Chapter Text
The journey from Dragonstone to White Harbor had been a long one, made even longer by an unforgiving winter storm that had hit them on the last leg of their route. The party was more than a week past the date they had been originally expected to arrive, but arrive they finally had. Jon was glad to feel solid ground beneath him again as he stepped onto docks. Aside from the Iron Islanders, the people of the North made their way by foot and horse, rarely by ship. He was not prone to seasickness like some, but he was still happier to be off the rocking waves.
The only thing Jon would miss now that the voyage was over was the private time it had afforded him with Daenerys. Over the course of the journey, the two had grown intimate, more than just physically so. The nights spent in her bed were a welcome reprieve from the onslaught of duties as they prepared for war, and a chance to unburden himself for a time. But now that they were to travel North with the entirety of their host, their would be precious little opportunity for what had developed between them to continue.
Perhaps it is for the best, Jon thought. I broke my vows with Ygritte and look at what became of it. Now I do the same thing with Daenerys. True, he was no longer a man of the Night's Watch and was beholden to a vow of celibacy no more, but being with Daenerys still felt like a betrayal. He'd been chosen as the King in the North and he had bent the knee to a foreign queen without so much as consulting his advisors. Though he felt sure it was ultimately the right choice and necessary to win the war and bring peace, Jon knew it would not be popular amongst the people of the North. And it would only add insult to injure when they learned that he had lain with her.
I really do know nothing, he thought bitterly.
Though, it might still be some time before the people even knew that Jon had ceded the North to Queen Daenerys. After much discussion, it had been decided that Jon would retain his title as King in the North, at least for the time being, and that they would present their working together as a simple alliance. Jon had been staunchly against it, as lying to his people went against everything he knew about honor. He had said as much when Tyrion had suggested it at a war council.
"I bent the knee and swore fealty to Deanerys, and I meant it," he had said hotly. "I will not falsely say otherwise."
Daenerys had spread her hands in a soothing gesture. "It is not false. You recognized me as your queen, and as queen, I am free to decide how I want the kingdoms to be ruled. And I want you to rule in the North as king, knowing that you are loyal to House Targaryen."
"When I first came to Dragonstone, you wanted me to renounce my title and give you the North."
"Yes, I did," she conceded. "When my only thought was of taking back the Iron Throne. But now there is a different war to win, and we will need the support of the Northern people if we are to win it, and they will not take kindly to me if they believe I have stolen their king from them."
Before Jon could say another word, Tyrion had interjected dryly, "I know you have a hard-on for honor and whatnot, but this is what must be done. Daenerys is not loved in the North nor does she know it's customs, and we cannot afford uncertainty or distrust if we want to succeed. It's only temporary, and we can discuss bringing the North back into the fold of the Iron Throne once we win the war. Your people will likely be much more amenable to Queen Daenerys once she's helped to save their sorry hinds from the dead."
The logic of their statements had their merit and Jon had been tired of arguing; he'd agreed to do it, albeit somewhat reluctantly. So King he remained, even if it was mostly a hallow title.
His thoughts were broken as Daenerys came up from behind him to stand at his side, a warm fur cloak wrapped about her white winter dress. She looked up at the collection of buildings sprawled around the harbor, all of them frosted white and presided over by an ancient stone castle at the top of the cliff.
"I've never seen a whole city covered in snow before," she murmured quietly. "Truthfully, I didn't think the North had towns as large as this."
Jon nodded. "White Harbor is the biggest city in all the North. It's ruled by House Manderly, one of the most loyal families and staunchest supporters the Starks have known."
Daenerys turned her pale violet eyes on Jon. "Does that bode well for my arrival here?"
"They may not like it, but they will support me and, as long as we are allies, you."
She nodded briskly. As more of their party began to disembark, a plump middle-aged man with a long greying mustache and a merman emblazoned on his armor approached them, followed by a handful of city guardsmen wielding tridents.
He stopped before Jon and made a single bow. "Welcome back to White Harbor, my King. I hope your journey was well."
Jon resisted the urge to frown at being addressed as a king, which still did not sit right with him, but he nodded to the knight anyway. "Thank you, Ser Wylis. My journey was well, or as well as traveling to the South can be."
The heir to White Harbor smiled and said, "Aye, I'd say there's nothing below the Neck worth making a trip for. I think I should never leave the North again as long as I live."
He could not resist a small smile himself; he'd missed Northerners and their icy attitudes towards the South. After a moment, Jon turned and gestured his hand towards Daenerys. "Ser Wylis, allow me to introduce you to Queen Daenerys Targaryen. She has allied herself with the North and pledged her men and her dragons to help us in the fight against the dead."
The mirth dropped from the fat knights face at the mention of Daenerys, but he still bowed to the queen. "The North is grateful for your aide, Your Grace. Your Dorthraki and Unsullied men have been waiting outside the city for your arrival this past week. I must say, the people have been quiet uneasy with a host so large camped just outside our doors."
"My apologies, Ser Wylis," Daenerys spoke graciously, ignoring the obvious disdain from the Northerner. "We did not intend to be at sea for as long as we were, but a storm delayed us. There wasn't to much trouble, I hope?"
Wylis shook his head, "In truth, they kept to themselves and did little to bother us within the city. Still, it'll be a relief to see the army head North."
"Of course. We shall make for Winterfell as soon as possible," she said with a smile.
"Aye," Jon interjected. "We mean to stay only a night to ready our supplies and leave in the morning. Will your father object to our staying at New Castle?"
Ser Wylis again smiled, seemingly a little thawed to Queen Daenerys. "My father lives to serve the King in North, and will be glad to have you. I'll have my men ready some horses." With that, he bowed again and returned to the trident-carrying guardsmen at the end of the dock.
Daenerys took a long breath and turned towards Jon, "Hardly the warmest of welcomes, but a welcome nonetheless. You were right that Manderlys would support our alliance."
"If only the rest of your introductions go so well," Jon spoke quietly, and his queen nodded in agreement. Just then, Jon caught sight of two people whom he wished to discuss with and he excused himself from Daenerys.
Gendry and Ser Davos nodded respectfully as he approached, but did not bow. They knew Jon never cared for men bowing to him. "What can I do for you, Your Grace?" Davos asked.
"Actually there is something I was hoping Gendry could do for me."
"Me? You want-" Gendry sputtered, before straightening up. "Anything, as long as I don't have to go beyond that damn wall again."
Jon chuckled at the younger man's words. "No, nothing like that. There is another ship that will be coming from Dragonstone carrying the dragonglass we've mined. I want you to wait for the shipment here and then escort it Winterfell, where I mean to put you in charge of forging weapons from it."
For a moment, the black-haired bastard didn't say anything, and Jon could see his mind whirling behind his blue eyes. Sometimes, in moments like these when Gendry seemed to be thinking of a million different things, Jon wondered if there was something the boy wasn't telling him.
Finally he spoke, "Thank you, m'lord. I never thought I'd be honored enough to be in charge of my own smith. But I want to do more than just forge weapons, I want to wield them. I want to fight."
"They'll be plenty of time for that, make no mistake," it was Davos who spoke, clapping the blacksmith on his back. "But we won't even get a chance to fight if we don't have weapons that we can kill those dead sons of bitches with. We need a good smith to arm our men."
Gendry nodded and a look of contemplation passed over his face. A shout echoed from across the docks and Jon turned to see Ser Wylis beckoning from the street and his men holding the reigns of half a dozen or more horses. As he turned and began making his way towards the knight, Jon thought of all that had been accomplished since leaving the North. Winning the trust of Queen Daenerys, securing a supply of dragonglass, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that the wights and Others were real, and agreeing to a truce with Cersei. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.
But there is still so much to do.