Chapter Text
“I told you, the North doesn’t much trust outsiders,” Jon Snow said nervously.
Indeed, Jon had warned her, suggesting it may be better if she and him arrived ahead of the Dothraki and Unsullied. “You don’t want to scare them,” he had said. But Daenerys found no reason for them to be afraid; after all, the Dothraki and Unsullied were riding North to save them. It should be a comforting sight to see so many soldiers riding to their aid.
“It doesn’t matter that I’m riding with you?” She asked him playfully.
But he did not seem amused. “Just be careful what you say, I don’t want to upset them.”
“Why should they be upset? I am their rightful Queen, and I’m coming to save them.” Daenerys said
“They’re a stubborn people, and have never been fond of kneeling. Or Targaryens.” Jon seemed to know she wouldn’t like his answer. Looking out on hundreds of distrusting Northern faces, Daenerys suddenly felt out of place. She knew they had never loved her family, and certainly not her father, but she was different. I am their savior, she thought, hopefully they’ll come to understand. But for the first time, she wasn’t sure of herself.
As if sensing her discomfort, Drogon came flying overhead with a fantastic roar. Even on their trip up North, he had grown so much. To watch him fly now was truly breathtaking. Daenerys liked to imagine he resembled Balerion the Black Dread when Aegon had brought him to Westeros some 300 years ago. The people were less amazed by him though; many went running and screaming in all directions. But Daenerys could not bring herself to care, Drogon was too glorious a sight to let a few Northerners ruin it.
As Rhaegal swooped down beside his brother, Daenerys suddenly felt a pain in her chest. Once there would have been three, where now there is only two, she thought. It had only been 3 moon turns since Viserion had fallen beyond the wall. When she closed her eyes, Daenerys could still see the flames bursting from his chest, mixing with blood as he crashed into the ice. Rhaegal’s awful scream still echoed in her ears, the way the ground had shook with the force of Viserion’s fall. Steeling herself, she put her heels into her horse and rode on. She had flown north to save Jon that day, to save the King in the North. Looking over at him eased her concerns. I may not have the people, but I have their king, she thought.
Riding through the gates of Winterfell, Daenerys saw a huge gathering in the courtyard. Standing in front of the people was a tall red-haired girl she assumed was Jon’s sister Sansa, and beside her a boy in a strange chair she knew could only be Brandon Stark, Jon’s little brother and rightful heir to Winterfell and the North. She still didn’t understand how Jon could be King when his true born siblings lived in Winterfell, but she knew Jon trusted them fully.
Daenerys looked to her left to say something to Jon, but he had already sent his horse into a gallop, a look of sheer joy on his face. “Bran!” he called out, leaping off his horse and heading straight towards his little brother. When he reached Bran, Jon wrapped him in a tight embrace. “I haven’t seen you in years, and now you’re almost a man!” His voice told Dany he was close to tears.
“Not quite.” His brother’s voice sounded almost lifeless, but he smiled up at Jon with warmth.
Standing to Bran’s right, Sansa looked over at her brothers and smiled. Jon looked over at her and smiled in return, going to give her a hug as well. But as she wrapped her arms around him, Sansa’s eyes met with Dany’s, and it almost looked like jealousy. Jon had warned her that Sansa wouldn’t take kindly to the North losing independence, especially not to a Targaryen. “Is Arya here?” Jon asked his sister.
“She went to Winter’s Town to see you arrive; I don’t think she could wait to see you here properly.” Jon smiled, and Daenerys could tell he loved is little sister very much. Sansa was still looking at Dany though, waiting for Jon to address her.
Jon seemed to notice Sansa’s gaze and turned back to look at Daenerys. “Queen Daenerys Targaryen, this is my sister Sansa, the Lady of Winterfell and heir to the North.”
Dany had hung back from Jon’s family, standing with Ser Jorah beside her, but now she stepped forward for introductions. “Lady Sansa, the North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you. Thank you for opening Winterfell up to me and my armies.”
Sansa looked at her silently for half a beat too long, then said “Winterfell is yours, your grace.” Her tone was very kind, but held no affection.
“We don’t have time for introductions, the White Walkers are coming.” Bran said, catching everyone’s attention. Then he looked at Daenerys and said “The Night King has broken through the Wall, with the help of your dragon.”
Daenerys suddenly felt as if she might throw up. “Viserion? How?”
“He raised your dragon from the dead and now flies south with the biggest army Westeros has ever seen, and a dragon to lead them.” Bran’s voice lacked the inflection of most men, yet something in his dry tone sat wrong with Daenerys. But she could not focus on his words, her mind still reeling from the revelation that Viserion was a weapon of the Night King now. My child, she thought, how am I to face him like that?
She felt tears well in her eyes, and tried to push them back. “Perhaps we can reconvene later, to discuss our plan.” Dany said.
Jon noticed her distress and spoke up. “I’ll show Queen Daenerys to her chambers, and her men can set up their quarters within the walls. Once they are comfortable, we can gather in the Great Hall.” He gave her a sad look, and reached out his hand for hers.
Jon led her up the battlements and towards the rooms of Winterfell. “You’ll be staying here,” He said, leading her into a large room “they’re the King’s Chambers, but I imagine they won’t mind a Queen.”
He went to leave the room. “Jon?” she called “Will you sit with me for a moment?” The news of Viserion’s resurrection still had her feeling sick to her stomach, and she knew Jon would understand. After Viserion died, he had been there to comfort her. That was the day he made her his Queen, and called her Dany too.
He hesitated for a moment, looking at the door then back at her, then moved to sit with her on the bed. “I’m sorry about your dragon,” he said “I know you saw him as a child.”
For a moment the two just sat there next to each other. Daenerys didn’t know what to say, and instead decided to cry. “I should be going, I need to talk to my men and see my family.” Jon said awkwardly.
“Of course,” Dany gathered herself “I will see you before the Great Hall?”
“I will try, my Queen.” He said almost distantly, and left the room.
Alone in her chambers, Daenerys let herself cry for Viserion fully. The thought of him as a weapon of the Night King terrified her; she had spent enough time on the back of Drogon to know how powerful a dragon was, and now her own would be turned against her. She had known him since he was born in Drogo’s funeral pyre, and so had Drogon. Now the two of them would have to kill him.
Suddenly her chambers felt cold and lonely. Thousands of people gathered outside in the courtyard and the many Halls, but Daenerys could not feel anything but alone.