Chapter Text
Jon did not quite know what, precisely, to expect when he walked into the throne room at Dragonstone. He had never left the North before, at least, never left what is considered the true North. He had gone Beyond the Wall, and as far south as the Neck, but this was a new world entirely. Sansa had shown illustrations of King's Landing and told him stories of the stinking yet glittering midden that was the capital, as well as the windy prison of the Vale. Arya had spoken of the exotic sights of Braavos and the dank gloom of the Riverlands.
This? This was something entirely different. The architecture of Dragonstone alone was something curious, but when he walked into the Throne room, he was struck by how moody and glossy everything was. His throne in the North was a simple wooden chair, no more grand than that of Sansa to his left. The Iron Throne was a terrible thing of melted swords and the blood of a thousand defeated lords and decadent Dragon Kings.
The floor appeared to be black marble, threaded with veins of lighter stone to almost give it a watery effect, wide but shallow steps leading up to the throne itself. It appeared, from a distance, to resemble the profile of a dragon's head, in an odd way. Rough, yet graceful in the slanting rows of volcanic rock, it still seemed so ... plain for something that Aegon the Conquer would have sat upon, and upon whom sat the last of his descendants.
Daenerys Stormborn, the Targaryen Claimant of the Iron Throne. Princess of Dragonstone.
Even from this distance, Jon was struck by her beauty. Her light blonde hair radiated from her head and spilled down her shoulders, a pale patch of snow against the darkness of her throne. A red sash fell from her right shoulder and behind her back, highlighting the diamond-shaped carvings on the back of the throne to resemble scales. Her hands were clasped in front of her on her knee, and he couldn't help but think she looked so small on her throne, he could only imagine how tiny she would be compared to the gigantic dragons that had surprised him outside.
Little wonder people follow her, if she can command sons as big as that.
She seemed to watch him with distanced interest, as a woman dressed in black to her left announced her.
"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful Heir of the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men. Protector of the Seven Kingdoms-"
Six Ser Davos corrected mentally, but neither said anything.
"Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea"
Neither men knew what that meant. It had to be something to do with the Dothraki guard that was standing close to the Throne, his arakh ready and glimmering in the dull light of the room.
"The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains"
A pause. Tyrion looked between the two, wondering how such an austentacious introduction would go over with the two Northern men.
Jon, for his part, looked a touch lost. He looked to Davos, almost seeking a cue for his own introduction. It was odd, having to do so to a stranger, whereas in the North everyone knew him as Ned Stark's Bastard, the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Liberator of Winterfell, the White Wolf.
Davos paused.
"This is Jon Snow" His voice loud and dignified, before he had to say the one title that meant anything to a foreign Queen.
"He's King in the North"
Jon almost winced at the single title. The crown was uneasy on his brow at the best of times, and now it felt as though it were made of tin and braken compared to the one made of gold and steel that sat unseen upon the brow of the Dragon Queen.
Daenerys, for her part, seemed to simply take it in stride, calling no attention to the difference in their titles. Tyrion had told her that Northmen were blunt and to the point, she should expect no great show like the Masters of Essos would do in order to flout their position and wealth. She would get no glamour, but she would also get complete honesty. And in war, that was more precious than any golden-armoured pleasantries put towards her in diplomacy.
"Thank you for travelling so far, my Lord" She spoke, her voice light and clear. Jon noted that her voice had an accent that was different to anything he had heard before; it had hints of the Westerosi one, but Essos' many tongues had made an impact on her tone, "I hope the seas weren't too rough"
"The winds were kind, your Grace" Jon nodded in welcome to the courtesy. Davos, however, could not let something slip, not in this place where had spent so much time with the Baratheons of Dragonstone and with Stannis' unyielding adherence to tradition and rules.
"Apologies; I have a Fleabottom accent, I know-"
Daenerys didn't see what that had to do with anything, but that was besides the point.
"Jon Snow is King in the North, your Grace. He's not a Lord"
Daenerys regarded him with a light smile on her face. She was unsure if this man was Jon's Hand, or if he even had a Hand. The rules of the North were very odd to her, and Tyrion had been surprised at the sudden change to the North to name Jon as King. Something to do with bastards, the name 'Snow', the lady named Sansa Stark being Eddard Stark's heir ... Westeros had some bemusing laws when it came to children. Made no easier with the allowances in her own family, and what happened when bastards rebelled.
"Forgive me-"
"Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth" Tyrion quickly interjected. Davos was a good man, and it would not be good to let him go without a name for speaking up in the name of his King. A habit he made that could cost his life, but his principles wouldn't let it go unnoticed.
"Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did recieve a formal education, but I was informed that the last King in the North was the late Robb Stark, brother of Jon Snow. At least, as seen by the North; the last King from before the Conquest was Torren Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen, in exchanged for his life, and the lives of the Northmen"
It was a veiled threat, at least to everyone hearing it. This was not going well at all.
"Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetiuty. Or do I have my facts wrong?"
Davos was humbled, but could only reply with the closest thing he had to snark.
"I wasn't there, your Grace"
That amused Daenerys, she had to admit.
"No, of course not. But still; an oath is an oath. And perpetiuty means ... What does perpetiuty mean, Lord Tyrion?"
"... Forever" Tyrion looked at the two men, keeping his gaze level. He didn't seem disturbed by the direction of Daenerys' speech.
"Forever" Satisfied with the answer, she addressed the Northmen again, "So, I assume, you are here to bend the knee"
Jon had been looking down during her speech, but that caused him to sway his head, before looking up and looking her in the eye.
"I am not" His voice clear and steady.
Daenerys kept her light smile, with a note of only mild surprise.
"Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've travelled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"
"Break faith?" Jon sounded amused, but it was an amusement born out of indignant outrage, "Your father burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive"
Davos gave an uneasy side glance to Jon, but Jon continued.
"He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms-"
"My father" Daenerys raised her voice to cut Jon off, her eyes downcast for the first time in this meeting, "... was an evil man"
That caught Jon offguard, and he fell silent.
"On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family"
Silence, Jon glanced at Tyrion, but he said nothing.
"And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father"
... Well, I know how it feels to be judged by your father's sins ..
"Our Houses were allies for centuries. Centuries of peace and prosperity, the best the Seven Kingdoms had ever known. With a Targaryen on the Throne, and a Stark as Warden in the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Bend the knee, and I will make you Warden of the North"
Jon looked at her. He looked at her upon her throne. He looked at the Dothraki to her side, he looked at the dragons carved upon the walls to represent her children outside. He looked at Tyrion Lannister advising her. He saw someone that could take King's Landing tomorrow. He saw someone that could have his throat cut with no men but Davos to protect him. The most humble King the Seven Kingdoms, in any form, had known.
"No"
Her smile remained, but her brows quirked, and she tilted her head slightly, "No?"
"It's true, what you say. You should not be beholden to your father's crimes" He tilted his chin up slightly, "And I am beholden to none of my ancestor's oaths"
".. You are-"
"I am not a Stark" He made that plain. He had said it many times in the North, he had said it to Tyrion, and he was going to make it very clear to Daenerys, "I am, however, the King in the North. The people chose me to lead them, guide them. If I break my oath to them, as their King, then my word is nothing. My promises, meaningless"
"I am not here to bend the knee, your Grace" Jon Snow of Winterfell spelt it out to Daenerys Stormborn of Dragonstone, "I am here, as King in the North, to speak to you as Queen of a faraway Essos Kingdom, about something that concerns us all. Something greater than both of us. Something greater than thrones and Kings and Queens"
This was unexpected, and even Tyrion couldn't disguise his surprise.
"And what is that?"
"A threat from Beyond the Wall. Something that will need us to work together to fight it, or there will be no throne for anyone"
"What, exactly, is this threat? I was under the assumption that the lands beyond the great walls of the Night's Watch had no Kingdoms"
"That is true, the Wildlings have no Kings, for the most part. But it is something darker"
His refusal to say what it was out loud was starting to test her patience. He seemed so intent, so earnest. His dark eyes took on a steely glint when talking about.
"You stand before my throne, in front of my Dothraki and dragons. You refuse to bend the knee, and you say we have to fight something else. You make it sound as though I have no choice"
"You do" He countered, "You could go after Cersei. I wouldn't stop you. She's a monster. You haven't gone after her yet ... I assume because you don't want to hurt innocent people"
She waited to see where he was going to go with this.
"I'm here from the North because this is something too important to send men to talk about on my behalf. And I refuse to send them to Cersei; she will instantly kill them without hearing their words. I was told you would listen. I need your help, Daenerys Stormborn. And you need mine"
"Against ... what, exactly? I have thousands of Dothraki and Unsullied, all will kill for me. I have three dragons, each with enough flame to set a whole region's fields afire. What do I need your help with?"
"The threat from the North"
"You still haven't told me what, exactly, that is"
"It is the Dead, your Grace. White Walkers, Wights, and the Night King"
Daenerys simply stared at him, her brow furrowed.
"I know it sounds fantastical, your Grace" Jon looked down, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before looking back, "But you have dragons. So I thought you would be more open to believing it. Lots of people south of the Neck don't believe in the old stories, of wights and dead men murdering Night Watch rangers. The Wildlings don't believe it, they know it. The Night's Watch didn't believe for a long time, now they have seen them. I've killed them, I have men who have killed them. They can be beaten. But not without help. All of us, all of the living, must come together to stop this army. We must fight them"
"And after? What are your plans for after that?"
"We must rebuilt. This war will not be won in days, or even weeks. Many, many people will die without co-operation"
"I am asking a simple question; after this is over, will you support my claim to the Throne?"
Jon looked at her. She had three dragons. She had a mountain of dragonglass. She was an ally that was intensely valuable, more valuable than words. But the eyes of a thousand Northmen, generations of Starks, they all rested upon him at this critical moment, as a dragon roared outside.
"I will do as the North wishes for me. I am their King, I answer to them. Not you. Not a Throne in the South that I have never seen. No-one else. A Stark must always be in Winterfell, and I will give my life to protect Winterfell and the people of the North. If that means you will strike me down for it, so be it"
A long, tense silence as Daenerys and Jon stared each other out. Davos looked to his feet frequently, Tyrion made silent calculations in his own mind. It was a risk, but Daenerys was forewarned of the North's bluntness. Of the humble beginnings of Jon Snow. Of his iron sense of right and wrong.
Daenerys stood, coming down from the steps of the Throne to stand before the man who was introduced with so little fanfare and even fewer men beside him. Jon was surprised to see that she was even smaller than he thought, but refused to move away from her. Coming closer, he could only marvel at her beauty, but the look in her eye had him more wary.
"If a man comes to me with no men and only his word and a sword, with the expections of the people who called for him to lead ... Who am I to deny him an audience to discuss something he feels is a greater threat than the Mother of Dragons?" She offered a small smile, "I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, offer peace with the North under their King, to discuss the threat Beyond the Wall"
She offered her hand, slim, with a silver ring ended with two beautiful white pearls on it, to him.
Jon looked at the hand, then to her face. Standing with their gaze hooked, he was about to shake her hand when she took his entire arm, clasping just under the inside fold of his elbow. He hesitated, but did the same. He should have taken his gloves off, but he reserved some of his guard for now.
"I therefore invite you to supper, so we may discuss this further. You have had a long journey, and I eel such matters would be better suited to a dinner table" She let go of his arm, but kept her gaze, a smile more firm on her lips.
"Wouldn't you say, your Grace?"
He offered a smile back.
"Yes, your Grace ..."