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The walls of Winterfell and the people within them are cold and unforgiving.
This realization is something Daenerys takes to heart. For she is meant to be their ruler, and a good ruler is supposed to be beloved by the people. She cannot be like her father. She is no Mad King.
Despite the chaos of the preparations for war, she tries her best to garner favor with the lords and common folk. She sends Missandei out to deliver bread and warm blankets to the poor in baskets adorned with the Targaryen emblem so that they know exactly which ruler they have to thank for those goods. Missandei assures Dany that she only hears nothing but positive words in gratefulness and adoration for her. This relieves her, but she had always known that the common folk would be easy to sway into her favor. Their minds are ruled by hunger and cold, and they will say anything to ensure that there is a solution to their problem. The real challenge, has been the Lords.
The Lords staunchly deny her, her rightful place. When Daenerys first arrived in Winterfell, smiling proudly besides Jon as he announced his wish to bend the knee, the chaos that unfolded made the smile slip off her lips in a blink of an eye. The Lords sneered and jeered, spitting insults with no qualm. “Dragon Lover”, “Mad Queen” and “Traitor” were popular insults that echoed around the hall. Daenerys had looked at Jon, hoping he would force some sense into their minds, but he was at a loss, his dark eyes lowered, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.
It was the lady of Winterfell who had silenced the crowd as she stood from her place. Jon Snow’s half-sister could not look more different from him with cold blue eyes and auburn plaits. Dany had yet to speak with her. Lady Stark had not been at the greeting party when they first arrived, but she knew Jon had gone to speak with her that night. He had not come back to her chambers, like she had expected, but it was understandable. He was back home after a long while, and if he wanted to spend time with his family, then how could she speak against that?
“My lords,” Lady Stark’s voice was measured. “There is a war brewing outside of our walls, let us not have one brewing inside our walls as well.”
“Tell the bastard traitor that!” Some man spat out in the crowd. Dany watched as Jon’s hands tightened into white-knuckled fists.
Lady Stark stayed composed, but a hardness flickered into her eyes. “I understand your ire, my Lords. Northern independence is what my brother Robb, fought and died for. So many of your own family fought alongside him and sacrificed so much. But, I beg you to understand that our king has not betrayed us. He only wishes to unite our defenses against the Long Night. You have seen proof of what is out there, you know how fearsome it will be, and we cannot fight that alone.”
A young girl stood up imperiously. She could not have been more than one and ten, but she was seated among the lords. “With all due respect, Your Grace,” she nodded towards Jon Snow, “Alliances are a thing of war. Assistance from good rulers, can come without requiring deference.” The girl’s words were dripping with acid, and it was clear from how her black eyes fixated on Daenerys, who the words were meant for. The Lords around her murmured their agreement and more insults were hissed.
Fury surged deep within Daenerys. She would have burned them all if she could, but she restrained herself for Jon Snow’s sake.
Jon Snow spoke, addressing the younger Lady. “Lady Mormont, my decision has not been an easy one. But, again, as Sansa has stated, I have made this decision with the North’s well-being and needs at the forefront of my mind.”
The girl’s brow rose, impetuously. “Truly? I would say you acted contrary to our needs and desires. We proclaimed you, a bastard son, our King in the North. You have given that right away to a foreigner queen, when that right was not yours to begin with. Lady Stark has done excellently in your absence. If you do not want to be king, then she is our choice. Eddard Stark’s trueborn daughter shall rule us in your stead, not the Dragon Queen.” The Lords around her mutter their assent.
Daenerys stared stonily ahead at the Lords, wishing with all her might that Drogon would swoop down and cave in the rooftop. Their king had abdicated to her, and yet they ignore his wishes and instead defer to his sister!
Lady Stark sighed and sat back down, sharing a pointed look with Jon Snow. “I am flattered, Lady Mormont. But, we should not be squabbling about who wears a crown when there is a war to fight. I can think of no better person to lead us in the Long Night than Jon. He led us bravely to victory against the Bolton army and he will do once more with your support.”
“He cannot have our support, if he wishes to abdicate.” It was a gray-haired lord this time, with a trident embroidered on the front of his shirt. “The throne is empty, and we want you, Lady Stark, to sit on it.”
“Hear, hear!” The Lords called. There was a growing din, as the Lords grew emboldened by each other.
“You are the trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark. The right to the throne belongs to you and only you.” The gray-haired Lord knelt and suddenly, the entire room had followed suit. Cheers of ‘The Queen of the North’ filled the room with a deafening roar and Lady Stark looked on, wide-eyed in a daze.
Daenerys could not contain her rage. It was all an affront to her birthright. She twisted around to face Jon Snow, her violet eyes aflame, “Do something!” she hissed.
“I-I cannot.” He mumbled, scrubbing his beard in exasperation. “I told you, the Northern folk are stubborn, loyal to their own.” “It is best to accept their wishes for now, so as not to lose their favor.” Jon murmured. “We can re-negotiate once we are in private with Sansa.”
He is a perfect coward. Daario, Drogo, or even Jorah would have fought for her honor. They killed for her, and this man cannot even speak against his younger sister for her. Daenerys turned away, burning with resentment.
Her hand, Tyrion, is no better than Jon. She unleashes her fury at the Northern Lords upon him and is only met with a chagrined expression. “It was to be expected, I suppose.” He sips his wine.
“Expected?” Her voice raises a good octave. “This is not what should be happening. Their king has abdicated to me.”
“Jon warned you before he bent the knee, we knew this would not be easy. Especially given the tumultuous history between the Starks and the Targaryens. It is best to do as we have been doing. We cannot take the North, not now. The Lords are staunchly loyal to the Starks. We must wait until the end of the war. They will see you astride your dragon and how you fight to protect them. No house will be able to deny you your throne, then.”
“Or I could burn them all in their sleep.” She mutters under her breath. “They would rather have that Stark girl as their queen. She looks pretty in her furs, but what does she know about matters of war.”
Tyrion raises his eyebrows, “Sansa Stark is quite the clever girl. It’s no miracle she’s survived this long, I assure you.”
“Oh? Would you also rather have her as your queen?” Dany snaps.
“Your grace,” The imp replies in a measured tone. “I only meant to advise not to underestimate the Starks. The lone wolf died, but the pack survived. It would bode well for us not to make an enemy of the pack.”
Daenerys turns up her nose, “A dragon has no need for a couple of wolves.”
Tyrion simply takes another sip of his wine. His silence only serves to fuel her anger.
The next week, she receives a servant who brings a message from ‘Queen’ Sansa Stark who requests an audience with her in her solar.
She arrives, strategically dressed in one of her finer gowns, a deep plum silk that brings out the violet in her eyes. A silver dragon snakes around her neck and comes to rest at her collarbones. She will not cow in front of the Stark girl, she is Daenerys Targaryen, mother of dragons, breaker of chains.
“Your grace.” The Stark girl greets with an elegant, practiced curtsey. She is dressed in a black velvet gown embroidered with twin, silver wolves stitched into the waist. It isn’t as eye-catching as the gowns that Daenerys owns, but the Dragon Queen has to admit that this style suits her demure elegance.
Daenerys nods curtly. “Lady Stark.”
The serving girl notices Daenerys’s failure to address her queen properly and coughs nervously.
“Jeyne, please serve Queen Daenerys some wine.” Lady Stark instructs. The servant girl nods hurriedly, and rushes to do as told. Once she does, she scurries out of the room, leaving the two women alone. Daenerys studies Sansa Stark with a critical eye. This is her first time seeing Jon Snow’s half-sister up close. She is a pretty girl, there is no denying it, but there is a distinct hardness in her eyes, and a tiredness in the lines of her face.
“How are you finding Winterfell?”
Daenerys suppresses a snort. She despise small talk such as this, but she indulges the girl. “It is cold. I will be glad when this war is over, so I can return home to Dragonstone.” She says truthfully.
Lady Stark nods, pulling her auburn plait over her shoulder. “And what are your plans for your kingdom?”
She wonders what Lady Stark means to accomplish by asking such a foolish question. “I plan to unite the kingdoms, of course, including the North. This goal of mine has been no secret.”
“An idealistic goal.” Lady Stark replies. “Wouldn’t you say?” There’s a challenge there and Daenerys is damned if she backs down now.
“You don’t think it’s possible.” It’s not a question. Of course, the Stark girl could not understand. She had been sitting pretty in the North while her brother ventured out to seek the other rulers and hunt past the wall for wights. She did not understand the need for the unity of the kingdoms, she was a simple girl who only knew of the North.
Lady Stark’s lips thinned into a tight smile. “Jon may have told you this, but the Northerners are loyal to their own. Some of the Lords would sooner die than accept a Southern ruler. I don’t mean any disrespect when I say this, Your Grace, this is simply what history has shown.”
“Then the choice has already been made.” Daenerys snaps back. “I have done no wrong to them. If anything, I have showed the Lords and the common folk only kindness.”
Lady Stark raises a brow, “By giving them bread from Winterfell’s kitchens and handing them out as though you have brought them from Dragonstone, yourself?” She retorts.
Daenerys’s face goes aflame with embarrassment. “Your people are starving in this winter, I only meant to ease their suffering.”
Sansa sees right through the lie, and her face hardens. “Do not presume I am some silly girl, with no notions of politics. You meant to garner their support with resources meant for our brave soldiers.” She pauses sharply. “I respect, Your Grace, I do. You can have the Iron throne, but the North will be independent. If that changes after the war,” she shrugs, “Then so be it. I will be a queen for however long the North wishes for me to be their queen. For now, I am the Queen in the North, and you are my guest here.”
A heavy silence passes through the room, and the two queens eye each other, testily. Daenerys wishes she could throttle the Stark queen on the spot, to do so would be satisfactory beyond imagination. For now she settles for a saccharine smile, “You are right. Let the people decide. After the war, we will see who they wish to rule. The Queen who rode astride a dragon in battle for them, or the Queen who cowered behind these castle walls.”
A glint comes into the Stark queen’s eyes, and Daenerys imagines that the queen would throttle her too, if she could.
The preparations for battle are tiresome and Daenerys wants nothing more, after conversing at length with Tyrion and Ser Davos, than to find Jon Snow and have him take her to bed. They have not coupled since they have been at Winterfell, and her body aches for release.
Jon was strangely absent from this war meeting, although the Stark girl had named him Commander of the Northern army. The Northern lords predictably grumbled, but they could not deny his great fighting prowess and a dark look from Sansa Stark shut up any Lord that dared to mutter ‘bastard’ in her presence.
She comes to the door of his chambers, and raises a hand to knock, only to notice that the door is slightly ajar. Without thinking, she peers in to see if Jon is in the room, and is taken aback when she sees long, auburn hair instead.
Sansa Stark.
From the opening, she can just make out the Stark girl, sitting at the desk, shuffling through paperwork. She looks different, more casual than the regal, elegant queen at court. There are no heavy furs bearing down on her shoulder, and she wears a simple gray gown with her hair pulled out of its usual braid and fanned about her shoulders.
“Is Arya still training in the courtyard with Brienne?”
Daenerys jumps a bit when she hears Jon’s voice. He moves into her sight now, standing just a couple feet from his sister, pacing around the room in his heavy furs.
“Most likely.” The Stark girl replies. “She wants to fight alongside the soldiers, you know”
“Arya must stay here at Winterfell.” Jon’s voice is firm. “She must stay to protect you.”
“She will do what she wishes.” Sansa replies, simply. “You are not her king, you do not command her.”
There is nothing but silence for a few beats, and Dany watches as Sansa Stark coolly continues to attend to her paperwork, while Jon Snow can do nothing but rub his face in exasperation.
“I thought we were past this.” Jon Snow says, sullenly.
“Past what?” The Stark girl gives an un-ladylike snort. “Past you giving up our home to a foreign queen?” She continues filing through papers, as though she could not care less about this conversation.
“What I did, I did-“
“-In the North’s best interests.” She fills in, with a drawl to her tone. “I know, Jon, remember? I recited those exact words in front of our Lords, myself. I defended you as you wished me to.”
“And for that I am grateful.” He places a hand on her shoulder, and Lady Stark ceases her paperwork, to stare stonily ahead, though she does not move his hand away. Daenerys considers pulling away from the door, to leave the two siblings to their argument, but she finds herself glued to the frame, wondering with bated breath what will happen next. She has never seen the two Stark siblings together like this. In court, they are often seated together, but they hardly converse with one another, if only to interject about a certain war strategy or an issue of castle matters. They keep their distance, so it is a surprise to see the two of them together in Jon’s chambers. She wonders at the back of her mind, if they have met like this, often.
Jon continues, “I know you are cross with me. But, you are still my family, and despite everything, you have stayed with me.” His eyes lower sadly, “I have tried to reconcile with Arya, but it has been difficult.”
Lady Stark turns in her seat to look up at him and sigh, “Arya has told me, she doesn’t wish to see you, not just yet.” Jon flinches and she reaches for his hand. “I don’t say that to hurt you, Jon. I only am saying this so you know. She idolized you, adored you, and to see you come home with Daenerys Targaryen has shattered her expectations of a home where we can all be together as Starks. Although she’s been scarred, and changed so much, a part of her still wishes for that happy ending.”
“And what about you?” Jon murmurs, quietly. Daenerys strains harder to hear his next words. “What do you wish for?
“I don’t wish for much anymore.” There is a sad, mournfulness, to Lady Stark’s voice that breaks Daenerys’s heart just a bit. “I find the Gods have a dangerous way of interpreting our wishes.”
“But if the Gods were kind and generous, what would you wish for?” Jon presses, insistently.
Sansa Stark is silent before she replies, “I wish for happiness with you, Bran, and Arya. I want us to remain in Winterfell until we are old and graying, ruling over a prosperous kingdom. I wish there was no Cersei Lannister, no Dragon Queen, and no Night King.” Her voice lowers, and then she adds fiercely. “I wish they’d all fade away.”
Daenerys realizes now, that she will never be able to fully understand the Starks. Their house is built on something more than ambition and power. It is built on their love for each other, a foreign concept, as she will never know that same fierce loyalty. All she had was the weak-willed, and cowardly Viserys.
She nearly misses Jon’s reply, it comes softly, but she catches his low whisper. “I wish that too.” He sweetly presses a kiss atop her head. The guilt comes now, as she realizes what an intimate moment she has stumbled upon. That moment was only meant to be shared between the two siblings, and she has intruded on it enough.
Quietly, she moves away from the door, and heads off into the dark hallway, her retreating steps illuminated by the flickering torches.