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She sees him across the blood and smoke of a battlefield, his sword drawn, his face pale with regret. His sword is red with death and his skin shimmers with sweat, like the glimmer of rare metal.
The battle is almost won as it is, her men swarming like locusts over the few survivors from the other side. “Not him,” she says.
Her word spreads throughout her army - and the word of the khaleesi is law.
He is not to be harmed.
Yet he doesn’t surrender, his sword slashing and his muscles flexing as he takes on those who try to bring him to her - such a strong warrior. Her head tilts to the side as she watches him, heart aching, and thinks of the husband she lost, a memory that seems so faded now.
He is blood-stained when they bring him to her, his eyes blazing with defiance. His lips are full and his arm is dark - he is so different from her. She looks down from her horse as her men make him kneel before her. He grunts in defiance and struggles, but to no avail.
“Treat him gently,” she orders, although she knows not why. She stares at him and he finally looks up at her, meeting her gaze - his eyes hold so much history. She wants to hear it all. “What is your name?”
He stares at her for such long moments that she thinks he might choose not to answer her, but the words eventually come. “Jon Snow.”
She smiles. “Arise, Jon Snow,” she orders. “Will you travel with us? We march south to the Red Keep.”
“My place is on the Wall,” he answers. “You’ve killed my men.”
She loves the sound of his voice, a sullen, deep timbre that shivers right through her. “You shall have more men when I sit on the iron throne,” she promises. “You’ll have a true army.” His jaw tightens and his pride won’t let him bow to her will. “I don’t wish to take you prisoner, Jon Snow, but I don’t think you will give me an alternative.”
“I won’t surrender,” he says.
She nods to her guards and gives her instructions, which leaves him with little choice; surrendered or not, she’ll take him with her.
It’s supposed to be this way, she thinks. She can feel it - and, through the spark in his dark gaze, she thinks perhaps that he can too.