In all of her years, weakness had only been prodded and highlighted, showing her that she would gain no followers, she would achieve no greatness, and she would be surrounded by those who saw it fit to take advantage of her. In spite of knowing that, the thought of visiting Winterfell even with Jon at her side had left her with a very human notion of weakness, teasing along her insides, threatening with invisible little tendrils of influence and embrace. She could have turned him down, she supposed, and yet what good would that have done for them? Daenerys was no coward and surely those who had thought so once before had seen the might and the fury of the Mother of Dragons.
Yet as their paths drew them closer to the home Jon had known from younger years, surrounded by his collective of siblings and the ever well-intentioned Eddard Stark, she could not deny that even in the face of her sometimes most radiant courage, she still felt a degree of uncertainty. It took all of her strength to hold her composure together and to greet those who were his people with a warmth that was not simply diplomatic or political in nature, yet also convincing with slivers of sincerity.
Truthfully, they had not been... unkind. Cold, perhaps. As cold as the infinite winter that held them in secure and stable grasp. That was to be expected and Daenerys did not fault them, though she wondered how she could earn their love rather than their distrust. Alas, an ever ongoing battle that never seemed to end. In spite of her birthright, in spite of the great legacy that followed the Targaryen queen, her path had oft been met with little more than wariness and suspicion, though perhaps in the face of the insanity that had taken the mad king, that too may have been anticipated. Sometimes she too, wondered when Aerys' blood might have touched her.
"You must rest. The journey has been a long one and it will be longer still."
Jorah's reassuring words remained with her, a kindness of his voice echoed between her ears when she finally obtained some moments and breaths of her own. It granted her the clarity to see past her growing self-involvement. At least a touch of such charitable demeanour. Her path was not the only one difficult. Through his devotion to her, Jon had his own adversities to stand against and she knew well enough that she was the catalyst for such things. Had it not been for her, his own position would not be so precarious. She had thought him to sound confident in his own comforting moments, but she wondered how much of that had been truth and how much of it he had said to simply placate her.
She would have no way to know without simply asking it of him and that too came with its own kind of fear that she didn't wish to play into the hands of. At least not yet. So with her moments of what was sure to be momentary tranquillity, she took in the sights of the home from where Jon had come. Truly a pariah and an outcast, a pale-haired queen who looked so very out of place in a land blanketed by snow and ice.
I wonder how many furs it shall take for me to feel warmth. Up here it feels as though even my fire is frozen to its core.
He had noticed the reception that waited for them. Similarly to Robert's arrival, the whole of Winterfell had assembled in the courtyard. Sansa had been courteous enough, a bit stiff and cold, but she had done her duty and yielded the keep to their new Queen. Salt and bread were offered, a sacred tradition that was even more observed among the Starks, along with thoughts of those it did not spare. Some camps had been prepared in the courtyard for a number of Daenerys's forces and captains. Many of the soldiers would have to rest outside alongside a fair group of the refugees.
Sansa had made some efforts to evacuate the villages a bit further North and relocate the smallfolk here, but it was not enough. By the size of them, she had only focused on the surrounding area. She muttered something to him about food as Jon went below to the crypts to pay respect to Lord Eddard. She didn't follow after, swallowing her complaints for now. He was tired, the journey had been long and there would be a contentious meeting with his lords soon. Already he had seen their angry and insulted looks when Dany's back had been turned. They would have words for him, all centering around his decision to bend the knee and his oath to support Daenerys as Queen. It was at least put off for now as the rest gathered and readied.
Staring up at his father's features, he took a slow breath, trying to think what he might say in such a situation. How Ned would have faced the anger of his people. This was done for a greater good and a true belief that it was the right path, but it didn't make the fallout any easier. He was a bastard before he was once a king. Many of them would see that as an opportunity to attack him, to question his intuition and decision making. It was Robb that was trained to be a leader, not Jon. That fact was likely in their minds. They had chosen the son of Ned Stark that was never meant to hold Winterfell or the North. There had never been a place for him before in the Great Hall, perhaps they were wrong to have made one now.
He gripped and ungripped his hands, letting out a shaky breath. Beyond that, there were the troubles of food, wood and other supplies, both for refugees, armies and Winterfell. What they brought might not be enough. Men would have to take risks in the woods to chop more while other supplies were diverted to Winterfell. He needed a way to bring other families to Winterfell, the Great Houses that might be inclined to wait behind their walls. Their people would be the first targets and then their keeps. Being divided and waiting this out as they would wait out winter was no longer an option.
Seeking once more an answer from his father's face, he returned to the keep. Many servants and nobles tried to intercept Jon, but he kept walking, simply telling them, "Later." There was someone else he wanted to see first.
He had noticed the struggle she had endured on the way to Winterfell and her best attempts to brush aside the coldness when she was received. Daenerys had sacrificed a great deal to follow him on a war that she could have easily prepared for on Dragonstone. She had come with him on simple appeals and pleas, setting aside her own plans to oversee the safety of the North and the realm. But beyond those duties as a queen, he imagined how this might be affecting the woman. The cold reception, the buried hostility, it wouldn't be comfortable for anyone to face and he didn't want to leave her to stew in it for long. Not without his reassurances.
He needed her advice though, her thoughts on what they could do to proceed. That gathering would be contentious and she would have to endure more unkindness. His heart ached, cursing himself for forcing her to undergo this. She was surrounded with those who loved her before, now she would have to contend with icy Northerners. He wanted better for her than this, but still she was here, prepared to face it. It was his fault in the end, his doing that brought her to this painful moment. His selfishness and desperation had pulled her from her rightful path onto his. Worst still, he managed to touch her heart in a more personal way, one that he could not guarantee would be safe. He might well die in this war and he might leave her heartbroken. Another woman that he abandoned for duty and put in harm's way.
He found her room easily. Sansa, in a rare gesture of generosity (or perhaps more rare than he expected) had given her the Lord's chamber. His sister had taken her old room for now, granting Daenerys this much of an honor. The guards placed in front let him enter without complaint or objection. Perhaps he should have knocked, but his thoughts were full of her, needing to see her, needing to ensure that she wasn't angry with him.
Jon paused once the door was shut, shaken by how she might greet him, just as he had been the night he came to her rooms. His fingers clenched and unclenched anxiously, fidgeting as he struggled to find his confidence again. "Dany?"
Drowned in the flames of her room's fire, Daenerys stewed in thought, replaying her every moment since arrival. Every look she took notice of and the plethora of which she had undoubtedly missed. Only a fool would have come to the north and believed herself to have been welcomed. If she had even more than a few friendly faces, she would have been surprised. She had done nothing to win the loyalty of these people. They were, in fact, not even truly hers. By coming, she had put Jon in a precarious position, one where the balance of power was already potentially in question. It was not as though she wasn't aware of Jon's grievances even in slight, though perhaps she'd not been as attentive to them as he deserved.
There were many things she hadn't been as considerate about, she realised, in hindsight. Not just Jon. The plight of the Others that lingered not far from them. Much the reason she had come. Otherwise, it was likely they would simply devour the north. She needed Jon's people, and they, whether they chose to believe it or not, needed her in turn. One could not be a leader if they had no one and nothing to lead, after all. Although perhaps that could have been contested, given that Daenerys had started with nothing. With less than nothing. She had started little more than a purchased young woman who had clawed her way to the position she was in now. Purely by the grace of the Targaryen blood that simmered hotly in her veins.
It wasn't the door that caught her attention, but rather Jon's direct address. He drew her from both thoughts and the way her stare lingered on the twisting and turning of flames from the fire, the only source of warmth she'd truly felt since her arrival. Her frame turned and for several longer moments, she simply assessed Jon from head to toe, seeing in him stability and comfort. An undeniable draw between them. Love, she suspected, in some fashion, though she suspected he neither needed to hear it, nor she needed to say it.
She read him well. As well as she could, and given that she was an observant and cunning woman, she was certain she'd been around men long enough to know when there were things afoot. Disguised behind well and proper intention, Daenerys dipped her head in an initial, subtle acknowledgement, her hands buried into the furs that lined her, another courtesy she'd been given in her stay.
"What is it?" she asked him then, feeling no need for roundabout games or beating about proverbial bushes. "Is everything all right?"
Not 'everything.' She knew the answer to that. Many things weren't well. Most things... weren't, it seemed. Yet that was entirely the reason they were in Winterfell at present. They weren't all right, but they would be.
He lingered, not wanting to get into business or troubles just yet. Looking at her, he wanted to hold her, stroke her hair and soothe away her thoughts. He could see a certain hesitation and worry in her eyes, most likely mirroring his own. This was a difficult situation and it bothered him that he had introduced her into it. Worse, that he subjected her to a reception far from warm. He wanted better for her. He wanted everyone to see her as she was and love her with as much fervor as he did. Time, it would take time, but in this, he was impatient.
In the end, he didn't know what to say to the personal, only to step closer and take her hand. Small intimacy, but a sign of his feelings and support. "I need to decide what to say when the lords gather. They're going to object." As she well knew. "I have been thinking of my father and what he might have said. They trusted him completely and I need to find a way to convince them to trust me now."
He knew what was really troubling him. "The last time I urged my men to follow me and accept outsiders, they killed me in the courtyard of Castle Black." He doubted highly he would die again, at least by his own men, but that anxiety and fear was still there.
"We need to think about the defenses, how to man them, where to begin planning attacks and fortify the parts of the Keep that are weakest." He sighed, simply unburdening all of his thoughts. "Wood will be important, but we might need to fell a whole forest for that. We don't have the time, but your people need to be kept warm."
He looked at her sadly with a worn expression. Even if he was no longer king, he still had all the of the burdens of one on his shoulders. "What do you think?"
Of course they are going to object. She wanted to feel embittered by the very notion, but understood she couldn't. She's had her own objections, after all. She can't strip from others their free will. As is their right.
When he continued, clarified his hesitance, her expression turned and softened, sympathetic to his cause. She had been no stranger to others attempting to kill her, but his own men succeeded. How he can be standing in front of her now speaks of a magic she can hardly know or understand. Perhaps a magic akin to that which both gave and took away Drogo. She didn't dare pry where she felt she didn't need to be, but knew well enough she'd be asking him of it later. Another time. Another circumstance.
"One step at a time," she finally managed to reply, reaching over to take his hands into her own gently.
Everything he said toppled right out of him. If he constantly looked at each and every thing at the same time, he would only overwhelm himself. She had something he didn't—Tyrion and Jorah, advisers. Those with whom she could share her thoughts. Those who would help guide her. In the end, she would not have been where she was without them.
"Express to them rough plans to address defences and fortifying Winterfell. You are not here on your own. I came here to help however you may need it. That does include your people in addition to mine. Mine can gather firewood. I am not above doing what is necessary. You cannot be everywhere at once. I am here to shoulder some of that burden, that you not think you must carry everything in solitude."
Daenerys shook her head at him with just a touch of disappointment, though she understood very well where it came from. His father would have carried all things, she was certain, and without complaint. Although surely he too had someone to share his concerns with...
"Those I brought with me here can also help assist with the defences. We may not be accustomed to the winter, but they will do as they are bid to. We can and will find a way. Perhaps we start with the beginning of all of this, and how to address your people. I am here for you, am I not? We tell them as such. They are as much my people as they are yours. I will care for them as though they are mine."
It staggers how much her touch can center him and feel more like home than anywhere else he's been. This isn't the time to reflect on his heart or feelings for her, but sometimes they were so overwhelming, it left him dazed and breathless. She was more than his queen, she was someone he was searching for his entire life. His fingers squeezed her, his breath becoming steadier under her gentle encouragement. His thoughts were spinning, a cacophony noise that had no real discernable words, just emotions of anxiety, worry and fear. There was no one to share it with, not at Castle Black really or after he left. Suddenly, there was Dany. She understood, she knew the burdens of this position. That was a relief in and of itself.
He nodded, pressing his brow to hers for a moment before pulling back to meet her eyes. "If we send some of your people to go into the forests, we will need a few Northerners to at least direct them. Your men can take care of themselves, but it's easy to get lost or overrun by bands of wolves." It was still a good idea. It would let some of his people work on simple fortification. "Ser Jorah wouldn't be offended if I we ask him to direct the efforts? You trust him and he knows this land well." Even if he had lived away from the North for some time.
"We should have him present with the Northern Lords." His reputation was tarnished, true, but he was still a Northerner at heart. He might have some sway with his House or otherwise. What mattered was having someone else from the North that added their voice to Jon's, insisting that Dany was the right person to lead them.
"It will be easier to begin assigning certain duties to our people once we meet with them and manage to placate them." Which wasn't something he was looking forward to. "Northerners bent the knee for dragons before, it can be stomached by them." Even if he was likely going to be the Second King that Knelt. "Beyond explaining the reasons, if I do a more public swearing to you, it might do some good. They will hear you vow yourself to look after them and take their interests into account."
He didn't have need to air his concerns. Daenerys saw them in the dark of his eyes as though they were simply writ across the features of his face. She saw the reflection of her own struggles. The complications of leading people. The adversity that came with being a leader. One could say that a lord, a king, a queen, a lady had all of luxuries, but though the hardships were different from that of someone without some influence, it was still fraught with dangers and obstacles.
She thought of Jorah and what he might prefer in the north. Perhaps he missed his homeland. Perhaps not, considering he had been disgraced given his history. But perhaps some part of him still longed for the land from which he and his had come. In some ways, Daenerys believed she had felt attached to what she believed was her home as well, even if she was born far from it. Even if it was home only by birthright. Home was more than a place as well. It was an idea. It was people. Locale rarely had anything to do with it.
And by that respect, where was Daenerys' home now?
"No," she replied as she shook her head. "If I ask it of him, he would oblige." Likely without argument at that. Daenerys suspected she could ask nigh anything of him and he would go along with it. Perhaps not without offering some of his advice, but he would still follow the wishes of his queen. She found herself nodding in agreement when he continued. "We should, yes, provided you do not think that would cause difficulty. I understand his relationship with the north is a strained one, at the very least."
Her chin dipped, considering what more he had to present to her. It was pertinent that she thought of all sides. How such actions reflected on him. If something she said or did could represent poorly. Regardless of her own position in things as they were, she could never let down her guard fully. And she could never have Jon thinking that she wasn't acting with him in mind. Even if she didn't necessarily treat him as paramount, he remained a foreground priority. Him and his desires.
"I would prefer it if they did not merely stomach or endure pledging loyalty to me. I am not a tyrant queen. I wish to protect them, to care for them. I must be able to show them so in time. I require their patience and the opportunity to do so. As such, I intend to be as involved as those I have brought with me. Whether that is gathering firewood or attending meetings, I will do as necessary to show my dedication to the cause."
He wanted the Northerners to do more than stomach her as well. He had hoped that they would be more open to her, given what she was bringing them. Many of the men who fought in Robert's Rebellion were dead now. The few that still lived only heard of Aerys, never really seeing him or his actions. Still, the lies of Robert ran deep. They likely would side eye Dany for some time and watch every move she made. Once the war started, everything would change, but it wasn't a terrible idea for her to be involved, so long as she was prepared for hostility to begin with.
"There's a lot of work to do, so having you join would be appreciated." He was hesitant to expose her to all that labor, but he knew that she wasn't some delicate flower. She didn't simply oversee things, she endured alongside her followers. It was one of the reasons he respected her as a ruler. She didn't watch from a balcony, she was at their side. "We can at least start with firewood and other provisions. It's nothing too strenuous. Number keeping, distributing, that sort of work."
Which she would be fairly good with, he knew. "What do you think about another public declaration? Something that the Northern lords could witness?" And perhaps come to accept. He'd be the second king that knelt, but it would at least be somewhat familiar for them. Perhaps reminding them of these stories they all grew up with.
Number keeping. Distributing. Such simple things, and she understood to some degree, perhaps he didn't like the idea of her getting so involved. It may have been his means of compromise. He understood well enough that Daenerys would sink herself full in alongside those that followed her to empathise better and to lead them with her heart, rather than with purely political mind of royalty that couldn't well understand the plights of their followers.
Her head tipped thoughtfully, wondering if she ought to contest that she was capable of more strenuous labour as well, but decided that if such an opportunity came up, she was going to pursue it with or without discussion. It helped that he broke into her thoughts with talk of public declarations. She didn't require a lengthy explanation over what he was implying. Her response was not immediate, instead prying her gaze from his handsomely sculpted face and past him in their solitude.
"Is that safe?" she asked him quietly, realising that there would, undoubtedly, be repercussions for such a spectacle. Not necessarily for her, but again, another situation where if there was to be a line of fire, Jon was very willing to put himself between her and whatever that might have been. She could admire his adamant devotion to her, but at the same time, she'd had plenty of blood on her hands, and Daenerys took very little pleasure in the idea of sacrifices.
There were already so many people she had been unable to save. What if she failed to save him as well? It was a weighted and real concern.
It was cold up here in the far North, far colder than she had thought possible. But she was riding Andorra instead of sitting in the warmth of the carriages with the other ladies. It would have been the most prudent thing to do, but she had wanted to see the land of the family her father had sent her to make an alliance with. And so, she rode. OF course, she had ridden in the carriage plenty of times but the closer they had got to Winterfell, the more she had ridden.
The ride from Dorne had been long and it had given Inara plenty of time to think about this alliance her father wanted with the newly crowned King of the North, Jon Snow. She had wondered if he still went by Jon Snow or if he had given himself his father's name. But, she supposed that truly didn't matter. What mattered was what he could bring to the alliance. Her father had a great army behind him and plenty of money. She wasn't so sure what the North could even offer them.
She frowned slightly as they approached the great gates of Winterfell. It all looked so cold.
Of course, they had sent word long before that they were arriving and truly, Inara wanted nothing more than to take a long hot bath and to lay before a great fire. She truly hoped that Winterfell could at least offer her that. But, who knew. Northerners were so odd.
Her chin lifted a bit as the entourage rode through the gates and only then did she push back the heavy fur-lined hood of her cloak and shake her head - freeing her dark curls. Her eyes narrowed only just slightly as they came to a stop in the courtyard, her gaze moving slowly over those who had gathered and then she was dismounting from her horse, completely ignoring the offered hand of who she assumed was the Master of Horse.
His lords were insistent about marriage. For Jon, there was no other thought than the war to come and he had managed to deflect questions about the future with side steps or outright ignoring it. But the clamor had started to build. It eventually came to a head during one of his audiences, where a number of high powerful lords pressed him about marriage.
They believed that chaos and calamity came when Robb had no heirs left to pass the crown to. That had there been someone else, there might have been a greater sense of security among the North. Jon wasn't quite certain of that, given how quick many surrendered to the Boltons, but it wasn't an issue for him to push. He was resistant to turning his attention away from the Others, but when Davos brought up the possibility of an alliance and armies, Jon started to become more open.
Dorne wasn't currently involved in the struggles for the throne. Their army was rested, well fed and deadly. It would be a trial for them to adjust to the North, but it was some form of hope. It would at least ease the pressure and worry until Jon could find more Houses willing to join this cause.
He hadn't really given much thought to the woman he was now betrothed to marry, not until the days wound down to her arrival. Only then, the sinking feeling of uncertainty coursed through him. This was what Robb was meant to do, not him. How would a noblewoman view marrying a bastard, even if he was king? Would she accept him or look down on him as Lady Catelyn had. Sharing his life, his bed and all other things, it gnawed at him.
Maybe that was why he hadn't bothered to wait in the Great Hall as expected. He wanted a look at her, to get an idea of the woman she was.
He certainly got that when she brushed away his hand, not realizing he was the king. His clothes didn't exactly bestow much regality. He did look like a Master of the Horse. "There's black ice there. Take my hand."
Her gaze flickered to the ground, studying it to see if she could see this black ice the man spoke of. The ground was covered with a slight dusting of snow though and so she truly could not tell. Snow was not something that she was accustomed to.
After a moment, she finally nodded her head and leaned over, her hand taking the man's outstretched one so he could indeed help her dismount. She only held onto him long enough to ensure that she was steady on her feet and then she drew back from him. She did offer him a small smile and inclined her head slightly.
"You have my thanks," she said, her gaze moving over him before she turned to speak to one of her ladies who had joined her from the carriage. Inara couldn't help but smile, obviously amused by the way the woman was attempting to burrow further into her heavy cloak.
"Be sure to unload everything and make sure the wines and produce make their way to the kitchens." Her father had sent much with her to the North. Lemons, olives, pomegranates, blood oranges, spices, and several barrels of different wines.
After a moment, she turned her attention back to the man who had helped her dismount since he was still there and no one else had bothered to approach her. She had heard that the Northmen could be leery of outsiders, but she had expected more of a welcome. She was tempted to demand to know where the King was, but she held her tongue.
"Am I to wait here, or is it possible to go inside and warm up after our long journey?"
Some of the servants were apparently amused with her failure to realize Jon was king. He spied a few hiding their grins behind their hands and frowned at them in return. She hadn't seemed to notice. He hadn't thought much about how he'd appear, but given he wasn't elaborately dressed, in leather that was no different than the Master at Arms, he could see how she might mistake him. Perhaps he should have worn something nicer, but it seemed pointless. They were to be married soon as it was and he'd only be hiding his preference in an attempt to please a stranger.
Jon glanced from her to one of the nearby servants. A young girl stepped forward and curtsied to Inara. "If you please, milady, I'll show you to your rooms?"
He cleared his throat, still uncertain and awkward. No matter how many years passed, he was still the bastard boy of Winterfell, playing at a title that was not really his. "Anything you need or want is at your disposal." That was how this was supposed to go, wasn't it? He formally handed over control of the keep to her? Was this what his father said to Lady Catelyn.
"Alys," he looked back over at the maid. "See the lady is well taken care of."
Inara had just started to turn to follow the servant girl, Alys but then froze. Your Grace? Her eyes widened slightly and for a moment she just stood there. He was Jon Snow? He'd just let her...
She exhaled slowly and then turned to fully face him, her expression serene despite the slight anger that was bubbling up. She dropped down into a graceful curtsy, pleased that she didn't slip on the black ice he'd mentioned. She already felt stupid, she didn't need to look moreso.
"Your Grace, I apologize," she said softly. "It is no excuse, but I did not know." And he hadn't set out to make sure she'd known either. He'd had to have known she hadn't realized.
Rising back up slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "With your leave, I'd like to freshen up. Perhaps if you'd like, we can talk afterwards."
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songofmusebox2021-10-24 07:37 am
You know what this is. ♥
Yet as their paths drew them closer to the home Jon had known from younger years, surrounded by his collective of siblings and the ever well-intentioned Eddard Stark, she could not deny that even in the face of her sometimes most radiant courage, she still felt a degree of uncertainty. It took all of her strength to hold her composure together and to greet those who were his people with a warmth that was not simply diplomatic or political in nature, yet also convincing with slivers of sincerity.
Truthfully, they had not been... unkind. Cold, perhaps. As cold as the infinite winter that held them in secure and stable grasp. That was to be expected and Daenerys did not fault them, though she wondered how she could earn their love rather than their distrust. Alas, an ever ongoing battle that never seemed to end. In spite of her birthright, in spite of the great legacy that followed the Targaryen queen, her path had oft been met with little more than wariness and suspicion, though perhaps in the face of the insanity that had taken the mad king, that too may have been anticipated. Sometimes she too, wondered when Aerys' blood might have touched her.
"You must rest. The journey has been a long one and it will be longer still."
Jorah's reassuring words remained with her, a kindness of his voice echoed between her ears when she finally obtained some moments and breaths of her own. It granted her the clarity to see past her growing self-involvement. At least a touch of such charitable demeanour. Her path was not the only one difficult. Through his devotion to her, Jon had his own adversities to stand against and she knew well enough that she was the catalyst for such things. Had it not been for her, his own position would not be so precarious. She had thought him to sound confident in his own comforting moments, but she wondered how much of that had been truth and how much of it he had said to simply placate her.
She would have no way to know without simply asking it of him and that too came with its own kind of fear that she didn't wish to play into the hands of. At least not yet. So with her moments of what was sure to be momentary tranquillity, she took in the sights of the home from where Jon had come. Truly a pariah and an outcast, a pale-haired queen who looked so very out of place in a land blanketed by snow and ice.
I wonder how many furs it shall take for me to feel warmth. Up here it feels as though even my fire is frozen to its core.
Woo!
Sansa had made some efforts to evacuate the villages a bit further North and relocate the smallfolk here, but it was not enough. By the size of them, she had only focused on the surrounding area. She muttered something to him about food as Jon went below to the crypts to pay respect to Lord Eddard. She didn't follow after, swallowing her complaints for now. He was tired, the journey had been long and there would be a contentious meeting with his lords soon. Already he had seen their angry and insulted looks when Dany's back had been turned. They would have words for him, all centering around his decision to bend the knee and his oath to support Daenerys as Queen. It was at least put off for now as the rest gathered and readied.
Staring up at his father's features, he took a slow breath, trying to think what he might say in such a situation. How Ned would have faced the anger of his people. This was done for a greater good and a true belief that it was the right path, but it didn't make the fallout any easier. He was a bastard before he was once a king. Many of them would see that as an opportunity to attack him, to question his intuition and decision making. It was Robb that was trained to be a leader, not Jon. That fact was likely in their minds. They had chosen the son of Ned Stark that was never meant to hold Winterfell or the North. There had never been a place for him before in the Great Hall, perhaps they were wrong to have made one now.
He gripped and ungripped his hands, letting out a shaky breath. Beyond that, there were the troubles of food, wood and other supplies, both for refugees, armies and Winterfell. What they brought might not be enough. Men would have to take risks in the woods to chop more while other supplies were diverted to Winterfell. He needed a way to bring other families to Winterfell, the Great Houses that might be inclined to wait behind their walls. Their people would be the first targets and then their keeps. Being divided and waiting this out as they would wait out winter was no longer an option.
Seeking once more an answer from his father's face, he returned to the keep. Many servants and nobles tried to intercept Jon, but he kept walking, simply telling them, "Later." There was someone else he wanted to see first.
He had noticed the struggle she had endured on the way to Winterfell and her best attempts to brush aside the coldness when she was received. Daenerys had sacrificed a great deal to follow him on a war that she could have easily prepared for on Dragonstone. She had come with him on simple appeals and pleas, setting aside her own plans to oversee the safety of the North and the realm. But beyond those duties as a queen, he imagined how this might be affecting the woman. The cold reception, the buried hostility, it wouldn't be comfortable for anyone to face and he didn't want to leave her to stew in it for long. Not without his reassurances.
He needed her advice though, her thoughts on what they could do to proceed. That gathering would be contentious and she would have to endure more unkindness. His heart ached, cursing himself for forcing her to undergo this. She was surrounded with those who loved her before, now she would have to contend with icy Northerners. He wanted better for her than this, but still she was here, prepared to face it. It was his fault in the end, his doing that brought her to this painful moment. His selfishness and desperation had pulled her from her rightful path onto his. Worst still, he managed to touch her heart in a more personal way, one that he could not guarantee would be safe. He might well die in this war and he might leave her heartbroken. Another woman that he abandoned for duty and put in harm's way.
He found her room easily. Sansa, in a rare gesture of generosity (or perhaps more rare than he expected) had given her the Lord's chamber. His sister had taken her old room for now, granting Daenerys this much of an honor. The guards placed in front let him enter without complaint or objection. Perhaps he should have knocked, but his thoughts were full of her, needing to see her, needing to ensure that she wasn't angry with him.
Jon paused once the door was shut, shaken by how she might greet him, just as he had been the night he came to her rooms. His fingers clenched and unclenched anxiously, fidgeting as he struggled to find his confidence again. "Dany?"
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There were many things she hadn't been as considerate about, she realised, in hindsight. Not just Jon. The plight of the Others that lingered not far from them. Much the reason she had come. Otherwise, it was likely they would simply devour the north. She needed Jon's people, and they, whether they chose to believe it or not, needed her in turn. One could not be a leader if they had no one and nothing to lead, after all. Although perhaps that could have been contested, given that Daenerys had started with nothing. With less than nothing. She had started little more than a purchased young woman who had clawed her way to the position she was in now. Purely by the grace of the Targaryen blood that simmered hotly in her veins.
It wasn't the door that caught her attention, but rather Jon's direct address. He drew her from both thoughts and the way her stare lingered on the twisting and turning of flames from the fire, the only source of warmth she'd truly felt since her arrival. Her frame turned and for several longer moments, she simply assessed Jon from head to toe, seeing in him stability and comfort. An undeniable draw between them. Love, she suspected, in some fashion, though she suspected he neither needed to hear it, nor she needed to say it.
She read him well. As well as she could, and given that she was an observant and cunning woman, she was certain she'd been around men long enough to know when there were things afoot. Disguised behind well and proper intention, Daenerys dipped her head in an initial, subtle acknowledgement, her hands buried into the furs that lined her, another courtesy she'd been given in her stay.
"What is it?" she asked him then, feeling no need for roundabout games or beating about proverbial bushes. "Is everything all right?"
Not 'everything.' She knew the answer to that. Many things weren't well. Most things... weren't, it seemed. Yet that was entirely the reason they were in Winterfell at present. They weren't all right, but they would be.
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In the end, he didn't know what to say to the personal, only to step closer and take her hand. Small intimacy, but a sign of his feelings and support. "I need to decide what to say when the lords gather. They're going to object." As she well knew. "I have been thinking of my father and what he might have said. They trusted him completely and I need to find a way to convince them to trust me now."
He knew what was really troubling him. "The last time I urged my men to follow me and accept outsiders, they killed me in the courtyard of Castle Black." He doubted highly he would die again, at least by his own men, but that anxiety and fear was still there.
"We need to think about the defenses, how to man them, where to begin planning attacks and fortify the parts of the Keep that are weakest." He sighed, simply unburdening all of his thoughts. "Wood will be important, but we might need to fell a whole forest for that. We don't have the time, but your people need to be kept warm."
He looked at her sadly with a worn expression. Even if he was no longer king, he still had all the of the burdens of one on his shoulders. "What do you think?"
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When he continued, clarified his hesitance, her expression turned and softened, sympathetic to his cause. She had been no stranger to others attempting to kill her, but his own men succeeded. How he can be standing in front of her now speaks of a magic she can hardly know or understand. Perhaps a magic akin to that which both gave and took away Drogo. She didn't dare pry where she felt she didn't need to be, but knew well enough she'd be asking him of it later. Another time. Another circumstance.
"One step at a time," she finally managed to reply, reaching over to take his hands into her own gently.
Everything he said toppled right out of him. If he constantly looked at each and every thing at the same time, he would only overwhelm himself. She had something he didn't—Tyrion and Jorah, advisers. Those with whom she could share her thoughts. Those who would help guide her. In the end, she would not have been where she was without them.
"Express to them rough plans to address defences and fortifying Winterfell. You are not here on your own. I came here to help however you may need it. That does include your people in addition to mine. Mine can gather firewood. I am not above doing what is necessary. You cannot be everywhere at once. I am here to shoulder some of that burden, that you not think you must carry everything in solitude."
Daenerys shook her head at him with just a touch of disappointment, though she understood very well where it came from. His father would have carried all things, she was certain, and without complaint. Although surely he too had someone to share his concerns with...
"Those I brought with me here can also help assist with the defences. We may not be accustomed to the winter, but they will do as they are bid to. We can and will find a way. Perhaps we start with the beginning of all of this, and how to address your people. I am here for you, am I not? We tell them as such. They are as much my people as they are yours. I will care for them as though they are mine."
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He nodded, pressing his brow to hers for a moment before pulling back to meet her eyes. "If we send some of your people to go into the forests, we will need a few Northerners to at least direct them. Your men can take care of themselves, but it's easy to get lost or overrun by bands of wolves." It was still a good idea. It would let some of his people work on simple fortification. "Ser Jorah wouldn't be offended if I we ask him to direct the efforts? You trust him and he knows this land well." Even if he had lived away from the North for some time.
"We should have him present with the Northern Lords." His reputation was tarnished, true, but he was still a Northerner at heart. He might have some sway with his House or otherwise. What mattered was having someone else from the North that added their voice to Jon's, insisting that Dany was the right person to lead them.
"It will be easier to begin assigning certain duties to our people once we meet with them and manage to placate them." Which wasn't something he was looking forward to. "Northerners bent the knee for dragons before, it can be stomached by them." Even if he was likely going to be the Second King that Knelt. "Beyond explaining the reasons, if I do a more public swearing to you, it might do some good. They will hear you vow yourself to look after them and take their interests into account."
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She thought of Jorah and what he might prefer in the north. Perhaps he missed his homeland. Perhaps not, considering he had been disgraced given his history. But perhaps some part of him still longed for the land from which he and his had come. In some ways, Daenerys believed she had felt attached to what she believed was her home as well, even if she was born far from it. Even if it was home only by birthright. Home was more than a place as well. It was an idea. It was people. Locale rarely had anything to do with it.
And by that respect, where was Daenerys' home now?
"No," she replied as she shook her head. "If I ask it of him, he would oblige." Likely without argument at that. Daenerys suspected she could ask nigh anything of him and he would go along with it. Perhaps not without offering some of his advice, but he would still follow the wishes of his queen. She found herself nodding in agreement when he continued. "We should, yes, provided you do not think that would cause difficulty. I understand his relationship with the north is a strained one, at the very least."
Her chin dipped, considering what more he had to present to her. It was pertinent that she thought of all sides. How such actions reflected on him. If something she said or did could represent poorly. Regardless of her own position in things as they were, she could never let down her guard fully. And she could never have Jon thinking that she wasn't acting with him in mind. Even if she didn't necessarily treat him as paramount, he remained a foreground priority. Him and his desires.
"I would prefer it if they did not merely stomach or endure pledging loyalty to me. I am not a tyrant queen. I wish to protect them, to care for them. I must be able to show them so in time. I require their patience and the opportunity to do so. As such, I intend to be as involved as those I have brought with me. Whether that is gathering firewood or attending meetings, I will do as necessary to show my dedication to the cause."
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"There's a lot of work to do, so having you join would be appreciated." He was hesitant to expose her to all that labor, but he knew that she wasn't some delicate flower. She didn't simply oversee things, she endured alongside her followers. It was one of the reasons he respected her as a ruler. She didn't watch from a balcony, she was at their side. "We can at least start with firewood and other provisions. It's nothing too strenuous. Number keeping, distributing, that sort of work."
Which she would be fairly good with, he knew. "What do you think about another public declaration? Something that the Northern lords could witness?" And perhaps come to accept. He'd be the second king that knelt, but it would at least be somewhat familiar for them. Perhaps reminding them of these stories they all grew up with.
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Her head tipped thoughtfully, wondering if she ought to contest that she was capable of more strenuous labour as well, but decided that if such an opportunity came up, she was going to pursue it with or without discussion. It helped that he broke into her thoughts with talk of public declarations. She didn't require a lengthy explanation over what he was implying. Her response was not immediate, instead prying her gaze from his handsomely sculpted face and past him in their solitude.
"Is that safe?" she asked him quietly, realising that there would, undoubtedly, be repercussions for such a spectacle. Not necessarily for her, but again, another situation where if there was to be a line of fire, Jon was very willing to put himself between her and whatever that might have been. She could admire his adamant devotion to her, but at the same time, she'd had plenty of blood on her hands, and Daenerys took very little pleasure in the idea of sacrifices.
There were already so many people she had been unable to save. What if she failed to save him as well? It was a weighted and real concern.
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The ride from Dorne had been long and it had given Inara plenty of time to think about this alliance her father wanted with the newly crowned King of the North, Jon Snow. She had wondered if he still went by Jon Snow or if he had given himself his father's name. But, she supposed that truly didn't matter. What mattered was what he could bring to the alliance. Her father had a great army behind him and plenty of money. She wasn't so sure what the North could even offer them.
She frowned slightly as they approached the great gates of Winterfell. It all looked so cold.
Of course, they had sent word long before that they were arriving and truly, Inara wanted nothing more than to take a long hot bath and to lay before a great fire. She truly hoped that Winterfell could at least offer her that. But, who knew. Northerners were so odd.
Her chin lifted a bit as the entourage rode through the gates and only then did she push back the heavy fur-lined hood of her cloak and shake her head - freeing her dark curls. Her eyes narrowed only just slightly as they came to a stop in the courtyard, her gaze moving slowly over those who had gathered and then she was dismounting from her horse, completely ignoring the offered hand of who she assumed was the Master of Horse.
"Thank you, but I can do it on my own."
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They believed that chaos and calamity came when Robb had no heirs left to pass the crown to. That had there been someone else, there might have been a greater sense of security among the North. Jon wasn't quite certain of that, given how quick many surrendered to the Boltons, but it wasn't an issue for him to push. He was resistant to turning his attention away from the Others, but when Davos brought up the possibility of an alliance and armies, Jon started to become more open.
Dorne wasn't currently involved in the struggles for the throne. Their army was rested, well fed and deadly. It would be a trial for them to adjust to the North, but it was some form of hope. It would at least ease the pressure and worry until Jon could find more Houses willing to join this cause.
He hadn't really given much thought to the woman he was now betrothed to marry, not until the days wound down to her arrival. Only then, the sinking feeling of uncertainty coursed through him. This was what Robb was meant to do, not him. How would a noblewoman view marrying a bastard, even if he was king? Would she accept him or look down on him as Lady Catelyn had. Sharing his life, his bed and all other things, it gnawed at him.
Maybe that was why he hadn't bothered to wait in the Great Hall as expected. He wanted a look at her, to get an idea of the woman she was.
He certainly got that when she brushed away his hand, not realizing he was the king. His clothes didn't exactly bestow much regality. He did look like a Master of the Horse. "There's black ice there. Take my hand."
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After a moment, she finally nodded her head and leaned over, her hand taking the man's outstretched one so he could indeed help her dismount. She only held onto him long enough to ensure that she was steady on her feet and then she drew back from him. She did offer him a small smile and inclined her head slightly.
"You have my thanks," she said, her gaze moving over him before she turned to speak to one of her ladies who had joined her from the carriage. Inara couldn't help but smile, obviously amused by the way the woman was attempting to burrow further into her heavy cloak.
"Be sure to unload everything and make sure the wines and produce make their way to the kitchens." Her father had sent much with her to the North. Lemons, olives, pomegranates, blood oranges, spices, and several barrels of different wines.
After a moment, she turned her attention back to the man who had helped her dismount since he was still there and no one else had bothered to approach her. She had heard that the Northmen could be leery of outsiders, but she had expected more of a welcome. She was tempted to demand to know where the King was, but she held her tongue.
"Am I to wait here, or is it possible to go inside and warm up after our long journey?"
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Jon glanced from her to one of the nearby servants. A young girl stepped forward and curtsied to Inara. "If you please, milady, I'll show you to your rooms?"
He cleared his throat, still uncertain and awkward. No matter how many years passed, he was still the bastard boy of Winterfell, playing at a title that was not really his. "Anything you need or want is at your disposal." That was how this was supposed to go, wasn't it? He formally handed over control of the keep to her? Was this what his father said to Lady Catelyn.
"Alys," he looked back over at the maid. "See the lady is well taken care of."
"Yes, your grace."
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She exhaled slowly and then turned to fully face him, her expression serene despite the slight anger that was bubbling up. She dropped down into a graceful curtsy, pleased that she didn't slip on the black ice he'd mentioned. She already felt stupid, she didn't need to look moreso.
"Your Grace, I apologize," she said softly. "It is no excuse, but I did not know." And he hadn't set out to make sure she'd known either. He'd had to have known she hadn't realized.
Rising back up slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "With your leave, I'd like to freshen up. Perhaps if you'd like, we can talk afterwards."