to herself that Daario is not meant to be a ruler and yet she finds herself embracing his way of thinking by the end of a dance with dragons, implicitly acknowledging that she herself is not meant to be a ruler however her intentions may have started! And all the Euron-Daario theories are dumb because they miss what Daario is there for, which is to introduce a lesser villain to Dany that she will develop romantic feelings for....to prime her for being captivated by Euron's lies in the end!

And that brings us to Drogo. I think it makes sense that as Dany accepts Daario and his violence as the correct path, she finds herself in the Dothraki Sea once again. Drogo is where she first learned to conflate violence and safety after all. No, it wasn't Viserys - Viserys did not keep her safe, Viserys' violence was petulant, needy, and ultimately useless. But Drogo! Drogo is the first time she sees how violence can grant you power, and how proximity to violence can make you safe (for a time). Daenerys calls herself the blood of the dragon but I think it's notable that she refers to herself as a khaleesi still. She patterns herself off of Drogo; it's why she reacts to Mirri the way she does, because she accepts that idea of a master being above a slave that the Dothraki push. It's the same reason she identifies with the Unsullied but not Irri, Jhiqui, or Mirri - she identifies with power above all, because power is safety. Drogo was the first person to make her feel like a princess, and now she has fully accepted his way of looking at the world while in his homeland.

I want to be clear that I don't see these things as like....oh she's a dumb violent fascist who is always chasing after violent men. She is forced to marry Drogo. She has no choice in having Viserys for a brother. Her feet are set down on this path by others and it's only her own moral compass that has allowed her to forego it for so long. But ultimately, her conflation of violence with power through her relationships with Daario and Drogo are leading her to her death.

[agentrouka-blog]

"It was a dream. I(Stannis) was in my tent when Renly died, and when I woke my hands were clean."- Davos(ACOK).

"Clean hands, Sansa. Whatever you do, make certain your hands are clean."- Sansa(ASOS).

"No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea."- Dany(ADWD).

What do you think about these quotes?

It's a rare moment of ethical reflection for Dany.

Stannis and Littlefinger are both concerned with the appearance of innocence in the pursuit of power, in their own eyes and those of others. Kinslaying? Conspiracy to commit regicide? Their hands are clean!

His line to Sansa ties into a later one in AFFC, trying to pressure her into obedience and silence, after equally pressuring her to lie about Marillion:

“Especially when we are alone. Elsewise a day will come when a servant walks into a room unannounced, or a guardsman at the door chances to hear something he should not. Do you want more blood on your pretty little hands, my darling?” Marillion’s face seemed to float before her, the bandage pale across his eyes. Behind him she could see Ser Dontos, the crossbow bolts still in him. “No,” Sansa said. “Please.” “I am tempted to say this is no game we play, daughter, but of course it is. The game of thrones.” I never asked to play. The game was too dangerous. One slip and I am dead. (AFFC, Sansa I)

He paints blood onto her hands where she never had much choice. Her complicity consists of her acceptance of this control over herself, her attempts to ignore that no matter her silence, he will continue to sacrifice people in his wake.

Dany, meanwhile, is grappling with her political choices during the banquet to celebrate the peace with Yunkai, setting up her violent escape the next chapter.

So Daenerys sat silent through the meal, wrapped in a vermilion tokar and black thoughts, speaking only when spoken to, brooding on the men and women being bought and sold outside her walls, even as they feasted here within the city. Let her noble husband make the speeches and laugh at the feeble Yunkish japes. That was a king's right and a king's duty. Much of the talk about the table was of the matches to be fought upon the morrow. [...]. One would be dead before the sun went down. No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. [...] How could I have been brought to this pass by creatures such as these? (ADWD, Daenerys VIII)

She is rightfully acknowledging the blood on her hands and the necessity for uncomfortable, painful political compromise in the service of a larger good. She started this project in all the wrong ways, violent and triumphant, and the taste of imperfect peace seems to be more bitter than the "price of war" she was willing to pay at the Lhazareen city.

She is trying to remind herself, convince herself, of the reasons for her choices. That there is no refuge in innocence when choosing to rule. But inside she is shrinking away from her own responsibility further and further.

"No queen has clean hands" will transform to "If I fall and die, it will still have been worth it", by the time she flies away from her burning people in the final chapter.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

31 - Light in the Darkest Storms

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 19.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character death, flashbacks, discussion of virginity, references to past rape, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, breeding kink

Notes: Holidays are over so we will go back to the regular posting schedule from now on. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Winter Town had scarcely ever been meaningfully populated in your time outside of war. Many who worked in the castle walls of Winterfell would find homes there but the town itself was not needed much when it had been the warmth of summer. But the closer you got the more you could see as the people all found settlement rivalling that of White Harbour or Barrowton, should you wager a guess you would say the more the people gathered it would be perhaps a fortnight or twice that before some fifteen thousand Northerns made home.

Only this time, it would be a King in the North to which the Northerners were gathering to settle close by in the winds. But whereas Jon Snow fit in this world without a shadow of a doubt, it was those echos of doubt shadowing over looks certain people were giving you. More then normal now, and many with a sense of unease.

The display on the journey home had rattled your own people and now they looked at their dead Queen as if her mind had snapped and were waiting for the rest of it to show it’s ugly head. But you didn’t know what to say to them to quell such concern, you had barley accomplished enough of it to bring Jon back down to something calm. He hadn’t been since that night, his eyes on you were not that of the same disturb as the people, but they watched you dark and close all the same.

Your horse riding beside his and constantly you tried to pretend as if you couldn’t feel his gaze, but in truth if you turned to look behind you, many gazes would’ve suddenly turned away abruptly. At least Jon would hold it with the same look.

Narrowed eyes with something protective behind them that he wasn’t sure how to express, not with how you’ve been.

When he had brought you back to your quarters on the ship, he had sat you on the edge of the bed, crouching in front of you with his hands keeping you steady on your upper arms. Asking you what happened, but you only stammered. “I’m- I don’t even remember getting out of bed, never had a dream like that..” You could only hear Hazzea’s screams that erupted into nothing as it was charred away along with the rest leaving nothing but black bones to haunt you. Or the look in the eyes of that dragon which was terrifying as it was angering.

It looked to the girl with nothing but a need to kill and then flew off, but how could you tell him that without sounding like only a dream? It must have been, but you didn’t feel like it. Your dreams varied from ominous to vivid and confusing but they never made you feel as if you were standing in the real world. It felt as real in that temple as it did when you turned around to find yourself back on the ship.

Cupping the sides of your cheeks, you hated how Jon’s face had been twisted into something just as upset as you felt on the inside. Grey eyes still tinted with a red behind them as your hands curled into your palms to keep them from shaking. His thumb running over your cheek as his voice was a bit breathless in his own worry, “Darling this wasn’t just some dream, I’ve never heard you scream like that..” Looking over your just as unsure state, Jon tried to tilt your face down to meet his eyes as they drifted away. “You weren’t -do you even know what language you were speaking?”

Your answer however, was specific. Too specific to the point it took Jon entirely off guard as his head jolted back a small bit. But it also dawned on you as you once more fell from his gaze, how specific that answer came in an instant.

It was the first flag that made you both feel uncomfortable over the matter, you had dreamt and spoke in a language you knew nothing of despite recognizing it coming from your mouth. “Do you know what you were saying?”

Distantly you nodded a yes, you could see everything in that temple clear as Jon was now. The enormity of a foreign culture you were ignorant to, the languages far from Westerosi common, the guards, the Queen at the very top and the two knights beside her. It was not the misting blurs of a dream world as you would recall. It was only half a story, one that was rambling as your mind still felt attached and Jon hardly could grasp how such a dream linked to what he saw.

Whispers of a Targaryean with three dragons and on the journey home you have a violent dream of dragons burning a child alive, Jon thought it could be a coincidence, but he felt doubt over it.

You had hardly slept since then, spending much of the nights out against the side of the ship looking out to the blackness over the night waters. One night he would convince you to try and sleep, the next you wouldn’t budge. It was as if you feared sleeping in chance of another dream, and perhaps you did.

Now as the sights of Winterfell came close as you all rode up, Jon beside you looked somehow like every other Northerner, and yet with the air of a King. Warm with the dark fur around his shoulders once more made him look intimidating but not with such in eyes. Grey eyes wide and bright, looking at his people with more then a humble nature, still finding it odd in his mind, that they would bow and kneel to him as “your grace”, as he nodded and acknowledged many of them.

You could only hope you didn’t look as lost and exhausted as you felt, tired of looking weak and pathetic at Jon’s side. The Queen who was losing her mind in the eyes of his people. A shame on his family that should be considered.

It had been busy the moment the gates of Winterfell rose up, neither you nor Jon bothering with much decorum. Things needed to be done and you wanted little time to spend watching people watch you. A decent number of resources on their way but you had to trust in others to covey details to the smiths on what exactly they were looking at. Groups finding purpose here and elsewhere as men around all worked to attend to the King in the North’s return but as you climbed from your own horse, your hands stayed attached to the saddle. Glancing around as whispers found their way in your mind, tingling against your skin as each flicker of eyes towards you spoke of judgment.

As one of the stable boys took the liberty of guiding your horse away you stood in the clearing feeling lost. Gloved hands now at your sides tensing and retensing as the whispers dulled to the increasing loudness of your beating hard in your ears, until it all came to a heart stopping end as Selyse came to your side. Eyes narrow and sharp as she quietly called your name, you could still feel your heart in your chest as you looked at her, but with a silence on your tongue waiting for her to speak first.

Glancing to the side before coming a step more to your front, “Maybe it is best if we bring you inside for now.” It might have been concern on her, but it was hard to see and every single even minor look in your direction made the whispering grow deafening. As if only a girl, you swallowed before nodding saying no words.

It was as Selyse shared a look across the way to Ser Davos, did the man’s attention diverting grab Jon’s eyes. Noticing your mother place a hand at your back and guide you inside without a word to anyone.

She knew her way around the castle well enough by that point, a fortnight here after your departure to White Harbour and she knew when places were busy and when not. It also, was the perfect time to bring you into the more quiet side of the kitchens to sit you down. Requesting a tea from one of the ladies there as she sat down at a small circular table just slightly to the side to look at you. A grown woman you were, but you knew your mother was looking at you and could replace it with the image of a young Shireen having a bad day in need of quiet away from others.

Not much of a mother to you in a long time, but she had been for Shireen’s entire life and for now that would have to do. Her voice was thankfully low in nature as was yours, “I haven’t seen you that nervous in a crowd since you were a girl.”

Quietly thanking the woman who placed a warm mug in front of you, it was brought just enough to your lips to blow ever so slightly at the steam before wagering a sip. Too hot to taste still, but the heat warmed your blood and sent out the remaining shivers of cold from you. Having another before slowly beginning to take off the cloak around your shoulders and let it drape over the back of your seat as did your mother. Hands still in gloves but felt the heat as they both cupped the side of your mug, “You should have seen me at my wedding. I was so nervous I wasn’t sure I was going to even make it to the Weirwood before passing out.”

Hardly letting out a chuckle, Selyse watched you for another quiet moment. “Celebrations were never quite a tradition in our family.” You knew she wished to ask, but instead found other things to occupy her voice that eased you into things. “The first time you came home from the North, you had asked your father and I, if feasts were supposed to be loud and chaotic. I remember not knowing if you were disappointed we never had ones such as that or not.”

You mustered half a smile, “Likely a bit of both.” She rose an eyebrow in question as you took another sip, “I enjoyed watching the others have such a good time, but I was worried you and father would be mad at me if I participated. Was worried about a lot of things from that first visit, thought if you both knew I’d never be allowed to return.”

Tilting her head in slight amusement with a lighter air on her tongue, “That assumption clearly did not work out in that manner.” Nodding at her, your eyes felt distant. Trying to not see the stares and hear the whispers and you felt your chest tighten again. Leaning forward to you, she lowered her tone with a murmur of your name. “Is there nothing more you can say of that night?”

Hand stopping as it was reaching the liquid to your lips, you sighed and let it drop back down. If the servers milling about were listening, they did a very good job at not showing it. “I told you, I wasn’t even aware I had gotten out of bed, I know even less then what they all saw.” It was silent for a second before you looked down at the table away from her, “It felt as if everyone was speaking about me out there, like everyone was watching and whispering about what happened.”

“No one was doing such a-”

Your tone almost snapped, but it reigned in almost as soon as you opened your mouth. “They were, we both know they were. Everyone had been. I have one nightmare and now my own people look at me as if I’ve lost my mind.”

Your mother was quicker then you it seemed, “You look at me as if I’ve lost mine some days.”

Narrowing your brows for a moment, you relented just as fast in acceptance. “You are following a belief, a faith. I had a dream that made me walk and scream in my sleep. Two very different kinds of insanity, I would say.” Your nails tapped at the mug as your eyes slipped closed as long as you inhaled deeply. “I’ve hardly slept since that night. As if I know falling asleep one night I will have another dream just like it, but maybe this time I’ll do worse then scream.”

Both knowing the answer to it, she put the suggestion forth regardless. “I can speak to Maester Wolkan, essence of nightshade could help you sleep-”

Your tone was sharp as was your eyes, “I’m not about to begin relying on a few drops of poison every night just so I don’t have scary nightmares, mother. Besides, it wouldn’t help how little I’ve eaten either.” All you could see was the bones, those black, charred bones of Hazzea as clear as day and then you’d hear her fading scream and all appetite would leave you. Nothing felt appetizing when such senses invaded your mind.

Leaning into the quiet, only sounds around that of shuffling, bubbling and whatever they were preparing behind you, your mother was more stern then before. “You barley take care of yourself as it is. Always running yourself ragged trying to do everything, you will be able to do that even less if you have no food or sleep in your body.” Trying not to roll your eyes, knowing she was only stating the honest truth. “Dying once has not made you immune from starvation.”

Sighing deeply, you knew she meant well. Taking food for granted was not something she nor your father were uncaring with. “Plenty of books in Winterfell, could always made soup if I let things get that dire.”

The dropping look in Selyse’s face was one you knew she had given Shireen too many times when she got too clever for her own good. “I am trying to get you to care of your well being. Strange events have followed you since your death and they are only getting stranger. You need to be looking out of more then only other people now. Especially if-”

Cutting her off sternly, you didn’t want to hear about this. Not now. It hadn’t been brought up since before that dream and you were beginning to feel a creeping voice in your mind that had been gone since the months leaving Castle Black. Ones that you were too much of a burden, too much of a problem again.

Jon knocks down one problem with you, and another takes it’s place in a matter of days. You should have stayed on Dragonstone with your father, at least you wouldn’t be in Jon’s way thousands of miles apart. Maybe if you got up and left right now, everyone would be too busy to notice you disappear.

It choked your throat and down to your lungs in an ill sensation at the anxiety of, would Jon secretly be grateful once you were gone? He was too kind to tell you to leave his life, he always was. Always placated your burdens as if they didn’t weigh him down horribly. Once afraid you would be dragging Robb into a miserable life married to you, but it seemed he was the wrong wolf you were the constant of issues for.

Silence painful before you sighed, not a sign of strength holding your resolve left in your eyes. “You and father don’t have to worry about this sort of thing.” Softening in your eyes, was an apologetic sorrow that was bright for any to see. “You haven’t had to wake up every single day for months, worrying you are getting in his way. Standing between him and real happiness because you don’t know how else to contain how you feel. I was worried in Castle Black I was ruining his life and now it feels like I’m back to doing just that. What do I even offer him? What as a Queen do I even bring to his cause he could not do himself, better?”

Selyse didn’t have an answer to that, because you did not want one. It was a spiral that begged for others to toss you away in worth or use as you spent a year in a new life being tortured with. More for you had changed in those months then many encountered in a single lifetime.

It hadn’t been sitting there to pressure you, it was almost hidden away so any who wandered in might not have spotted it, but you did. You saw it almost right away and the second you traced your fingers over the fabric you found yourself sitting back on the edge of the bed. Material in hands as you ran over the details. It was clearly made to fit you with detailed accuracy.

Had it been meant as something in your face, likely there would’ve just been people there already to put you in it. Instead it sat alone, in the quiet room for you to contemplate. It would be your choice this time, both of you and somehow that felt more strange then it did the first time. Neither you nor Robb had a say in it, and it was to happen at the end of what turned out to be the start of a nightmare that had yet to end.

Not much of the ceremony did you recall. Were your life to be staked on it you’d have no way of saving yourself if the only rescue was to recite the words you spoke. Did you even breathe? You were a blur walking towards the Weirwood and part of having no choice in the matter made that memory easier to look back on then the willing one you had now.

Women like you weren’t supposed to choose. It wasn’t how it worked, you never grew up expecting you’d have a say in it. The way Cersei Lannister made it sound like you’d be sold off like some broodmare and perhaps for many it was as such. You were lucky it was Robb, more lucky then most highborn women ever would get. But here you were with a choice of freedom and that was more difficult to do.

Coming to terms with having love after Robb was growing a bit better, more time spent considering the truth that he would not want you to be miserable after him, but marriage? Forsaking the name he shared with you and taking that of his brother? Jon came first, but Robb was never less then he was.

It was all so complicated in your mind.

Still now, you could see the hateful eyes in Catelyn, how if you made this choice she would look down at you forever as something more horrid of a word then you’d prefer to think coming from her. A woman who parts of your life acted as a mother, was your mother by marriage in war for three years and ended that life on nothing but good terms. If you chose to do this, she would hate you for eternity.

“I can't tell if you hate it or not.”

Head snapping up, only then realizing you hadn’t even heard Jon enter, or the door close behind him either. Your brows narrowed in question before he gestured down to the material in your hands, an easy breath coming out close to something of a laugh as you shook your head. “On the contrary, it’s eeiry how well you knew what to tell them to make.”

Stepping closer, Jon gave half a smile. His voice low and somewhat quiet as he sat next to you, but a decent foot of space between his body and yours was almost staggering in the quiet. “Almost like I’ve known you most of my life.”

A more genuine grin came about you, looking up to not anything of significance on the stone wall ahead as your tone fell in an amusing monotone. “My father’s known me my whole life and he couldn’t even tell you if I have a favourite food of any kind.”

The lightness in Jon’s voice had you without notice, forming an easy grin on your face even if it didn’t quite match the soft but combating glaze over your eyes. “Easy, you love peppercrab stew, stuffed clams, anything that comes from the sea.”

Muttering a playful in mocking return, “Almost as if I grew up on an island.”

Jon ignored your jest, “And even though you claim you don’t like sweet desserts, you would live off of blueberry tarts if it was possible.” That time he caught the playfully offended look in your eye at being called out, a laugh easier on his lips then it came huffing from yours. “I also know you hate Dornish wine because every highborn in King’s Landing drinks it by the barrel, and that you think serving pigeon pie at weddings is disgusting.”

Your fingertips were tracing along the ornately stitched design, noticing it was almost a seamless blend of what looked like carvings of antlers as they trickled down into outlines of a wolf only noticeable up this close. None but you or him would even be near enough to make out such details but you knew they were intentional. “You would too if you were saw how many dead and bloodied pigeons end up inside those things before they’re cut open.”

Leaning back a bit, his palms braced more against the fur along his bed as Jon kept his eyes on nowhere but you. “Good thing I didn't tell them to make it.” Your head rose up a bit, hands stopping in motion as you looked to nothing once more hesitant in your shoulders, as Jon leaned forward again this time a bit closer as his voice rasped more beside you. “We don’t have to do anything, we can go back out there and just let our people enjoy a good night, but I need you to tell me if you want this or not.”

You could hear Robb clear as day, voice warm and soothing behind you as his hands ran along your arms before giving yourself over to him.

“If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me. We don’t have to do anything, but you need to be honest with me about it.”

He had given you the exact same out, and you didn’t take it then and it ended better then you could’ve imagined for the time you and Robb had with each other. Would taking that opportunity from Jon now be nothing but a regret? Or was otherwise being too selfish?

“Before I married him, I told Robb I was worried he would be trapped in a miserable marriage being with me. But we didn’t get a choice, we had to do it no matter what. But this time, if you marry me, it’ll be my fault if you end up hating your life.” Looking back up to meet his eyes, Jon was closer then before and instead of even entertaining such an idea, he cupped both sides of your face, pulling you up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

Your hands dropping the material into your lap as your hands reached up to press against his chest with your palms flat. It was soft, not teasing but keeping you just on the edge of needy as he would pull away just long enough that you wanted to whine and chase his lips, returning back to you as one of his hands danced back to run his fingers through your hair.

Pressing another innocent one, Jon then pulled back only enough that he could look you in the eye as yours slowly opened again. “You make me happy, and I make you happy. That’s enough. But we don’t have to do this-”

Shaking your head, heart almost so light it could fly from your chest and be lost to the skies hiding above the stone walls. Your hands ran up to gently wind around the back of his neck as you leaned up to kiss him, even a more gentle one then before. Almost just a tender press of lips before you pulled back. “I do, I- I just, my head is so confusing how it feels. One moment I’m sure as any has ever been that I want to be with you, and the next I’m terrified I’m wasting your life and you’ll hate me for it.”

Tracing his nose along the bridge of yours, Jon’s voice was a low rasp, “I suffer through a lot of things I hate, just add one more to the list is all.” If his intent was to make you fight between laughing and rolling your eyes he succeeded. Pulling away from him with a failing to hide grin fighting against him trying to yank you back.

“I only want you to be sure you won’t regret this down the line. Not easy to change your mind about a wife when you’re King.” His thumb running smoothly along your cheek and jaw, nudging your nose with his before capturing your lips once more. Only pulling back enough so your lips brushed his as you spoke, “You’re making it very hard to have a serious discussion, do you know that?”

Kissing you once more, Jon muttered against your lips, “Good.” Before capturing them again, one hand swiftly moving the fabric from your lap off to the side with a small toss blind, before moving you back, hands at your hips to all but toss you to the middle of his bed that time. Eagerly climbing up over you, meeting you with a sweeter kiss then was suitable for how much he just handled you like a rag doll. Both of his hands sat at the sides of your head, his voice deep as his grey eyes shined bright down at you. “Do you need me to prove how sure I am of marrying you? Because it also happens to be the same as showing you what my favourite dessert-

Calling his name indignantly, you laughed while feeling a fluster rise up your chest and into your cheeks instantly, Jon laughing brightly down at you. “Isn’t the man supposed to act a gentleman? Treat the innocent maiden with respect before a wedding?”

Jon trailed his lips easily down your neck, nothing more then greedy kisses to the sensitive skin as he spared you from him marking it with his teeth, muttering into your skin, “Innocent maidens as far as I’m aware, don’t normally let the man take her the way I do you, before the wedding.” He grinned again you tried to move out from under him, only making that embarrassment in you worse as he leaned more so you couldn’t hide from his words.

“If I ask any crew on our journey home if they think you have any innocence left for me to take from you, they'd say yes?” Running his lips down your neck to your collarbones, tone twisting to a deeper husk. “Or did everyone already hear how hard I took you at night? How much you tried to keep quiet but you just can’t stop yourself from sounding so beautiful when you cry out for me,”

Just as Jon shifted, one of his hands moving down along your dress as he reached the skirt already bunched up from his movements did you reach out and snatch his wrist. A playful mischief in his eyes as he pulled back to look down at you again, wanting to laugh at the narrowed look in yours. “Did you and Robb form a secret pact to endlessly embarrass me, because you’re both naturally quite good at it.”

Pushing up more to look down at you again, palms back braced against the furs of his bed, Jon smiled more softly this time. “No, but I do need you to tell me what you actually want to do. We can stay right here, I’ll strip you bare and taste you until the sun sets before I finally fuck you and everything can stay the same.” Leaning down to kiss you once, your hands running along his shoulders and one wrapping behind his neck gently as he looked back at you. “Or, we could do all of that, just a bit later after I’ve married you. But you have to be the one to decide. I’ve wanted to marry you since I was a boy. I made it this many years, I can wait as many more as you need.”

Rarely did this embarrassment extend passed only such a small amount of people, but as you heard the knock on your door did you know it was exactly that. You didn’t have much of other options, and asking felt like a child playing a game of fantasy, but it would be a sad display for you to do it alone. The guard outside the door calling to you, “Ser Davos here to see you, your grace.”

Inhaling deeply as your heart raced, you grabbed a long shall to partially wrap around you almost to hide what you were clearly wearing. “Send him in.”

Walking in, he could tell instantly what you were feeling. Having done mostly everything yourself, you preferred unlike last time, not to have handmaidens fuss over your hair and face, but it also meant you had spend some time now alone with your thoughts. “Your grace,”

Dropping any act of formality right away, your voice was higher in pitch as you also spoke probably too fast to sound proper. “Is it childish of me to ask if I look even halfway decent?”

Davos laughed however, walking in more with a comfort. “I’m not exactly a man with the best sense of dress, especially if you ask my wife, but you look beautiful.” Watching you sigh out as you almost defeated sat down on the edge of the bed, you found little comfort in what now was your former bedroom. Davos watched closely, finding a similar assessment Ned Stark had before him. “Of all the things to make you nervous and this is it.”

Your head made a move to fall into your hands, only to recall you at least had attempted to hide your lack of sleep with some kind of makeup. Leaving them flat on your lap as he sat next to you. “If it’s possible I think I’m even more nervous this time then the first, and this is when I know what I’m getting myself into.”

Looking you over closely, he asked the question on the tip of his tongue that he suspected you were just nervous enough to answer honestly. “Why not tell your father you might be getting married when we left Dragonstone?”

Wanting to shrug you knew that wasn’t the right response. Sighing deeply, your hands wrung together as your head stayed hanging down. “When I married Robb, the only family I had there was Robert. Renly wasn’t there, Shireen wasn’t, my father or mother..I was just shipped off to the North with no one there with me.” The last thing you wanted was to feel this choked up, forcing it down deep inside to not break you, even as it peeked through in a tiny crack of your voice. “Lord Stark gave me away last time. Raised me here almost half my life then, and even when I thought my own father was gone he was still the one I missed. The one I miss now. And I know that makes me sound horrible-”

“It doesn’t.” Looking up at him, your eyes stung red as your heart constricted trying not to feel like such a child at how much you wished Ned Stark was here this time too. Davos though, held not a single ounce of judgment in his face but a comfort only that of a father could give. “I admire your father in many ways, but I’m not blind to the difficult relationship you two have had your whole life. He’s a tough man to get close too, and Lord Stark was father enough to you that when it came down to it, you chose to return to your husband to try and save his life together when everyone else thought you’d go to Stannis.” Leaning forward more to ensure he had your proper attention, “If I can miss your baby sister like she was my own daughter, then you can miss Ned Stark when he was your father by marriage. It’s okay to miss the people we love.”

Nodding, you swallowed harsh to force down those heavy pains in your lungs to the depths. “My father sent me to marry Robb all alone, and then called him a usurper and a thief for leading his own people when they felt like they had nothing. Called me a traitor for siding with the husband he married me to.” Almost lost for a moment, in the memory when Robb had reassured you so gently that if fighting your father was what was to happen, he refused to let you shoulder it alone. “I know you barley knew him, Robb..but you know Jon..”

Davos reached an arm to wrap around your shoulder, glad on the inside at how easily you let him comfortingly pull you into his side. “I do, and I know he loves you more then anyone in this world could love someone. Was quite the grouch when you were in White Harbour because he didn’t know what to do with himself without you.” You huffed a laugh, but moved little else. “It doesn’t matter of these things come for us all in winter, because as long as Jon has you, he has a reason to keep going, to keep fighting back.” He was quiet, hoping you’d listen to him more then only hear him. “I know I’m not Ned Stark, but I’ve known you your whole life, so how about we get ready to give you away before your husband to be just comes looking for you himself.”

Laughing in his side, Davos joined as well. Giving you a moment to collect yourself, you breathed deeply as your heart slowed to something more manageable. “I know you’re only here because of my fathers order, but I’m still really grateful you are Ser Davos,” Your hand reached up to the necklace that you had yet to take off once. “And I know Shireen is too. She didn’t get to be at the last wedding, but thanks to you she will get a front seat this time.”

Pulling you up, you knew he could see the threat of tears wanting to fall and without even a doubt did he pull you into a hug. You couldn’t have known it, but you fell right into it just as Shireen had the day she learned of what happened to you. And he felt that pull of a father just as strongly. Before coming to the door, Davos stopped and turned to you, nodding down to the shall wrapped around you with a pointed stare.

Anxiously you gripped it tighter before exhaling deeply and undoing it. Nervously putting it down on the bed as the ivory dress now was allowed to breathe. “It’s almost unnerving how well Jon knows you, was trying to find the right way to describe it when he wrote back here from Dragonstone. Complaining that he knows what you looked like in his head but hadn’t the life of him to figure out how to describe it.”

You didn’t realize that Davos knew Jon had been thinking about this, and the surprise was shown in your eyes as your lips parted slightly with an unspoken question. “Ended up having to go ask your mother what he should be telling them,” Your eyes widened more as he laughed. You beginning the question of if she knew when he only answered, “Honestly, your grace, I think he was relying on you being a bit oblivious at times. By the time we left harbour you were likely the only one who didn’t know.”

Shaking your head, Davos in a clearly practised manner, held his arm out for you to loop around and you felt none of the awkwardness which your actual father would’ve provided you with. “Thank you for this, Davos, for everything.”

An easy smile came over his at the very faint one you were trying to hide on yours. “Nothing to thank me for, I’m here because I care, not because I was ordered to be. Your father would’ve kept me on Dragonstone had I not been the one to suggest coming back North with you to be his eyes and ears.”

The halls of the castle were cool in the fabric, but it had been made with something warm enough that you were certain at the least would not freeze you to death. “Why?”

“I believe in your father, but I’ve also spent over four years watching him make questionable choices. As far as he’s come, I’ve felt much more useful at you and Jon’s side. Better listeners you two are then Stannis Baratheon if anyone can believe that.” Your laughter echoed through the empty halls as you came to the doors leading to the main court yard, and from there it would be a nothing walk to the godswood where it was all waiting.

Standing by the doors, you inhaled shakily. “All our lives we never thought we’d be able to be together, and now I’m supposed to just walk out there and marry him like it’s easy.” Don’t let your eyes sting you told yourself, not now.

“It is easy, you just walk out there and do whatever it is Northerners do when you pray to a tree.” Both of you almost burst into a heavier laugh at that, swallowing a doubt down with a nod as he prompted you to stand straighter as he did. “Come, time to give that man the one thing that might make actually him happy for once in his life.”

Jon knew Arya would’ve been mad she wasn’t the first person he told. She had seen him kiss you in the stables when he was sure you both were alone, and later came storming into his room with a shove far too strong for a girl her size, angry he didn’t tell her.

Amusingly, she had gotten more angry the more he refused to admit it. Trying not to yell at him when Jon told her sneaking around with a highborn girl wouldn’t be a very respectful way to treat you. Saying you were nothing more then a friend, only to have her huff, turn away from him muttering “I forgot it’s normal to shove your tongue down your friends throats for no reason.”

Giving her a nudge in the back as he snapped back at her, “When you're my age, try go making some and then you’ll find out.” At that point she had thrown something at him, only to get tossed over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more then a pillow to get unceremoniously tossed onto the bed in her own room as she shouted this conversation wasn’t over yet.

But, he knew she was smart enough to realize why he and you were hiding things, and didn’t really bring it up again. Instead she sometimes would end up playing diversion to give you and him time alone without the others pestering you. Arya had always adored you, and while he never confirmed anything to her face they both understood she got what was happening.

Then that damned raven came. The month leading up to their arrival was filled with Jon growing increasingly unhappy, trying his best to placate Robb’s misgivings about what you and him were being forced into. All without giving away how angry he was that Robb was finally getting the very last thing Jon had solely to himself.

It was a little easier once he was already at the wall. Far from direct reminders of you, he had the time to let that heartache simmer, even though he was aware it had not once gone away. Instead he found a life full of other recruits who hated him, an instant contempt in Ser Alliser Thorne who from day one made it his life’s goal to make Jon as miserable as possible. If the knife wounds in his chest spoke anything, he’d say the man did indeed succeed in that endeavour.

Slowly it became a bit easier, learned how to better tune Thorne out when it mattered, and found common ground amongst the other recruits. Then one day, Jon was in the training yard helping teach Grenn a better grasp of the basics when he stopped mid way through and looked behind Jon, “What in seven hells is that?”

While Jon didn’t think much of Samwell Tarly at first, it changed soon. Watching the man stammering through an introduction with nerves worse then yours, only to watch Rast enjoy beating him senseless despite him being on the ground asking for it to stop. The normal thing to do, would be to let it happen and Pyp had even tried to pull Jon back as he moved forward. But it lasted only as long as it took for the man on the ground to yell in pain that he yields.

If Thorne had thought putting Sam with him as his watch partner was to punish him, he underestimated just what kind of person Jon was. It took barley any time standing up there as Sam told him why he was there for Jon to realize it. This was someone who had bravery in his own way, being able to tell him how his father had considered him worthless and would either have him take the black or would kill his own son for not living up to his expectations. He was someone who didn’t deserve to be treated the way his father had, the way Thorne wanted everyone else to treat him as well.

After that, being friends with him was easy. It had been a long time since Jon had met anyone who was just easy to talk to, easy to be friends with. They had been scrubbing down the tables one day, Sam having brought up how the brothers would sneak off to Mole’s Town to see the girls at the brothel and for whatever reason, Sam had the right combination of Jon’s trust that you came into his mind and refused to leave for a second. You were right there, and he couldn’t look away.

Jon hadn’t even so much as said your name since stepping foot outside the Winterfell gates and gods help him did Lord Tyrion ever try. But as he listened to Sam he felt that familiar ill in his chest that he did when riding away from you. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit unfair? Making us take our vows while they sneak off for a little Sally on the side?”

Glancing up to him with a bemused twist on his face, Jon almost mocked him for it, “Sally on the side?”

Relenting a bit, Sam found it in him with no malice to be amused as he was slightly put off by the topic at hand. “It’s silly, isn’t it. What, we can’t defend the Wall unless we’re celibate? It’s absurd.” Jon almost offhandedly spoke, not really thinking of it in the same terms, as he had only ever eyes for one. Once you came along, Jon didn’t really have the energy to care about other girls. Commenting from his own point of view that he didn’t think Sam would’ve been so upset about it.

Feeling bad instantly as Sam dropped his expression a little as if expecting better of him, “Why not? Because I’m fat?” Jon saying no earnestly, and while Sam clearly hadn’t taken Jon in offence coming from him, he suspected this was someone who was used to having his character put up in scrutiny a lot of his life as he found an almost jesting lecture of a tone to him. “I like girls just as much as you do.” A pause in his words as he came down to something more in the world of Sam’s own realism. “They might not like me as much.” Then it came down to a shadowing of insecurity that Jon knew too well on himself. A wish to shrink in on himself and hide way from a world ready to look at him in judgment, but a trust in this room that at least Jon wouldn’t. “I’ve never...been with one...” Glancing up from his work to Jon he tilted his head at him as if in on a truth that didn’t exist. “You’ve probably had hundreds.”

Were Sam not so serious, Jon genuinely might have laughed. Initially thinking to himself if Jon was what Sam thought someone girls would want, introducing him to Robb might just break the remainder of his mind. Whether he even found them attractive or not, not once did the girls around Winterfell or the scatterings coming in and out of Winter Town ever look Jon’s way once when Robb was around.

But, he also found not any reason to lie to him. Jon looking up at Sam with a quiet honesty, “No. As a matter of fact, I’m the same as you.”

Doubt was the first look, then a disbelief as if he must be full of it. “Yeah..I find that very hard to believe.” That was a fair point he contended. There was no denying that girls would look at the two of them and find more of a general majority with a preference to one over the other, but not much of that shallow attributing of looks mattered to Jon.

He didn’t think much of Sam when he first stepped into the training yard, but quickly found a friend that was becoming someone he could genuinely trust. And perhaps, it was that feeling of trust which made Jon fight internally as Sam looked at him. That wonder of, what did it matter?

Jon spent his entire life hiding what he felt for you, because he knew it was never going to be a life he could have outside of fantasy. Six years he would sneak in the shadows with you, and in public he had to always be aware of how close he was getting. Not to get too handsy, not to be too physically playful or affectionate, not to look at you too long when he wasn’t supposed to.

But here? In a frozen exile at the end of the world? What harm would he do to you here by speaking life into the love still agonized in his heart? He took yours here with him, and Jon wondered what it would feel like to talk about it. He never had, denied it to Arya even when he had been caught, but never had he said a word about what you two were to each other.

Sam though, Jon had the feeling that if Sam was trusting Jon not to be judgmental of him, he should trust the same in return. A lightness in his grey eyes washed over as he could still see you as if it were months ago in your last visit to Winterfell, at least your last visit leaving a Baratheon.

“I came very close once.” Sam’s attention perked up, but Jon struggled to find the words to describe without giving away the truth of who you were, and his generalization came off as awkward. “I was alone in a room with a naked girl, but…”

“Didn’t know where to put it?”

Clearly he was amused by how easily Jon snapped his head over to him with a glare, despite how it was most definitely a jest. “I know where to put it.” But he still wasn’t explaining himself well.

Sam trying to prompt him with any details that could paint any picture. “Was she…old and ugly?”

Jon shook his head, voice low as if offended by the sheer idea. “No. No, she was..beautiful. More beautiful of a girl then I had any right to have in my bed.” It tipped on the edge of his tongue, but the moment your name came from Jon’s lips it was as if it all spilled out and he had no sense to contain it. “She’s-she was my best friend. Knew her for almost fifteen years, came to Winterfell to learn under my father but the second I saw her? I don’t know if there was ever a time I wasn’t in love with her.”

He could see Jon wasn’t really here, his physical present but there was sad softness in his eyes that was so distant that he was trapped in a memory. “And you two almost..?”

Nodding, he almost breathed out a laugh. “We had never done much, thought we had all the time in the world. We liked taking everything slow, but we were still each others firsts for everything. Spent six years sneaking around with her behind everyone's backs and finally we thought we were ready. We were alone, I had her in my room and she let me take off all her clothes..”

Many years later from that moment, together in that hot bath after reclaiming Winterfell from the Boltons, Jon had tried guiltily to skirt around the subject when you had innocently asked what he told Sam about you. Considering that when Sam in that moment had tried to discreetly ask about your breasts Jon had looked away for a moment before shaking his head at him. Both of them amused at how clearly there was a bit of a perverse image in Jon’s mind as Sam asked, “That good?”

“Better.” The smile on his face though was still as far away as it was genuine. “More then better, soft, like they were made to fit in my hands perfectly, sensitive too..” Almost laughing to himself at how easily he found even just a simple amusement in teasing that, “Gods she was so sensitive to anywhere I touched her. We never got very far together but with what I did do, sometimes I’d have to kiss her just so the whole castle didn’t hear..”

Coming back around to the point, Jon could still see every part of your nerves as you looked brightly up at him. “We were alone, and I had her naked on my bed, I was nervous but I knew she was too. Could barley convince herself to take my shirt off without my help. But I was hovering over her..and..I couldn’t do it..”

It wasn’t just a simple insecurity in his voice turning then, and Sam was smart enough to pick up on the mood change easily. Asking why he couldn’t, and Jon looked at him with something akin to a bit more pain then Sam expected. “What’s my name?”

“Jon Snow.”

Jon guiding him to an answer that Sam was forming behind his mind, asking him, “And why is my surname Snow?”

It didn’t really clue in his mind at that time, but Sam seemed almost hesitant to say it. As if about to call him something that to Sam, didn’t seem very nice. He was someone who was likely ridiculed and looked down on his whole life, and perhaps the idea of Jon experiencing that in a different way felt strange to him. But he knew what answer Jon was waiting for. “Because…you’re a bastard from the North.”

Come the present it had been a long time since he had felt that pain strongly, but in that conversation, in the memory as he hovered over you on his bed? Jon knew exactly the fear he had felt looking down at you, despite how much he truly wanted you. And it came out in that level of pain he felt.

“I never met my mother. My father wouldn’t even tell me her name. I don’t know if she’s living or dead, I don’t know if she’s a noblewoman, or a fisherman’s wife, or a whore. That day though..it should have been easy. I had my girl all to myself, no clothes on, but all I could think was, what if I got her pregnant? And she has a child, another bastard named Snow?” Swallowing down something that flashed in a self hatred in his eyes, Jons voice lowered almost just to himself, despite Sam hearing it easy. “I couldn’t ruin my own child’s life just because I was in love with a girl I wasn’t allowed to have.”

As Sam looked at him, once more Jon wondered, what was the point in hiding it? He said your first name, but in what world would telling Samwell Tarly in Castle Black have such a backlash that it would destroy the marriage you now had. “I don’t think I understand, you’re father’s still a Lord. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to be with her unless she was someone -”

When it was out there, it was out there and clearly whatever common girl Sam was imagining was nothing close to the truth. “Unless she was someone in the royal family?” The wide look on Sam’s eye was missed as Jon clenched his jaw now looking back to the table. But the strain in his hand refused to let him distract by going back to work. “Someone like King Robert’s niece. A beautiful Baratheon girl who spent her life in the Crownlands and the capitol. Around all the other royals and nobles, sitting on the small council because on top of everything else, she’s so smart too.”

He exhaled deeply, “A girl like her would never be allowed to marry a bastard. And if I slept with her, and I got her pregnant? I’d have been the one to ruin her life. Our child would grow up just another Snow being looked down at for existing..” Trying to shake off that heavy weight on his shoulders, Jon tried to look back up more casually at Sam but it wasn’t really a facade either bought. “That’s not a good life for a child.”

But then the gears in Sam’s head begun to turn, begun to connect the dots to come to the conclusion Jon had still been dancing around. “King Robert’s niece, but that would mean she..”

It wasn’t anger or even jealousy, just defeat in Jon’s voice. “It means she’s the girl who just got married to my brother. To Robb.” It wasn’t pity in Sam’s eyes but Jon felt sick over it all the same. It would be later that they would talk more, that Sam had come to learn about Jon’s family in general and clearly no matter the sore spot there, he didn’t hate Robb for it, not even close. But it didn’t mean as the two men stood there it didn’t still hurt.

In the quiet that followed, Sam did what he did best. There was nothing left to say that Jon wanted to share, and there was no use in keeping him feeling as tense as he was. Leaning against the other side of the table, Sam found light jest in his eyes as he said, “So..you didn’t know where to put it.”

Maybe the memory wouldn’t have been such a sour one, if the rough housing as a result of being made fun of wasn’t interrupted by the despising contempt of Ser Alliser Thorne. Ironic in a sense Jon thought, that the conversation he walked in on, was about you. Was about the woman he would murder Jon for going to rescue, was about the woman who would behead the man himself for said crime.

As he stood by the Weirwood, his eyes finding Ghost sitting a respectable distance away to not spook the crowd of spectators, Jon couldn’t help but think about Arya. About how she would’ve been endlessly offended that Jon had told Sam the truth of you before he had told his own sister, and as he considered the truth, that he now knew without a doubt, her direwolf Nymeria was still alive and well out there? He wondered if in another world where Arya was still alive, how mad she would then also be to not even be at Jon’s own wedding, to you of all people.

But in truth, Jon was still hoping he wasn’t going to wake up from this as a mocking nightmare. He had long given up the idea of marrying you. The very fear he told Sam of accidentally giving you a child came right from knowing a Snow wasn’t going to be allowed to come close to marrying you.

Yet now he stood as the last of the Stark’s, even if only in his blood. The one his people called King in the North and you were willingly setting aside both strong family names given to you by birth and blood to be down at his level. He told you you didn’t have to, but you refused his entire life to let him think you saw him being a Snow as any indicator of how you looked at him.

He was scared of having a child with you, a bastard named Snow. Only now, that was exactly what your children’s name would be, but without a single shred of the prejudice against being a bastard. His children being called Snow, would merely be seen as the King’s children. Not the King’s bastards, not the bastard boy’s own bastard children.

Just his and your children alone.

“Am I allowed to say it’s weird seeing you here?” Jon smirked a little at the voice, he felt weird standing there. Turning to look properly at Theon, they both knew it hadn’t stopped being strange that the only ones left were the three of you. The ones always odd out of the family, two of which never belonging to it by any sort of blood in the first place.

As the two men stood out in the cool air, Northerners around much more quiet and respectable then when the crowd had been full of Southerners and the royal company. The snow around them in winter and no one but the North that mattered here to witness it. It felt weird, but it also was right. Jon’s voice low as he looked between Theon and the woods as if you’d appear from nowhere. “My last night in Winterfell, I stood on the other side and had to be the one watching her marry Robb. I only hope Robb is okay with me taking his spot with her this time.”

Theon however, was only calm with no doubt as he shook his head. “He’d be grateful it was you.” As Jon looked at him, eyes shining with something like hope for that to be true he elaborated. “It started to feel weird the longer you weren’t around. The three of us would stand there and we all knew you were missing. He didn’t talk about it much when she was there, had enough on her mind with her father. But Robb would say he at the least wished you could’ve been there just so she had someone to talk to. Hated that the only thing she knew to occupy herself was work more, and Robb could never find the time to force her to relax on her own.“

Jon couldn’t tell if he wanted to smile or let his heart drop. He would wonder did you miss Robb for this, prefer him to Jon for that and yet Theon was standing there telling him Robb wasn’t far from the opposite side of that dilemma. “Trusting me with his Kingdom is a far cry from saying he’d want me marrying his wife.”

Theon however, felt something of confidence in a fate he knew was worse. You and him both knew that Robb died hating him, died thinking he was a traitor who killed Bran and Rickon. There was little that could top such an ending for the two of them. Almost as if rapidly to change the subject between them he moved to ask Jon, “What do you reckon is running through her mind?”

It was quiet, but the exhale was there and it was shaky. “Knowing her nerves, probably deciding whether or not she thinks she’s making a mistake.” Jaw clenching slightly, his voice lowered so there was no chance another heard. “Spends too much time worrying about if she’s a burden, can’t think of another way to make her realize it’s the opposite then this.’ He was quiet, of all people Jon had certainly never said anything near it to Theon. “But I’ve always wanted to marry her. I’ve never not been in love with her, my whole life I knew I’d have to give her up. Used to spend hours as a boy wondering how to convince my father to let me marry her one day. ”

Nodding, he was glad Theon found a way to ease that tension still sat in his throat. Looking away from him with a shrug, “Well I’ll force you two to do this if I have too. Sick of watching you both be shit at doing anything that would make you happy.” Jon raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if he was on more the edge of somewhat offended or amused that he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Don’t give me that look. You being King in the North doesn’t mean I can’t tell you when you’re only being miserable because you’re too stubborn.”

Something akin to part of a laugh found Jon, both of them looking away in jest. It was a strange dynamic carving itself out now with him, he was always closer to Robb and then all he knew of him was how he betrayed Jon’s family. Theon had cemented himself as someone that Jon couldn’t stand by and yet he brought you to Castle Black when Jon failed too, and you both arrived together with a bond that left behind the betrayal that once had you and Robb calling for his execution.

But Robb was gone, and Jon wasn’t. Moving forward between them was slow, but every day it got a little easier.

In the quiet as wind calmly blew around in the snowy landscape of the godswood, Jon only hoped that if Robb was watching, he found peace that he was trying to mend the bridges that Robb died before he could finish building. The North was their kingdom, their people. Jon wasn’t the King that Robb was and he couldn’t try to be. But he hoped he was putting the work Robb died for back together enough to make his brother proud. He also couldn’t help but hope that everything he’s done, and now marrying you?

Jon hoped that his father was proud of him too in his own way.

“I’d rather face a thousand armed men then get married in front of all those people.”

You had never seen an inch of war when Ned Stark had told you that, and yet now you fully understood exactly what he was talking about. Having eyes on you wasn’t the nerve wracking aspect, you could do that in a sense of duty but this was more spectacle. Eyes for entertainment in it’s own manner and that was not what you were used too. You were not the one calling for attention.

The sight around the godswood was almost the opposite of the last time. Instead of a bright sun still prevailing lush green surrounding it with the small pond sitting by it reflecting off, it instead was that of cold. Yet, it almost felt more fitting for Winterfell as a whole. The pond partially frozen over on one end a snow banked the edges of the other.

Leading all around the snow was so white that it blended into the Weirwood and the red of it’s leaves stuck out as if it were the only colour to truly exist. The sky was fading from the gold peak of evening and found itself in shades of blue turning darker by each passing hour that had not taken away from how illuminated it all fell onto.

The last it seemed as if too many people were there, too many eyes and so much of it was ones that would turn around and stab you and the Starks in the back. Yet this time, even as the ones attending were people you both knew and trusted the right people weren’t there. There wasn’t enough.

Many were missing that deserved to be here, and their absence made the whole affair feel on the edge of bittersweet. It had taken blood and death to get here, but you two had risen from that darkness when none else had. It almost however felt identical as the moment anything came into view did ragged nerves deafen and blind you to everything but the pounding of your heart.

No decorations, no pomp, just the North and the godswood as it always was. And this time, no eyes you needed to hide from or avoid, yet still, they made you nervous all the same.

Ser Davos had adjusted his hold from light to something firmer and more comforting, sensing the tension as eyes all fell upon you. None could hear from such a distance, but he leaned more to you with a soothing “Don’t look at them, look at him. They aren’t here.”

You barley reacted, but he could tell by the small exhale of air from your lungs that you tried to ease down, relaxing more. The air was a bit stinging on your skin, but perhaps that helped you feel so drastically in the moment.

In the sights of the Old Gods, little needed to be presided over in terms of vows for marriage. Seen as a bonding of two people and less like an agreement upon two parties that requires much guidance, witnesses. No septon leading both to the end as if the marrying parties need to be hand held along the way. It was common amongst the Faith of the Seven, septons would do all the work, all the speaking when in truth there was little which needed to be said.

This wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the couple.

Faces that now you fought beside watched you both, others more proud then admiring. You dared not look at Maege Mormont. She'd had a mouthful to say to you about how you left for Dragonstone separate, and came back to a marriage.

No fanfare for the Southerners watching as the only ones who were there needed none for their sake, and the rest all knew this had nothing to do with them as people or even the North. Your mother, while not with the Old Gods, didn't follow the Seven anymore, and Ser Davos didn't care.

The Starks had been raised with the Old Gods and the new, as Catelyn grew up under the Seven. They all varied in who followed what stronger, but there was no question that the one who felt no connection to the new Gods was Jon. Catelyn was not his mother, he had no obligation to follow the Seven except for doing as such so Robb didn’t do it alone. But the older he got the more he let go of it.

You could remember once, jesting to him and Lord Stark that they both looked as if they were worried about bursting into flames if they set foot in the sept. Perhaps it was fair no one was left in Winterfell who preyed to the Seven. As much work as Jon still was putting in to rebuild what of Winterfell had been left in ruins, the Sept built specifically for the woman who shut him out his whole life did not quite reach the top of his priority lists.

Jon needed nothing but the Old Gods in his life and thus as he stood by the Weirwood it was that connection that mattered only. Without a shadow of doubt, Jon Snow was of the North.

“Don’t look for me in the ceremony. I’ll be there, but don’t look for me. You’re going to be Robb’s now, and I want you to be okay with accepting that.”

You listened to him that day. Knowing your future lied with The Young Wolf you were marrying and had to let Jon take that part of your heart away with him, and so you didn’t glance to him once. Now though, there was no one to look at, no one to hide your gaze from. This time, The White Wolf was the only one there with anything that mattered, and there was no use in hiding.

The dark fur around his shoulders made him look strong and fierce, sat broadly over his shoulders as the leathers across the rest of him were tied between greys, and browns and shades of black that made him stand out against the snowing land around him. You couldn’t pay attention to the way he looked at you, you already had to focus to keep your heart steady. You couldn’t handle how easily Jon painted thousands of words in the shine of his eyes when looking at you.

But you were handed over to him, a gloved hand reached out to pull you gently to him and truth be told there could have been yells and screams of war right beside you and you’d hear none of it. Just you two, in a place that you both grew up thinking was the one thing you’d never be allowed to have with one another. The freedom to be each others.

As Jon’s fur cloak was draped over your shoulders, the nerves melted into the ground and left you the longer his bright eyes refused to leave you. Still with your hand held in his, he carefully guided you to kneel before the carved face of the Weirwood in the cold of the snow and hadn’t let go as both of you closed your eyes as the wind blew around you.

You had prayed once to find a true life and love with Robb, and the Old Gods had granted you that. This time however? That love was still real, and it was real towards Robb just as strong and pure as it was towards Jon. You didn’t need to pray for love or a future that would bring a marriage peace. Not this time.

As the wind blew cold through your hair and dancing in a sting across your cheeks, you slowly opened your eyes, turning to look up to the carved face of the Weirwood. A quiet moment passed as you both stayed knelt there, lives so much more complicated then the last time you had been here and yet the nerves which had you shy and meek with Robb didn’t find it’s way back this time once more.

Jon no longer felt the need to hide what it was between you, and he would not pretend it was otherwise ever again. He was a man who felt things very deeply and very raw, and having to hide that all from people seeing the way he wished to be with you was a step too far in this new life. You couldn’t help but hope and pray that you were still good enough for him.

The gloved hand still wrapped on the cold ground with yours tightened to grab your focus back as if he could sense your mind drifting away. Flickering your eyes to the side, you could see his grey eyes shined so bright that they could light up a pitch black night sky. Standing with ease himself, one hand still holding yours to lead you up, and his other gently steadied you at your waist as for a moment you looked to one another.

Only one final thing was left, and the last was innocent and small as Robb sensed your ragged nerves, but Jon looked deep into your eyes with a softness that could drown you. And you knew it was only love he wanted to show these people he felt for you.

Taking a step close as you turned to look up more at him, the hand in yours leaving to gently cup the side of your cheek, thumb running along the skin. Just as your palms innocently found a resting place flat on his torso, Jon’s other hand left your waist.

Cupping your other cheek and lower to your jaw so he could tilt your head up to fit him. Closing the gap between you, it was not a shy peck but something needing with passion radiating from it. Lasting a few moments more than appropriate, but he kissed you with the same energy as if alone, almost sending you a step backward had your hands not been held tight against his chest. Only pulling back when your arms slid up more to his neck and the temptation to deepen it was found in him.

If the crowd had made a sound, neither of you heard it. His thumb still running over your cheek as he pulled from your lips to look at you before a genuine smile fell over him. Almost breathing out a laugh along with how brightly he smiled and you hadn’t even realized a teary eyed one came over you.

A moment of weakness, Jon leaned in for one more kiss. One a bit deeper as the sounds of a proud and amused crowd filtered in finally. But just as Jon pulled from your lips, gently tracing the bridge of your nose with his, he turned partially to look at his people. A playfulness in his tone that many had not heard from him so easily since having all been reunited under a new King in the North. The other hand on your jaw slipped down to your hip as he turned to them.

It was a bit love sick, but you hadn’t looked away from him yet. You found no desire to, just looking at a man too handsome for his own good that now gifted you his own name as you stood not just a King and Queen, but man and wife.

“It’s been a tough few months, and I think I speak for us all when I say it’ll do us all good to enjoy a celebration even just for tonight.” You only at the last second noticed a tinge of mischief in his voice as you failed to also catch the arm on your hip sliding down over the skirt of your dress. Just as Jon’s voice raised to a playfully louder projection, Jon knelt quickly to wrap an arm under you and in an instant swept you right off the ground as if weighing nothing. “Now, let’s get this one inside before she freezes.”

The surprise of the action, had entirely caught you off guard, barley able to wrap your arms around the back of his neck in a laughing protest “Jon-”

A wedding of Northerners indeed, all of them laughing in approval and goading into their King’s playfulness despite you almost wanting to hide in his neck in an amused fluster at Jon picking you up in his arms in such a grandiose display. Certainly not what the rigidness of the Seven usually called for.

Ser Davos looked a mix of proud and amused at both, before sharing a glance with Selyse with a tilt of his head as if to tell her to ease up in any disapproval of the people's entertainment. This certainly hadn't been how Stannis treated her at their own wedding that was for certain.

But, without saying a word of it to any, Selyse did feel a smile as she gracefully followed the crowd near the back. She had never met the man Stannis married you off too, and many times regretted the things she said about him when you all stood on opposite sides of a war.

She never met Robb Stark, but she knew Jon Snow and she could certainly say, she's never seen anyone pull such an easy smile and laugh out of you then he was doing now.

It only for a moment, had slammed into your mind as you stood there. You were fine, and it hadn't come into your thoughts up until music begun to play. It sounded not a single thing like that sound, but all the same your eyes darted to those playing it. As if waiting to see when they would brandish their blood soaked truth. Heart beginning to race in that moment your lungs tightened to something you could choke on, in a second did a whisper hit your ears but you wanted to whip around to see him nowhere near you. Despite the cracking of his voice speaking loudly in the hall.

“Your Grace, I feel I’ve been remiss in my duties. I’ve given you meat and wine and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. Afterall, my King is long overdue a wedding gift for he and his Queen.”

Barley for a moment did you stand there on your own, but the hall was no longer the warm comfort stones of Winterfell, instead the stuffy air of The Twins as blood rushed from your veins to pool in your stomach and mouth as the world faded to muffles. The sounds as if they had been underwater, your vision so blurry you barley knew the world outside Robb in front of you.

Blue eyes haunted you and so did the powerful voice which would be the last thing you though you would hear. As if speaking into your ear, looking over the hall of people enjoying themselves as you stood back amidst a nightmare. You hadn't considered what was said in that moment, your mind was fading so fast you had perhaps mere seconds left and it meant nothing as Robb fell beside you.

“Jaime Lannister sends his regards.”

It echoed, and echoed in your mind. You heard it again and again right until the truth of music came back into sounds as a warm figure came to your side. Just as a hand tilted your chin to look over at him, you found Jon's grey eyes in a warm concern and a silent question. Looking back to the hall, you were in Winterfell and you could breathe once more.

Instead of any answer, you forced the echo out of your ears as you cupped his jaw gently and leaned up to press your lips gently to his.

Public affection as such was not Jon's preference, nor did you wish to be one to initiate it, but if just for tonight here was the only place it made sense. If you judged by the way Jon's hand found your waist to pull you a bit more into him, he agreed if just for tonight.

It was easy to laugh and speak that night. None of the girlish fears plagued what was to come, and none of it too was buried under the new feat of having it with one you never thought you would have. Last time there was hardly any food to speak of that sat in your stomach and only wine to stop the nerves from overtaking, even though they did anyways. Robb had at once point placed a gentle hand on your thigh whispering that you should try and at least at something.

Now, it was not at all the same. You knew what you were in for in terms of what came after such a reception and none of it was unknown. Food and ale were shared and the longer they were consumed the more rowdy the Northerners became, much of the night spent speaking with many as Jon would ensure you stayed right beside him with an arm pulling you into his side if you strayed too far.

The way in which some joked with you, did Jon's hand on your waist hidden by his fur still over you, slip down to your hip in a tight grip had you wondering just as you did over four years ago.

What exactly did this wolf have hiding in his desires?

When the crowd had noticed the newly weds had snuck off, they had no idea when you both had done so. Only some with the vague memory and ideas, that such a practice seemed common amongst the Stark men on their wedding nights. The tradition is fun when it is anyone but their own wife.

It was almost strange that it felt normal. As your eyes were trained out of the window, the new moon overhead on the clear night as Winterfell felt alive and the woods just beyond were as calm as they looked serene. Crackling of a fire increased as more wood was added to it before that warmth came and enveloped your back.

Jon's hands weren't greedy as he slipped his fur from your shoulders, letting it sit to the side as he pressed his chest into your back, one arm slipping around your front and holding your hand firmly over your stomach, the other running up and down your waist as he silently looked over you from his angle.

Neither of you rushed anything when he brought you back to his room, Jon's gentle rasp murmuring in your ear to give him a moment to stoke the flames that had gone low in his absence, leading to you finding the open window. His room was always on the colder side, more air blowing through that chilled things right down but in exchange Jon was diligent about keeping the fire properly tended too. Keeping warm in the bed was not an option for so long, only the easy to fake innocence of spending time on the fur before his fireplace was where Jon would explore you in early years together.

Both of you for the time were content looking out the window, Jon resting the side of his head against yours as you partially turned to nuzzle a bit into the feeling. Your voice was quiet as you could feel two scenarios swirling as images in your mind. “Jon, I know it won't change anything or why I'm even thinking of it..but, before everything, before Robb..I'm sorry I wasn't ready for you that day.”

His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, but your eyes looking wide at the outside winter but your voice was quiet and restrained. “There's nothing to be sorry for. I wasn't ready either.”

But you shook your head, throat a bit choking as you spoke. “I know, but I- we promised that day, that we would wait for the other to be ready. To have our first proper time with each other..but I didn't..” Jon tried to follow your thoughts but it went somewhere he didn't expect you to go on such a night. “I promised I'd wait for you, but I didn't. My first time was with Robb.”

You swallowed heavy, no regret was in that night together but the other image in your mind was something you thought you knew what it was, until he had yelled at you otherwise. Your voice quiet, “I'm sorry it meant that you..” You trailed off, but a distant and strained low tone in Jon finished as the hand around your front pulled you closer.

“It meant my first was Ygritte.”

He said nothing of it, but you felt the stiffness behind you. Your hand running along his arm as you moved to push the soft material up over his wrists to lightly trail over his skin. “No one deserves that to be their first. It should've been with someone who actually cared about you.”

Feeling him hid his face somewhat in your neck before turning to press a gentle kiss to the skin he found there, his voice was heavier then he wanted you to pick up on. Something painful he wanted to hold back from you noticing. “Don't apologize for what she did. None of that was your fault, you married Robb. You're first time was right to be with him.” Trying to protest that he didn't deserve what happened to him but he cut you off. A more firm and confident kiss pressed to your neck this time.

Silent for a moment, but what he said next had made you firmly pause. “I saw you, in the middle of..I saw you.” The hand over your front slowly made it's way to your scar as your breath hitched. His voice low in your ear, “You were telling Robb you were pregnant. I saw you both, could hear you together, and I kept seeing a child that looked like mine. Had your eyes, but looked like me. I kept seeing it, and it's the only thing that got me through that night.”

Finally turning in his arms, Jon settled them along your waist both as you reached up to cup his cheeks, leaning up to press a single kiss to his lips. Pulling back his grey eyes were painted over with a tenderness that was brewing with something close to adoration, and he found exactly the same in yours to his. Speaking in a whisper as you ran your thumb along the facial hair trailing his jawline. “I can't take away what she did, but now we have all the time in the world to let me make it up to you.”

Leaning forward more, you could feel his breath on your skin, his hands smoothing down to your hips running them over your dress a bit more sensually. “You've more then made it up to me, and I don't want her to have any part between you and me. She's gone, we're here and you're my wife..” As he tried finishing his thought, a breathless laugh left him weakly as he looked you over, a shine melting down to a genuine smile as he look at you. “My wife, you're really my wife..”

Nodding, your smile was close to something that threatened to swallow you whole, the ingenuity in his face that was so incredibly rare. “Your wife. Baratheon, then a Stark, and now a Snow.” He shook his head with a half hearted laugh trying to act as a scolding disapproval but not a hint of malice was in your words and it clearly struck something deep in his heart over the ease of it on you. “Hey, you were the one who claimed it sounded pretty attached to my name.”

Invading your space, Jon ran his lips again over your neck making a sensitive path to just below your ear before rasping into it, “And you're the one who said I was biased about you.”

Your hands trailed to grasp at his shoulders, ever so slowly moving to take his leathers and armour off as you tried not to shiver. “That was because you were trying to pretend as if men wanted to get my attention when we both know that's not true.”

Chuckling, Jon didn't stop you from slowly undressing him. Knowing the moment he took your dress off he wouldn't stop, and you almost shivered more at the thought. Your early time with Jon was so soft and innocent, going from that to Robb's dominating and filthy nature had been something close to a culture shock at the time. But now, it was finding out the darker part of Jon's mind may have been locked away more then you once thought.

The leather armours and tunic now off, left in a softer grey undershirt he snatched your hands when you went to pull it off. Looking down at you with a darkening in his eyes. “I could name fifty men out there who would do anything for a chance to fuck you.” An embarrassed fluster ran over your nerves so fast that Jon even picked up on it. Stepping forward with your hands still in his as they now sat at your waist, him pushing you backward. A small smirk at you trying to modestly shake your head, “So if I brought Tormund in here you're going to tell me he wouldn't jump at the first chance he gets to be inside you?”

Gods be good, Jon and Robb were both just as sadistic about embarrassing you, and you were pretty sure they both got off on it. Everything about the woman you tried to be all your life, and the two wolves with the love of your heart managed to be smug that they knew how to make you fluster in an instant. “He..we don't, it's only banter Jon I promi-”

Pushing you back further his eyes darkened more and his voice dropping more to a husk every time he spoke, “That wasn't an accusation, darling. Only a fact.” Just when you found a voice to say something playful back to try and gain any upper hand, Jon let go of your hands just as he shoved your back into the stone wall, pressing you into it as he rested both hands on either side of your head.

A knee pushing your legs apart as much as he could from under your dress but he refused to take it off of you. Just enough space to slide his foot in the under of your skirt to keep you more trapped on most sides to escape him. In juxtaposition to his rough tone, Jon gently ran his nose along yours before nudging it playfully. Your hands reaching up as he spoke, letting his curls fall loose. “If I wasn't here, he'd be the one to spend all night fucking you.”

Fingers raking through his curls, stopping gently to readjust when they'd reach too wild of a tangle to be gentle with, each time your nails scratched his scalp as he swallowed harshly enough you could hear as he did so. “I only want you, Jon. I promise, you alone.” He exhaled heavily, the fact that his mind was tied between his lust and such an innocent way you had spoken that with had him stop his teasing.

Trying to reign himself in to not scare you off, but you continued to run your hands through his hair and for a moment of weakness, Jon let his head fall into your neck with a grunt at how good it felt. Not even pulling or tugging, just raking through his curls as you felt his chest rising and falling a lot to keep himself collected. He tried murmuring your name, but the soft tone was light and airy close to your ear, now that held no seductive, playful intention despite how pressed into the wall he had you.

Jon pulled back a bit more from you. One hand running through your hair as he looked at you with a quiet in them. “I try to be gentle, I want to be gentle with you.” A conflict once more sat in the grey as you let one hand run over his hair back, while the other rested close to his cheek. “When I would imagine what our first time would've been, I always thought it would be slow. Take our time, never imagined me being so rough with you.”

This time, you grabbed his hands making your way both to his shirt as you covered his to pull it up and off, letting the material drop wherever it landed without a care. Reaching himself, you still in the ivory dress Jon had made specifically for you, knelt down carefully. Your palms braced on his thighs as you looked up with eyes shining wide at him. “And yet I love you all the same.”

Not waiting much for him to respond, you moved to take everything else off, leaving only his pants before you looked back up at him. The black ink seeped into his gaze again, one hand ran down the back of your hair while he looked at you with a silent, dark sternness as he nodded down at you.

A shaky exhale left at just how brooding yet confident he seemed as he looked down to you, slowly pulling them down his legs until there was nothing left on him. Your hands returned to his thighs, flat against his skin as you were so close to his cock. Already it looked thick, and painfully in need like he had been hard for quite some during throughout the night before even getting to his room.

But you didn't presume, and you waited for Jon as he moved to gently gather enough of your hair in a large hand, holding you steady without controlling your every movement. Enough that you knew he intentionally made sure none of it would fall in your face. Him putting his mouth on you made you nervous, but somehow as you knelt there, you knew he was struggling to let you do it to him.

His voice husking in a deep gruffness, “This is what we're going to do,” Your posture straitening up instinctively at the low authority he spoke with. “I'll let you take me like this tonight, but you have to promise me that you're not just doing it beacuse you think you should.” Your brows rose in a surprised question as he let his free hand trail across your jaw and lips. “I don't expect this, and I don't want you thinking I expect this. I'll let you have me in your mouth tonight, but you need to promise me you'll let me take care of you properly from now on.”

Your heart raced, something strange at how wanted to be the one to taste you, without any return when you'd give it willingly as much as he wanted. “Can we not negotiate equal terms, your grace?”

Jaw clenching, you also felt how much he was trying not to tighten his grip too much with his handful of your hair. “I want to take care of you, the only thing I want you to do when we're together is to feel good. Help me make you feel good, and I'm happy.” Your name came from his lips softly, “Are we alright with that?”

Genuinely watching with a true question before relaxing as you nodded. “I am.” Seeing there was something else on your mind he waited patiently as if his cock wasn't tinged a bit red there was so much blood rushing into it. “Is it still alright if I..” Your fingertips braced on his thighs a bit more as you bit your lip a bit nervously as if he'd say no. But he nodded silently for you to continue.

Gentle licks to the tip of his cock before you slowly made your way down his length, licks and pressing your lips all down him like a kiss. Down one side and then the other as Jon's stomach tensed at the sensation. One proper kiss to the tip before you slowly took him into your mouth, cock sliding easily in your mouth from how well you already licked his length but you didn't stop until you made it half way down.

Letting him slide in and out of your mouth half way, a hum around his cock too as you sucked. You wanted to savour it, savour how heavy he felt on your tongue and how much your jaw stung from the stretch so early.

Your eyes were closed as you made another small noise in your throat like a humming whine when you went deeper. Took more of him, half way to over two thirds of the way before you hadn't had enough air, by the time you could suck up and down his entire size up to the black coarse hair around the base. Your heart racing at the panic of him so deep but you just whined instead. Jon's cock soaked in your warm mouth, you hating coming off of him for too long, wanting to keep him in your mouth properly, always making him feel good, always feeling him twitch and throb at each deep suck.

Your fingers tensed against his thighs, and with not much room to go behind you at the wall, Jon readjusted his grip on your hair before ever so slowly moving. Giving you enough time to relax your throat, as he guided your head to bob along his cock at a steady, slow rate. Pulling you nearly off him before sinking so deep in your throat you couldn't take anything else and slowly right back. Never giving you a second to catch up but he also never pushed you anything close to rough or demanding.

Throbbing in your mouth, Jon felt that sensation almost too soon. Worked up almost from the very moment he had seen you looking at the very dress still adorning you. Him bare with his cock being soaked by your warm mouth as you almost lost yourself to the feeling. The beautiful ivory dress showing nothing even risque. Just modest, long and covering like you were most comfortable with but the image of such a sight mixed with such a filthy act drew him close.

He told you he'd let you have this, but his insides burned and the feeling too out of control as the desire to shove you down his entire cocks length roughly, over took him, did he suddenly pull you off him entirely. The sight of you gasping for air as a mix of your saliva and what of his seed already coated your tongue visible from the sudden movement.

Looking up at him with a question, “Jon?” But as Jon helped you stand he barley gave you any time to form more of a sentence before he grabbed both of your cheeks. Pulling you into him as your hands wrapped around his waist to steady yourself. Shoving you hard against the stone wall Jon pressed himself tightly against you, one hand slipping to your jaw to tilt your head up, making it far easier for him to bite your bottom lip and slide his tongue into your own mouth.

Your hands pressed flat against his chest, the jagged feelings of his scars sending a distressing feeling in your mind but Jon wouldn't part from your lips long enough to let you linger on the thought. Licking and brushing his tongue against yours as he felt you start to writhe against him.

Trying to call his name between the only breaths be let you have, Jon pulled back with a heaving pant and seething in his teeth as he looked you over. A full foot back from you as he eyed you down as if you had nothing before he knelt just enough to grab the skirt of your dress. Pulling it up and up until he could toss it onto the ground, yanking the fabric hiding your soaked core from him down enough that it tore as he slipped it down your legs.

A hand on your hip almost prompting you to step out of them as Jon looked you over once more, were it not you one might have mistaken his look for unimpressed but you knew all to opposite. The darkness in his eyes as he grabbed one of your hands, guiding it to his cock. You looked small trying to wrap around how thick he was, even moreso as his hand stayed, guiding you to stroke his cock with tight, quick and somewhat rough strokes.

Your eyes flickering up to his, Jon nodded in bright approval before letting you stroke him on your own, one hand cupping your cheek and the other around the back of your head, threading through your hair and somewhat grabbing the back of your neck. Jon once more captured your lips, biting your bottom one every time you let his kiss distract you. His breathing as he kissed you picked up, demanding you let him deepen the kiss as the sounds were almost loud against the fire crackling on the other side of the room.

Your veins felt too hot, the room cold with the window beside you wide open but you could feel sweat forming as if your entire person burned in Jon's presence. His grip on you tightened as he shook in your touch, cock twitching in your hand.

Just as he groaned a mumbling of your name into your mouth, Jon send the hand on your cheek down to wrap around your hand on his cock again. Moving along with your strokes as he came, painting your lower stomach where your own scar was with his seed and on your mound. Grunting out as he moved to bite at your neck as the last of him covered your skin.

You almost felt too overwhelmed, like Jon's mind was racing far quicker then you could keep up. Finally moving your hand from his cock only to grasp at your wrist, and slamming it up in his hold against the wall beside your head as he stared at you. A small ask of his name as he stared you up and down.

Pulling away suddenly Jon did outstretch a hand to guide you to the other side of the room. Turning to stand somewhat behind you running all along the skin of yours he could reach. “Our first time was almost right here.” Leaning to rasp in your ear, “Will my wife let me fuck her in our bed?” Nodding, Jon kissed the side of your head in response. Pushing you forward, “Lay down for me.”

Braced up on your palms as one knee bent slightly as you lay on the fur, Jon just looked at you with a shake of his head to drive a thought out of his mind it appeared. Slowly he almost appeared to approach you on the bed like a predator, prowling towards what he wants. Climbing up on top of you though, Jon left a lot of that on the ground outside of here.

Kissing you gently, no tongue, no teeth, your hands innocently running along his shoulders and back as Jon held himself up with one hand and caressed the skin of your waist with the other. Nudging your nose with his in between each kiss, he pulled back to look at you, that intense greed not so close to the surface. Jon moved to partially lay beside you but leaned over enough so you were on your back still looking up at him, your legs intertwined with the other. His hand tracing your cheek as he leaned to kiss you softly again.

Your hand ran along his shoulder and up through his curls. “I love you.”

The smile was almost boyish that came over his face. A brightness back in the greys of his eyes as he muttered back, “I love you, more then anything. A year ago I still thought you were dead, now you're my wife.” A small huffing laugh like he was simply in disbelief.

“And you're King in the North. Finally home where you belong.”

Almost a bashful look came over him, your grin pulling a incredulous one from Jon as he rolled his eyes playfully. “Big home for just the two of us.” Your heart lightened but Jon just looked at you with an adoration as he felt lost in his own mind. “If we're lucky, this time next year maybe we'll have at least one more to add.”

Both of you laughing at how easily you slipped such a dry, “Oh, just one? Changed your mind?”

Jon looked at you once more before leaning down to kiss you, marking his way down your neck and collarbones, as you sighed out high pitched. Jon climbed back to rest between your legs, stopping his mouth at your breasts. Greedily grasping rough handfuls in both hands he groped the skin as his lips kissed around them before jumping with a bite to your nipples. Pulling a gasp and your legs failing to close now as they were on either side of his body.

You could feel the spark inside of you growing, you core feeling more like matches striking at it trying to ignite but still overwhelmed as you hissed at each rougher tug of his teeth. Just as you cried out at one did Jon relent, soothing your breasts in more of a caress before moving to pull your legs open more to fit his broad upper body.

Slinking his hand through his own seed covering your mound, Jon dragged two fingers through it before landing on your clit, rubbing tight, harsh circles into it that had your head arching back. Your core burned the touch and yet you couldn't decide if you needed more of less, but you trusted Jon to give you exactly what you needed. Rubbing rough and fast your orgasm snuck up on you suddenly, a tightening in your stomach that had you cry out.

Legs around Jon shaking just at the peak of you lungs stopping in desperation of on overwhelming pleasure swimming through you, Jon tugged your hips up to his mouth. Licking sloppily at your clit and down flat along your folds. Running that pattern up and down as if smearing what wetness you granted him to soak all over you, before he would taste it all for himself. Sucking at your clit making you jump with a surprised whine of an over stimulation.

But Jon licked and sucked more at your clit, holding your legs and moving them over his shoulders before grasping tight at your hips, as he ran his tongue just as his fingers did but he kept soaking you. Licking, a nibble of his teeth that had your back arching in sparks of need only to have him sooth it with a kiss before licking gently back down to your cunt where you were soaked.

His tongue running inside you, your breathe hitching even more as if no air would come to you, but Jon's hands were gentle and his tongue was precise. Knowing what made your insides twist like a burning coil, your hand gently running through his hair and none of it held the intensity of just before neither of you rushing towards an end this time.

Despite the cold air from the window blowing in you felt a thousand leagues warmer then you should have between the fire beside, the fur under and Jon between your legs you could feel sweat dampening your hair, stuttering breaths as you felt the coil twisting inside as Jon licked deep inside of you along a sensitive wall that almost made you feel something swell up like tears.

His hands on your hips tighter before finally yanking you to his mouth, soaking you as much as you were him. One hand changing paths, Jon reached up grasped at your breast, groping as the hand not in his hair held onto it, Jon licking sloppily along your cunt to your clit and back before burying his mouth inside you, twisting the hand on your breast to hold yours resting now in the space between them.

That burning pleasure tightened and tightened until the coil snapped and you were blinded by the light that had you arching your back and crying out Jon's name. Growling into your cunt more as your hands tightened in his hair until you were shaking from the sparks of pleasure still hitting you after. Rising up, Jon used that hand with yours to push it against the bed, keeping your fingers interlocked as he used his other hand now to align his cock with your soaking core.

Looking down at you, your eyes wide and red from tears begging to fall as you heaved for proper air Jon gave you one kiss before slowly sinking inside you. Not a single instance of resistance as his cock slid as deep inside of you as you could take him, clenching soaked, tight and warm around him he already throbbed inside of you with a groan. Burying his face in your neck as he slowly pulled out only enough to get halfway before needing to seek you out again.

Whatever show the open window let sounds out free to be heard with, was non existent in the reality of your own ears. Jon slowly thrusting in and out of you, face buried in your neck as the sounds from you were weak cries that you couldn't spare the energy to muster enough for. Only music for Jon it was what he could hear of how wet you were around him.

His other hand reaching up grab yours, and push the same down just on the other side of your head fingers intertwined as he kissed you. Tongue asking for gentle permission across your lips before brushing against yours, his kiss as sensually slow as his cock sliding in and out of you.

Pulling now out to almost completely outside of you and right back to as deep as you could get. His hands held yours tightly as his kiss grew more needy, a bit deeper and urgent as you clenched around him. His cock dragging along such a sensitive wall you were almost embarrassed it was causing you to soak him so much more.

Legs shaking around him, Jon slowly fucked right along that wall until you cried out against his lips, a beg for air and reprieve neither of which was granted to you. Fucking you slowly, until Jon had to start thrusting harder to get as deep when he had enough. Grunting he let go of your hands and snatched you up, surprising you as he flipped you both so he lay on his back.

You now more perched up in his lap, looking down at him your hands braced on his chest as you suddenly turned very flustered at the angle he was looking at you like. Lungs paused, not normally a position you found yourself in, but Jon's eye were bright and adoring as he looked up at you.

Finding your hips he guided you to hover back over his cock, your nervous eyes finding him as he husked out, “It's alright, darling. You're doing so well,” His grip slowly helping you sink down on his cock but from this angle he was deeper then ever, seated so fully inside of you if he came this deep inside you, you didn't know how you wouldn't find yourself with child in the morning. Groaning himself, Jons head flew back against the pillow as his eyes closed. Hands never leaving you, guiding you to move up and down his cock at his own strength and his own pace.

Moving you so that you were dragged along that sensitive wall against him as your eyes sealed closed with a stuttering breath. Airy voice as your nails dug into his chest as you moved slowly along with his hands moving you up and down. “You-fuck, Jon you feel so good, so, so good inside of me please..”

But Jon didn't speed you up or let you speed up. Just keeping you on a slow, overwhelming pace that had you feel every single inch of him every wet slide inside you. Dragging you along for his own ride that had your muscles burning and tingling, a fire amongst the wetness Jon sunk his cock inside.

A whine clawed it's way from your throat, begging his name but your eyes sealed closed trying to catch your breath with each thrust inside. Sitting up suddenly, Jon shifted you both so you were straddling his lap more, as one of his arms wrapped around behind you to keep you steady against him, the other holding onto your hip as he begun to move you a little harder against his cock.

Your hands reached for him, winding behind the back of his neck and up into his curls as finally the sounds of the room begun to slap together more as you moved with him bouncing on his cock with a more raw need. Tight around his neck, Jon took the arm behind your back and grasped at one of your breasts, tugging and twisting your nipple as you kissed him.

By each second you lips were exploring one another, Jon moved you harder up and down on his cock. A bigger yank to pull you onto him as you moved just as eagerly as the pace increased in speed. A steady sound smacking of your skin together and your cries grow more to quiet whines that stuttered with every single bounce on his cock.

Tugging somewhat at his hair, made Jon fuck up into you a little harder each time you did as he moved from your breast to keep your lips to his, a hand at the back of your head not that you wanted to go anywhere else. Let the fire of his desire burn through you until nothing was left but what you could offer his lips and his cock.

Faster and rougher, using both hands, yanked your hips up and down on his cock as the sound grew louder in volume and tempo. Holding onto one another tightly Jon felt you seize up in his arms the coarse hair around the base of his cock raw as it rubbed against your clit each time and just as your orgasm washed through you was it mixed with the hot seed spilling deep inside you. Balancing the other out as your legs almost widened around your straddling more almost desperate to feel such hot cum was tearing through you but kissing Jon meant you wanted no parting words over it.

But then he kept fucking you, kept bouncing you on his cock at the same speed and roughness. Instead of easing you back up he dove back in, the wetness graced his ears as music better then anything someone could come up with. Letting go of your lips, Jon looked up at your eyes, his own blown out and pitch black, now both his hands on and guiding your hips still. “Fuck, should never leave.” His voice a deep rasp, “Should stay like this together for good, keep you right here with me until I know I've given you a child..”

A faint moan came from your mouth as you felt that burn of desire again and Jon swallowed your cries into his kiss until you could compose a sentence.“Anything to make you happy..I promise...”

Nodding, he whispered up at you, “Then we stay here, right in our bed, however long it takes..” Your orgasm slipped past your notice as he was shallowly thrusting deep, seizing in his touch and around his cock before Jon groaned your name out too, spilling deep inside you again and yet he still was hard.

Kept fucking you, as you both wrapped your arms around the other as you felt tears for the pleasure setting you on fire only screaming for Jon, the world outside of him did not exist.

Once or twice you rested, Jon keeping you on your side more as he would gently move to tip a drink of water gently down for you, keep you with the right energy, but it wouldn't last. Jon would flip you once more onto your back as he took you more times then he or you could count.

For once, neither of you had any real dream of sorts and as you stayed wrapped up in each others close arms facing one another, Jon pulled you into his chest. Neither of you also had noticed that you both only fell asleep mere hours before the sun rose.

You fell into a slumber with no real thought, cunt burning and aching from Jon's cock, stomach thighs anything else painted with whatever cum you couldn't take deep. Your mind was safe and settled that night in Jon's arms, and Jon had no dreams to haunt him the same.

The only peace left in the brewing storms of the world at least was found in your bed, in Jon's arms.

[esther-dot]

"I had bad dreams," Shireen told him. "About the dragons. They were coming to eat me."-ACOK(Prologue).

"Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died."- TWOW.

Both Shireen and Teora had bad dreams about dragons. Apparently Dany having dragon dreams means they are heroes.

Dreaming of dragons always seems to be a bad thing! We not only have the little girls' nightmares, we have all the Targs who dreamed of them because they wanted them:

"I see them in my dreams, Sam. I see a red star bleeding in the sky. I still remember red. I see their shadows on the snow, hear the crack of leathern wings, feel their hot breath. My brothers dreamed of dragons too, and the dreams killed them, every one. Sam, we tremble on the cusp of half-remembered prophecies, of wonders and terrors that no man now living could hope to comprehend . . . or . . ." (AFFC, Samwell III)

And in both versions of dragon dreams, it's negative/ominous. Knowing what will befall Shireen, your quotes hit even harder.

I was trying to guess as to why the fandom doesn't worry about the warnings in quotes like this, and I suppose, initially, when Dany had her dragon dreams, we're entirely sympathetic to the desire because of Viserys' abuse. That makes it easy to miss the transition from the idea that dragons would protect a little girl (Dany) to being an object of fear for little girls and eventually killing one (Hazzea). It lulls fans into viewing them as one thing before revealing them for what they truly are:

"Are you deaf, fool?" Reznak mo Reznak demanded of the man. "Did you not hear my pronouncement? See my factors on the morrow, and you shall be paid for your sheep." "Reznak," Ser Barristan said quietly, "hold your tongue and open your eyes. Those are no sheepbones." No, Dany thought, those are the bones of a child. (ADWD, Daenerys I)

And of course, that evolution of Dany from a little girl needing protection into the one with the dragon who kills little girls, from the mother of people to the mother of dragons, that tells us that her dragon dreams will lead to devastation for countless others:

Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

and

No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. (ADWD, Daenerys, VIII)

and

"Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …" Dany could not recall the child's name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. "I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons." (ADWD, Daenerys X)

And I suspect, the idea is that the dragons (fire and blood) will lead to her own demise as well.

[valyrianfreehold]

do you have any thoughts about the objectification of dragons, treating them as mere weapons when they’re still living breathing creatures etc

First and foremost I want to start this with the fact that dragons are not real and I don’t want to get into discourse about things like police dogs. (Police dogs are bad)

In this setting dragons were literally created for the purpose of combat but on the other hand I wouldn’t really call them domesticated you know? We see firsthand in Dany chapters that left to their own devices dragons will eat anything when not kept contained. In FB prior to the creation of the dragon pit dragons were largely left to their own devices and I highly doubt when they weren’t close to their rider they were off indulging in a strictly four legged diet. What is a peasant going to say or do when a family member gets picked off by royal property? The sad story of Hazzea and Drogon is definitely not a unique one.

Left to their own devices dragons will just as happily kill and eat each other as they would any human or sheep. We see that with Sunfyre and the Cannibal. And those two dragons and their actions are giant freaking allegories/metaphors for kingship and power. Like you simply cannot analyze dragons in any way without acknowledging this. Even Barth’s observation of dragons having mutable gender has more meaning than just biological fact.

Dragons ARE weapons. And while we have plenty of examples of riders who don’t use their dragons for combat we never are given any example of a dragon not totally gung-ho for a fight. I think it fits thematically as much as it does logically that dragons love combat because it was what they were created to do.

When it comes to normal wild animals, it’s simply not efficient to be always on the lookout for a chance to fight. When any animal does come to blows, there is a heavily weighted decision to do so from the instigator. Domesticated animals can be bred to be aggressive and get joy from aggression. War horses, for an easy relevant example weren’t made to be docile. But this all sort of circles back to the question of whether dragons are domesticated despite their origin. They can be tamed, sure, but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous or unpredictable. Syrax still killed her rider’s son for trying to mount her. But it’s not like dragons don’t show restraint, they’re not off devouring every human they see the minute they’re hungry.

Idk it’s a difficult but interesting question to answer because you can only apply so much objective logic to a fantastical creature created by blood magic for the sole purpose of violence and written as an allegory or metaphor for power. It’s a question that Dany asks herself in some shape or form when pondering legacy and I’m very curious to see what conclusions she’ll draw especially after the killer cliffhanger we’ve been left with for over a decade.

I personally think that dragons in this setting are made to consume and destroy and riding them into battle in of itself was not cruel towards them. We do have examples of dragons that never saw human combat (Dreamfyre and Cannibal come to mind) and Silverwing’s story is an interesting one. She survived the Dance and like Cannibal just faded from history.

Tl;dr If they were suddenly struck by sentience I don’t think they’d raise much objection to being asked if they wanted to fight. Great. We are now entering the Paarthunax dilemma!!! Ifykyk.

[thaliajoy-blog]

Finally, Mother of Monsters 🩸 is finished ✨

Once again, do admire the details !

Like Daenerys' eyes spelling "fear" with Valyrian glyphs, or the red stars of her tiara.

Lightning, death, and blooming afterwards ;

Missandei wearing butterflies & a version of the "eye of Daenerys" (per my headcanon 😁).

Also simply the fact that their respective headwears are inspired my some from the movie Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind (again ! 😁), Dany's headwear being inspired by that of princess Kushana (and Missandei by the headwears of the Valley's little girls).

[horizon-verizon]

It’s the contrast between Rhaenyra and Dany that stands out to me.  The thing that defines Dany the most is that she cares deeply about others that she puts their interests and safety above her own personal desires, whereas Rhaenyra cares mainly about herself even if it means trampling the common people in the process. It is rather striking that Dany does everything in her power to bring peace to Mereen, even sacrificing her ambition to rule Westeros and her personal happiness by marrying a man she does not want in hopes that this would stop the bloodshed in the streets and spare her people. Compare and contrast to Rhaenyra blatant rejection of peace as symbolized by Corlys Velaryon’s suggestions of war-ending efforts for the sake of her personal vengeance. It is very clear that ruling is mainly a responsibility and duty to the people in Dany’s eyes, but for Rhaenyra, it is very much about her rights and what she is owed, even if that means sacrificing her people for it.

The points of contrast only continue to pile up on close examination of both narratives. Dany cares about her brother despite his sadistic and abusive behavior towards her and tries to save him to the very end; Rhaenyra wanted her 10-year-old brother “questioned sharply” in an effort to cover up her own affair. Dany cares about children, from the ones savaged by the slavers to make a point to her highborn hostages that she refuses to execute to poor little Hazzea to Missandei; Rhaenyra started a manhunt for her nephew and niece and was all too ready to scapegoat Addam Velaryon and Nettles. Granted, Dany commits or condones acts like torturing the wineseller’s daughters but even then, the basis of her actions is a far cry from Rhaenyra’s, who had no qualms about having an innocent man seized, executed and fed to her dragon for opposing her and who freely made use of torturers in trying to locate Aegon II and his children. At her most cruel, Dany’s thoughts still showed her remorse when she had to confront the reality of her orders in the form of the slowly dying masters, and her motives were not simply about personal revenge, though it is an element. In contrast, Rhaenyra doubled down on her cruelty to the very end, and her pursuit of personal vengeance only contributed to prolonging the war. To put it simply, Dany is a savior and liberator while Rhaenyra was a tyrant.

*EDITED POST* (10/16/23)

Probably responding to this post.

A)

that you are thinking mainly about "contrasts" but contrasts cannot exist without making similarities when we are trying to analyze a text. Just because the characters are very different, doesn't mean we can't draw any parallels or even see some character traits and explain why/how they manifest differently. I already said as much as to the process of comparing/contrasting things to see what role they play in the narratives' themes and events in the post anon refers to, linked above:

"Comparisons" do not have to mean "they are exactly alike or share many traits", it can refer to that specific process of getting information itself. "Comparison" can be a shortening of "qualitative comparative analysis". "Compare" as in I put these characters side by side, make a Venn Diagram in my mind, and identify what similarities and differences they have.

B)

Mainly because I know that people are criticizing Rhaenyra's character by using Dany while they do not really do the same for other Targ women because Rhaenyra does not go out of her way to provide for smallfolk (neither did Rhaena or Visenya, btw, and these are celebrated apart from the easily identifiable misogynist's most misogynist criticisms). Visenya may have stopped from killing the Vale kid, but she's not really out here trying to make lives better or smallfolk exactly as her sister and Alysanne have.

And my thing, if you read my posts well, was that Rhaenyra became a tyrant in the setting of misogyny--she would have been a so-so ruler, not a tyrant, if she was left alone. I already said Dany was her moral and political superior. SEVERAL TIMES! Nevertheless, Rhaenyra is Dany's ancestor as well as narratively how the in-world should look at Dany, her purpose, and the Targ dynasty's progression ANd both have to deal with being the first to-be woman ruler of a huge realm/the misogyny that will come with that even with them affected/approaching this problem differently.

That Rhaenyra grew up a princess like how most princesses behave and then develop self-determination doesn't negate the misogyny. Plus the arguments that how she was "always" either an amoral or incompetent ruler tend to be misogynist and/or have a double standard.

The contrast doesn't negate the purposes of their stories and how the women are connected to dragons, the decline of female power for male power, and fertility. This is the point of the kind of "comparison" and "likeness" that anon is describing. Dany herself is a very good, altruistic person who really a few Targs measure up to in that specific sense, and yet was targeted for being a woman looking for power. Nearly killed many times. Without Dany's cleverness, compassion, and intuition (as most people do not possess), that should tell us that the misogyny Rhaenyra faces is just as devastating as feminists have been saying. Misogyny doesn't care about morality, it tries to make itself the "morality".

EDIT (8/21/23)

THIS is a great post by @mononijikayu about medieval queens, female rulers, the history of how women in leadership positions were made and seen as threats to the very structure of social "order", and contextualizing Rhaenyra thru Empress Matilda. I didn't even know about Matilda's husband being comparable to Rhaneyra's Daemon! PLZ READ!!!!

Excerpt:

just as much, along with these fictitious portrayals, more lies are depicted. these women are considered vixens that cause havoc to men by shifting them into desires and danger. through the written word, we see how women are cast in roles of villains in men’s lives. it is because by their conclusive thoughts, women are the only creatures that are able to turn ‘good honorable men’ into despicable creatures who do shameful, deplorable acts for the sake of women’s pleasures. 

[...]

it is within this narrative that ancient chroniclers declare that women were in fact the doom of men. if they were not able to control the dangers posed by the wiles of women, then the foundations of the mighty society they had built would be up in flames. 

[...]

as i mentioned, these factors of community are written down and preserved. and with that, the example of the ancients were the foundations by which medieval society built itself. the same concepts continued to cause the same issue within society and that was the exclusion of women from participating in the bigger picture of community and state, much so with governing states in their own right—without judgment or disapproval. 

EDIT (8/22/23)

Daenerys and Rhaenyra also share asserting the monarchial privilege and right to rule as women in a patriarchal world, much less the territory they are seeking to rule. And both are coming from a place of usurpation, claiming back power or safety (albeit in different ways and degrees) that was taken from them.

Rhaenyra's fall from living as a princess (even with all the mistreatment being subtler) has its sociopolitical privileges. Simultaneously, the power she would have inherited as an heir apparent, to become a Queen in her own right is taken from her despite its legal transfer and her fall spells the decline and fall of dragons/Targ power. Dany's rise to power from a place of consistent victimhood and her subsequent bringing the dragons back spells the rebirth of the Targ legacy while making her own unique one (out of the old, something new and better). Even with GRRM writing Dany before Rhaenyra, he conceived Dany as the peak of a former great house that nonetheless had its failures of morality or awareness and care towards subjects (accountability) along with their shining glorious deeds or still-important desires to reshape Westeros for than sake of ambition (rather than compassion).

For Dany to be "special", the ones before her had to have qualities she does not even while sharing some things that are actually reconfigured in Dany (ambition, but ambition to help others as opposed to just legacy). The Targs (some members) are not different from other feudal houses for their desire for glory or ambition or recognition of brilliance and competence, they just have dragons and have a better understanding of where and ability to practice autonomy...at least before Aegon IV's generation.

Therefore, two things: the Targs are both (actual & perceived) atypical and typical nobles/royals because of their social positions and history even before the Conquest due to their magical ties to their dragons and struggles to both maintain power simultaneously (which kinda has always put them in contention with the very subjects they ruled and their customs/perceptions of personhood). AND looking in-world and the actual narrative/timeline that GRRM wrote for Dany, still has her ancestors' determination and pride of being a Targ, at the very Allah, to assert herself for power even if it is for and different purpose and she has anthetical methods and ways of rethinking what "duty" means.

[jozor-johai]

just saw Boy and the Heron and thinking about Hazzea…. but minor spoilers ahead for The Boy and the Heron if you want to remain spoiler free!!

But there’s a scene where the warawara, being unborn souls and therefore representative of an impossible innocence, on their path to ascend to the world above and become born as children, are attacked and begin to be killed. Then someone comes to the rescue, and firebombs the attackers, driving them off — but in the process, the rescuer’s fire kills the warawara too. The movie immediately asks the question of whether that’s worth it, and doesn’t really give an answer. Was the rescuer in the wrong for using fire when it would kill the warawara, too? Or is it better because in the end, *most* of the warawara are saved, even the very same means that saved some outright killed others?

and i’m just thinking it’s interesting that GRRM poses he exact same question with such similar means in ADWD using Dany’s dragons and Hazzea. The dragons—wielding fire, no less, so similar in motif as well—are the very means that Dany uses to free the slaves in Slaver’s Bay and, abstractly, protect the future of innocents who live there… but those very same dragons also kill those same innocents indiscriminately, as seen in the first chapter with Hazzea. And it feels like Dany spends the rest of the book prompting us to ask a similar question. Is it worth innocent casualties if it ultimately means killing the “real” aggressors?

Dany— like Mahito— seems so far to have the attitude that it’s not worth it, that she would sooner keep her dragons chained. The older, more practical character in the movie had the opposite attitude— Kiriko says it is worth it, that some innocent deaths are worth the survival of those remaining. IMO I think Dany is going to adopt that attitude in TWOW and come back with fire and blood to cut the war short and keep the remaining slaves free. It will be interesting to see, though, of course.

I don’t think GRRM intends to give us an “answer” either, per se, but it was interesting to see another old man pose a similar issue.

[greenbloods]

i guess in the end im just glad that lancel is taken seriously by the narrative, and that time and time again george takes the hopes and sorrows of side characters as seriously as main characters. whether it's lancel or penny or eroeh or hazzea or the miller's boys, the one thing that is punished by the arc of the story time and again is the belief that certain people matter more than others

re: the discussion about karma in asoiaf, i think it's so fascinating that one of the things that damns cersei in the end is her relationship with lancel. lancel is so constantly treated as a joke by the lannister kids in the earlier books, as an unimportant person, that it would have been easy for george to push him out of the narrative as soon as he outlasted his usefulness after the battle of blackwater bay. but the narrative cares about lancel, cares about his emotional state, about his victimization. it doesnt treat the fact that he was exploited by cersei as a vulnerable 16 year old as a joke like the other characters do.

the fact that lancel turns to the faith of the seven as a way to make sense of his trauma falls in line with how aeron and mel do the same for their own griefs, and the way that theon seems to turn to the old gods in the godswood after his own treatment--the physical descriptions of lancel and theon are strikingly similar. lancel and aeron and theon all seem to be aged severely by their trauma (while mel is the opposite, appearing youthful despite being the oldest living character of them all)

[atopvisenyashill]

“Stark was a traitor who met a traitor’s end.” “Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.” “Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?” “Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.” “Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …” The word caught in her throat. Hazzea, she thought, and suddenly she heard herself say, “I have to see the pit,” in a voice as small as a child’s whisper. 

she's always this close to actually understanding something but of course the chapter ends with "if they are monsters then so am i" just once again....completely unable and unwilling to see the nuance in what happened during the rebellion and what got her family ousted, because acknowledging that nuance would mean admitting that the dragons are too dangerous to keep around people, and that maybe this quest she's on is not one of justice but a useless crusade against nothing.

[agentrouka-blog]

"He found himself remembering tales he had first heard as a child at Casterly Rock, of mad Lady Lothston who bathed in tubs of blood and presided over feasts of human flesh within these very walls."- Jaime(AFFC III).

"I have heard it said that the silver queen feeds them with the flesh of infants while she herself bathes in the blood of virgin girls and takes a different lover every night."- Tyrion(ADWD VII)."

I don't think it's a coincidence that rumours about Mad Danelle Lothson and Dany are similar.

Regarding the Lothston sigil:

She had a cheerful manner, but when Brienne showed her the shield her face went dark. "My old ma used to say that giant bats flew out from Harrenhal on moonless nights, to carry bad children to Mad Danelle for her cookpots. Sometimes I'd hear them scrabbling at the shutters." She sucked her teeth a moment, thoughtful. "What goes in its place?" (AFFC, Brienne II)

Hmmm...

"It were the black one," the man said, in a Ghiscari growl, "the winged shadow. He come down from the sky and … and …" No. Dany shivered. No, no, oh no. (ADWD, Daenerys I)

Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. Unless her father lied. He might have lied. No one had seen the dragon but him.  (ADWD, Daenerys II)

Was she a bad child, I wonder.