Within the Pack

by DunktheLunk

Summary:

In a canon divergence in which only Viserys Targaryen was rescued from Dragonstone and taken across the Narrow Sea, an infant Daenerys Targaryen avoids death only by the intervention of Lord Eddard Stark. Dany is taken to Winterfell with the understanding that her future can only lead to one thing: taking the vows of a septa and eliminating any claim she would ever have to the Iron Throne.

Though Dany has survived the ruin of her house, life is far from simple. Though raised among Starks, Lady Catelyn does not allow her children to get close to Dany. So instead, the Mad King's daughter resigns herself to the lonely life of a novice septa. That is until meeting a kindred spirit changes the course of her life at Winterfell and perhaps the future of the realm.

Please enjoy this alternate universe story in which Daenerys Targaryen's fate is tied to that of the Starks of Winterfell as the War of the Five Kings approaches.

Chapter 1: Part One prologue: Eddard Stark

The summer snowflakes falling on Eddard Stark’s face made him feel better than he had in a long time. 

Winter had broken while he and Robert had warred in the south, the winter they all thought had broken that fateful year when they had all gathered at Harrenhal. 

But in the North, the air was still cold, and the snow still fell. It was a good feeling. He had never much liked heat – he had been born a Stark of Winterfell, after all. To feel those flakes melt on his face and in his hair, he knew that he was home.

Winterfell was less than a day’s ride now, by the Kingsroad. He would break his fast in the Great Hall, pray in the godswood, and sleep in the castle warmed by hot water from the earth flowing through its walls. 

I’ll sleep in the lord’s chambers , Eddard thought to himself. It was not a happy thought. The home he was returning to would feel empty by comparison to his childhood. He had no one left but young Benjen, and the wife he hardly knew. But she will bring my son with her. And perhaps we will make more children, and fill the halls of my father’s castle with laughter once again. 

He wished he was more sure. Brandon and Lyanna had always filled Winterfell with laughter. It had not often come so easy to Ned. Perhaps it would come easier to Robb. 

The word had come by the time he had returned to King’s Landing from Dorne. His wife, who he had met but once, had given birth at Riverrun. When Catelyn Tully had written to Eddard while he was on campaign to inform him of her pregnancy, he had sent word that if the child was born a boy, they would honor Robert in the naming. Would I have done the same now? He did not know. 

The bird he received at King’s Landing also informed him that an honor guard would begin the journey of taking his young wife North. Ned intended to be there when Catelyn arrived, and so he had taken ship to White Harbor by way of King’s Landing with his young charges, and given command of his host to Lord Cerwyn to begin the long journey home. 

Only one of the men who had rode to Dorne with Eddard Stark had returned with him as well, and Howland Reed had taken his leave at White Harbor to return to the Neck, taking his secrets with him. With his friends dead, his older brother dead, his sister dead, his father dead, Eddard felt like he was returning alone. 

Except, he wasn’t – not in truth. 

He turned to Ser Rodrik Cassel, riding beside his young nephew, Jory. It pained Ned to see Jory, having watched the lad’s father perish in the south from an expert blow dealt to him by the famous sword Dawn. 

“Lead the column,” Ned commanded. “I am going to ride back to the wheelhouse to see to the children.” 

“Aye, my lord,” Ser Rodrik said, riding ahead. 

Ned doubled back, riding along the column of Stark guardsmen where he spied the wheelhouse. As he rode, his mind was on Robert. King Robert , he reminded himself. 

Robert Baratheon was his closest friend in this world. But the last few months, Ned was not sure he knew the man he had seated on the Iron Throne of Aegon the Conqueror. The laughing boy Ned had known in his youth had grown into a man who seemed comfortable with the murder of children, so long as that murder benefited him. 

Ned had expected Robert to have Tywin Lannister seized when he laid the bodies of Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne, the amount the children had bled concealed by the Lannister cloaks they had been wrapped in. But instead, Robert had smiled. 

Their arguments had gone on well into the night, and had only grown worse when Robert said he intended to offer pardons to Varys, Pycelle, and the knight that the smallfolk had already begun to call the Kingslayer. Jon Arryn had tried to play the peacemaker between the two men, the two false sons he had raised. Robert’s wroth had finally gotten the better of him in the Hour of the Wolf. Tired of Ned’s arguing, he had sent him to break the siege of Storm’s End. 

Ned had done so, and then rode South to investigate the things Ethan Glover, Brandon’s squire rescued from the dungeons after the fall of King’s Landing, had told him. After, Ned had returned to the capital, the news of Lyanna’s death seeming to be water on the fire of their disagreement. They mourned together, spent long nights drinking together and talking of her. Robert never knew her, but he had an idea of her that he mourned. And Ned had no one else to mourn with. It seemed the chasm that had opened between him and Robert had closed.

Until the day she had been brought to court.

Robert had sat the Iron Throne that day, looking as if he wasn’t sure he belonged up there. Ned, Jon Arryn, and Stannis Baratheon sat at the council table below, Jon already wearing the links of golden hands that served as his new badge of office. 

Just when it seemed there may be calm once more between the stag and the direwolf, a grizzled man-at-arms walked the length of the great throne room with a bundle in his arms. 

“The Mad King’s daughter, m’lord,” The old man had said, kneeling before Robert then stuttering. “Er, your grace.” 

“King Aerys had no daughter,” Stannis said to the man impatiently. 

“Not while he lived, m’lords, er, your graces,” The man said, confused at the titles as he looked between the new king and his brother. “Queen Rhaella whelped this one nigh on a week ago. Died in the birthing bed, too m’lords, I’d swear it before a septon.” 

The man had brought other witnesses, other members of the garrison on Dragonstone. Between them all, they got the story out. After Queen Rhaella’s death, men of the garrison began to speak about what had happened to Prince Rhaegar and his family. They had worried the same may befall them if they remained loyal to House Targaryen. Ser Willem Darry had started to realize what was happening, but too late. By the time he made off with Prince Viserys, stealing away into the sea, the traitors had already taken control of the nursery. 

And here those same traitors brought a babe in arms to their new king for a reward. The guileless violet eyes of a Targaryen stared at Ned from the traitor’s arms, only a few tufts of silver hair on her head. 

Jon, Ned, and Robert had discussed the matter all night. It was all the Lord of the Eyrie and the Lord of Winterfell could do to stop the king from having the babe executed. Jon Arryn, prudent as ever, had recommended the girl remain a hostage at court, raised at the Red Keep until she could wed the son Robert would one day have after he married Cersei Lannister. Robert had been opposed to the idea, saying that he would not have his son marry Aerys’ “dragonspawn,” and particularly not Rheagar’s sister. 

Ned had been opposed to the idea as well. Leave the girl to grow up in Robert’s court, and she would die anyway. No doubt some schemer like the eunuch or Lord Tywin would use her as a catspaw for some treason when they grew tired of Robert’s rule. And it was not like Robert would need much convincing when it came to executing the girl for treason. 

Ned had begged Robert to send the Targaryen princess to the Faith, where she could be raised to one day take vows that would mean she could never have a claim on the Iron Throne. Robert did not like that idea either. He did not want Rhaegar’s sister in the same city, over on Visenya’s High Hill. And he did not trust the Hightowers enough to send her to Oldtown and the Starry Sept. 

Ned provided the solution. He had to save the children. Even from Robert. He had to save both of them. 

And so, when Ned begged in his dead sister’s name, Robert relented. 

Ned reached the wheelhouse and moved parallel to it, letting his horse match its pace. There were several guards around it, but he called out to its occupants. 

The wetnurse he had brought with him from King’s Landing opened the door and pushed it back to allow it to remain open while they continued to move. 

“How are they?” Ned asked. 

“Yours is hungrier than t’other, m’lord,” The plump young woman said. “But they’re both drinking plenty. They’ve slept well too, considering the journey.” 

Mine , Ned thought, as he looked at the dark-haired child in the wetnurse’s arms. Jon , Ned had named the child, honoring the man who had been more a father to him than his actual father had been. It seemed fitting. 

The wetnurse bundled Jon Snow up and put him down on the blankets. She picked up the other bundle and held it towards the window for Ned’s inspection. 

“She’s really got them purple eyes, just like they always said them Targaryens did,” The wetnurse said. “She’s quiet for a babe, she don’t make much fuss.” 

Ned looked down on the child Queen Rhaella had named Daenerys Targaryen with her last breaths, who looked up at him once more with those guileless, violet eyes. Good , he thought. Perhaps she will make it after all. 

***

The return to Winterfell had been a blur. He had orders to give, posts to fill, and he had much and more to speak about with Benjen. It seemed that being a boy and the Stark in Winterfell during this war had made his little brother much more solemn. 

Ned had changed as well, and it felt at times that they did not know each other. He would need to make time for him, to remind him that they still had each other. 

But Ned still had his duties. He named Ser Rodrik the master-at-arms, and set him about finding a suitable man to serve as Captain of the Household Guard. He set to sending out the letters to the families of those lords who had died in Dorne, fumbling for words to explain their deaths. 

He had met with the old Septon Orland who had agreed to leave the Great Sept of Baelor, along with a young boy named Chayle and a woman named Septa Mordane. They explored different rooms and towers in Winterfell so that Orland could tell him which place in Winterfell would work best to establish a sept. When Septon Orland asked about Princess Daenerys, Ned corrected the man. 

“She is just Daenerys here,” Ned said. “And a babe in arms at that. It will be some years before she is ready to begin her lessons.” 

At midday the day after their return, word came from Castle Cerwyn that Catelyn Tully – no, Catelyn Stark – was resting there for the evening and would be at Winterfell the following day. 

And if she is half as clever as Hoster Tully led me to believe, she will have many questions about the babes I have brought to her new home. 

For one of the babes, Ned would have no choice but to tell the truth. For the other, he would have no choice but to lie. He was not sure which story his new wife would mislike more. He did not know the woman who came to join him. 

Ned spent that night finishing his appointments. He had been getting to know this Maester Luwin, a tireless man. Ned had been at the Eyrie still when Luwin replaced old Maester Walys, who had served Lord Rickard for so long. 

He found he liked Luwin. He was honest, but not overly-blunt. He was always around when you needed him, but not constantly in Ned’s ear like Maester Walys had been with his father. Luwin had a calm way of explaining himself, and Ned couldn’t think of anyone better to teach his children. 

“My lord, it may be prudent to begin planning a feast for your bannermen soon,” Luwin suggested. “The pretense can be your son’s birth, but in truth I think it would be prudent to let them know you and your wife better. They all expected to be ruled by your brother one day, and it would be wise for them to know who rules them in his stead.” 

Ned saw the sense in that. “Yes, in a fortnight. Let us let Lady Catelyn get settled here first. Has there been word from King’s Landing, regarding the small council?” 

“Yes, my lord, King Robert has completed all of the appointments but one. Lord Arryn is his Hand, as you well know. Lord Penrose has agreed to serve as Master of Laws. Lord Stannis will be Master of Ships, and has already set to rebuilding the royal fleet. Ser Barristan Selmy has recovered from his wounds, and bent the knee. He is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Grand Maester Pycelle will remain in his office, as will Lord Varys. The king is still looking for a Master of Coin.” 

Ned nodded. He would have hoped Stannis would serve as Master of Laws, but Robert and his brother never quite got along as well as they might. Still, it was good news that Lord Tywin Lannister had not been selected to join the council in any capacity – not that Ned believed that proud lord would accept any position other than Hand. 

Together, he and Luwin went about all the tasks of governance that had been left undone while Ned warred in the south. Finally, Ned finished the day by getting to the task he had been avoiding. 

“There is a stone carver that lives near the market square in the Wintertown,” Ned said. “He has known my family for some time. Send for him. I would have him raise statues of my father, brother, and sister for the crypts.” 

“All three?” Luwin asked, knowing it was not common for anyone but the Lords of Winterfell to have such an honor. 

“All three.” 

Bone tired from his day, Eddard Stark climbed the stairs to his lord father’s bedchamber stopping in on the nursery first. The room was dark, as the infants were both meant to be asleep. Jon was sleeping. The tufts of hair sprouting from his head were dark brown, bordering on black. Stark hair. It was a good thing. Had the boy’s hair come in any other color, his life would be much harder than otherwise. Not that it will be an easy life, in any case. He turned to the other child.

Ned looked down on her and her cradle, only the faint glow of torches from the yard through the window serving as light. Daenerys Targaryen was awake. The child was not crying though, she merely looked up at him. Then the babe reached a hand up, and Ned reached down to let her grasp at his finger. She did, and burbled a bit. 

***

The day was grey and cold when Ned rode out south to meet Lady Catelyn and her honor guard. Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin rode with him, while Benjen remained behind. 

When they met her party, south of the Wintertown, Lady Catelyn was riding atop a chestnut courser, not in a wheelhouse or wayn. That was good. Ladies in the north did not have the luxury of being weak, and a southron lady who wished to make a good impression on her new people would ride out to meet her lord. Clever indeed . 

When he looked upon that face for the first time since Riverrun, all the same feelings came back to him that he had felt on his wedding night. When he was still a boy at the Eyrie, the idea of marrying, let alone lying with, a woman as beautiful as this would have made his head spin. But he could not savor the fact that his wife was so comely – not when his brother’s death was the only thing that brought her to his bed. 

Her face was so fair, especially when framed with that long auburn hair. Her high cheekbones gave a noble look to her face. Her eyes were a blue so deep that he felt half a boy again when he looked into them. Her pretty face was a pinkish color, flushed with cold. Despite his conflicting feelings of guilt, he found himself wanting to be the one who warmed her. 

“My lady,” Ned said, dismounting as Catelyn did the same. She curtsied for him. 

“My lord,” She said courteously. “It pleases me to look upon your face again.” 

Family, duty, honor – the words of House Tully. No doubt it was those words that brought the lie to her lips. Eddard Stark was as much a stranger to her as Catelyn Stark was to him. He took her hand and kissed it. 

“I welcome you to the North, Lady Catelyn,” Ned said. “It is my hope that you will come to think of my lands as home.” 

“Thank you, Lord Eddard,” Catelyn said, and turned to call for a servant. The woman emerged from a small covered wayn, carrying a bundle in her arms. She handed the bundle to Catelyn. 

“It is my honor to present you with your son and heir, Robb,” She said, sounding truly pleased. She held the child out for him, and Ned took in his arms the boy who would one day rule all the North.

He had her hair, and her eyes. He was robust, and looked hale and healthy. Ned could not stop the smile that broke across his face as he looked down on this son of his. 

“I hoped that he would please you, my lord,” Catelyn said, smiling as she watched Ned hold Robb.

“I am sorry I could not be by your side for his birth,” Ned said. “I hope it was not too strenuous on you, my lady.” 

“Not more than was expected,” Catelyn said, and stepped closer to Ned, putting a hand on his arm as she looked down at the child as well. “It is my hope to give Robb plenty of brothers.” 

The young woman so close to him, his wife, speaking of making more children with him stirred feelings inside Ned. It had been nearly a year since they had done their duties in the marriage bed, nearly a year since Ned had lain with a woman. He found he wanted it, wanted to take her back to Winterfell, tumble her into bed, and forget about all he had seen and done in the last year. 

But honor dictated that he must tell his wife of the babes already in the castle, and he did not think it would make her feel much warmth towards him. So instead, they returned together to Winterfell, and the first place Ned took his new wife was to the nursery. 

Catelyn Stark was a hard woman to read, as she stood there, looking back and forth between the two cradles. 

“The boy was born on campaign,” Ned said. He had practiced it so many times in his head, and still it felt wrong – and certainly shamed him. “I beg forgiveness for the dishonor I have done you. It was not right to father this child.” 

“You…you have a man’s needs,” Catelyn said, staring down at Jon as she said it. But the words did not seem earnest – it seemed like something she thought she was supposed to say. Family, duty, honor . “I am…surprised to find the child is here at Winterfell.” 

“Where else might he be?” 

“Many lords throughout the realm have natural children,” Catelyn said, looking up at him with a look that cut. “All men know that King Robert has a baseborn daughter in the Vale. But she remains in the Vale, not at King’s Landing, nor was she ever seen at Storm’s End.” 

“He is my responsibility,” Ned said, feeling his anger rising. She would compare me to Robert? 

“As you say, my lord,” Catelyn said, anger in her tone. “And you wish to raise him alongside our children?” 

“He is a bastard,” Ned said, sensing her discomfort. “Snow he will be called, not Stark. But he is my blood, and he will know his kin.” 

“As you command,” Catelyn said. Ned saw her stare down at Jon for a moment more, then her face contorted with what was undoubtedly anger. She turned to look down at Daenerys Targaryen. 

“King Robert has commanded that she is to be raised as a novice of the Faith?” Catelyn said. “Winterfell keeps the Old Gods, she is in an odd place for that.” 

Ned felt relieved to be on the topic he could be honest about. 

“There was no other way, my lady,” Ned said. “King Robert wanted her head. No doubt there are those in Dorne or in the Reach who would use her to oppose Robert. But he trusts me. If this child had gone anywhere else in the realm, Robert would be seeing Targaryen shadows on every wall, until he had Lord Varys invent some pretext to have this child killed.” 

Catelyn pursed her lips. “And so she is to be raised here at Winterfell as well?” 

The tone his wife used implied she was holding back her true feelings about the situation. 

“She will be raised by the septon and septa I brought from King’s Landing,” Ned said. 

Catelyn stared down some more and picked at her own hand before finally turning in a swirl of skirts to look at Ned. 

“May I speak freely to you, my lord?” Catelyn crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Always. You are my lady wife.” 

She raised an eyebrow at that. “You want your natural son to be raised amongst our own trueborn children, fine. You are lord of this castle, and I will not speak against that choice, no matter how I may feel about it. But you know that this Targaryen girl must be different, yes?” 

Ned did not understand. “What do you mean?” 

“My lord, you have brought danger into our home before we have even begun to build it. Do you not see? Like you said, men throughout this realm would use this child for their own ends, powerful men. With armies and spies and catspaws. Her brother lives, I’m told, and has been taken across the Narrow Sea. He will grow into a man in need of an heir, or given he is a Targaryen, a wife. If he should land in Westeros with an army at his back, it will be your responsibility to take this child’s head. If King Robert decides he no longer trusts you, and orders her dead, you will need to take this child’s head. If this child comes to understand enough about who she is to scheme on her own, you will need to take this child’s head. If King Robert decides he simply wants the child dead for no other reason than he hates Targaryens, you will need to take this child’s head.” 

Ned felt cold over, and flexed his sword hand. “I am aware,” he said, not as strongly as he would have liked. He was aware, but he did not like to think of it. “What of it?” 

“I mean to say – if our own children grow attached to this girl, if you grow attached to her, you will be stuck between your desire to protect this poor, orphaned child and obeying your king. If our children come to think of her as a sister, they may care more about protecting her than in protecting House Stark’s relationship with the crown. You must see what has to be done my lord, you must see that this babe is poison to the most important advantage our house has compared to the other Great Houses: King Robert trusts you.” 

Ned did not know what to say. Clever indeed , he thought, thinking of Hoster Tully. Daenerys Targaryen would live a hard enough life, even without him compounding it with a lonely life. 

“You mean that she should not be raised as a ward, but as a true hostage,” Ned said. 

“Yes,” Lady Catelyn confirmed. “She must be. It is cruel, I know, but I must think of Robb. I must think of our son, and the other trueborn children I pray will come after him. If you truly care for this girl’s safety, and the safety of House Stark, Daenerys must be a novice of the Faith, nothing more. She must not be treated like a highborn ward. She must not be allowed to grow close to our children. And if it were to be otherwise, word would get back to King Robert, and to your bannermen. You must see that your lords would never accept you dutifully raising the daughter of the man who has done so much ill to your family as one of your own. And Robert will assume we cannot be trusted if you do.”  

Ned looked down at Daenerys. She was sleeping now, fitfully, as if she were dreaming of something. Ned Stark felt sorrow as he mulled over the words of this stranger who was his wife. And what felt worst about those words is the truth in them. 

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You are right, my lady.” 

***

Ned felt ill as he delivered Daenerys to Septon Orland and Septa Mordane. He explained that he would send for another wetnurse to feed the child, but that she would no longer share the same one that Jon Snow and Robb would have. 

Septon Orland and Septa Mordane looked perplexed but accepted the command with courtesy, and vowed that they would find space for the child among their own apartments. They attempted to update Ned on the construction plans for the new sept, but he was in no mood for such conversations. He gave his pardons, and then took his leave. 

He found himself seeking his own gods then, his feet carrying him to the godswood, the full weight of all that had happened suddenly seeming overbearing. 

The air was crisp in the small forest within Ned’s castle. Leaves were beneath his feet and above his head, and night was close to falling as he fell to his knees in front of the heart tree. 

He tried to think of what to pray for, and thought of his own father kneeling beside him years and years ago, when Ned was just a boy. Lord Rickard had taught his son that it is only right that he first thank the gods for the gifts that he had been given before asking more of them. He thought of Robb then, and then of the fact that Jon Snow was safe and alive when it could have so easily been otherwise. 

“I thank you for my son, Robb,” Ned said aloud. “For blessing me with a healthy heir to rule after I am gone.” 

He raised his head, then bowed it again. I will not lie to the gods and call him my son.  

“And thank you for allowing me to bring Jon safely home, so that he may live in this place that Lyanna loved so very much.” 

He thought then of the discontent that Catelyn had already shown at the idea of raising a bastard alongside his trueborn children.

“Let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them,” He prayed, thinking of Robb and Jon, and of his own brothers. “And let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive –” 

The wind whistled loudly then, the leaves of the tree shaking so much that he stopped his prayer…and it seemed to Eddard Stark that for the briefest moment, the wind had called out to him – he could not hear all of it, but he heard his brother’s name. Brandon , the wind had seemed to whisper. 

Ned frowned at the tree for a long time. For the briefest moment, the fear he felt made him feel as young as a child. But he was no child. He was Lord of Winterfell, and he had killed men, had killed knights of the Kingsguard. He shook off the childish moment of fear and bent his head again. 

“Let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive me, not only for what she thinks I have done to dishonor her, but for the deception I am putting her through now.” 

The wind did not answer this time, so Ned asked another boon. 

“And please protect Daenerys Targaryen. Watch over her, in the sad life I have saved for her. And please, help her to understand one day. And to forgive.”

Chapter 2: Maiden's Day

PART ONE: THE NOVICE

The dream was more vivid than anything Daenerys Targaryen had ever experienced. 

That fact, coupled with the images she was seeing and the fact that she was fully aware she was dreaming but could not wake herself, scared her more than any dream she had ever had. 

She walked through a dark tunnel, deep underground, in a place she had never been – only heard about. Dany carried a candle with her as she walked. The stone lords and stone kings watched her as she did, and they all seemed to have the same expression, an expression she had seen so many times before. 

Lady Catelyn had often given Dany that look – it said “This is not your place. You do not belong here.” She clutched the candle more closely to her. 

At the end of the hall were the statues she feared the most. The newest statues. She made herself look at them, waving the candle over the first. When Dany saw, she knew it was not right. 

Where Lord Rickard Stark should sit, sat the statue of a man who’s clothes, skin, and hair barely clung to him. It was a statue made in the likeness of a man who had been burned alive – after the burning. To his right was his son and heir, Brandon Stark. The handsome face had an open mouth, gasping for air, as a leathern noose was fully constricted around his neck. 

And to the left of Lord Rickard was Lady Lyanna, beautiful. But she was lying down, as if on a bed, a pleading look on her face.

Suddenly, the sight of them was overwhelming to Dany, and she whirled and ran, dropping the candle and plunging headfirst into darkness. She ran, not caring that she could not see what was ahead of her, ran from the works of House Targaryen. Until she tripped. 

There was the feeling of something scaly, something alive as her foot hit it, and knocked her to the earth. It was pitch black, but she heard the lightest hiss. She recoiled. 

A small burst of fire appeared in the corridor, illuminating all as it puffed and then went out. For the briefest moment, Dany saw it. And was no longer afraid. She crawled towards it, and another burst of fire appeared before her.

A white dragon with dark red eyes looked back at her, small as a puppy. Its scales were trimmed with silver. It cocked its head as it looked at her with eyes as red as the dragon on the Targaryen banner. Dany smiled at the dragon. 

She woke suddenly with a start, tangled up in her bedclothes. The room was dark, cold. The embers had gone out in the hearth but Dany knew this place. My bedchambers . 

The loud snore of Septa Mordane that burst suddenly from the bed across the room confirmed it. She sighed in relief. There was no light coming through the window, it wasn’t even morning yet. 

The rooms set aside for the servants of the Faith of the Seven here in Winterfell were comfortable, but sparse. Utility outweighed comfort for servants of the Faith, Mordane had told her once. The small chamber she shared with Mordane was across the hall from the small chamber where old Septon Orland and his novice Chayle, a man of some seventeen years, were likely sound asleep as well. 

Dany would need to try and get more sleep, but she found herself drawn to the window of their bedchambers instead. The lightest snow was falling out there.

It was the second year of summer, and the tenth of Dany’s life. Winter had not had them in their grip for some time, and yet the summer snows still fell on the ancient stronghold of House Stark. She could see men walking the battlements of those grey granite walls. 

Perhaps I do not wish to go back to sleep because I do not wish for tomorrow to come, she considered. 

Today was a day that came every year, but that Dany had come to loathe. It was the one day a year she could not simply forget who she was and try to ignore it. No, days like today were like when Lord Eddard held feasts: it would be impossible to forget that she was Daenerys Targaryen today. 

She had lived in Winterfell all her life, though it was an odd home for her, all agreed. When she was six, Lord Umber and his household came to Winterfell to visit. Two of his younger sons had sought her out in the Sept, and gasped in amazement at the sight of her violet-colored eyes. Daenerys had been confused at their shock. 

“We just didn’t believe it,” Ned Umber said, the younger of the two said. “The Mad King’s daughter, here at Winterfell.” 

They had left without explanation, and so Daenerys had asked Septa Mordane what they meant. That had been the worst day of her life, the day Septa Mordane told her who her father had been. No wonder these Starks hate me as much as they do , she had thought. 

Septon Orland had told her more, kindly explaining to her that she is not her father or her brother. When she had asked what he meant, she had also learned the awful truth of what Rhaegar Targaryen had done to Lyanna Stark, and the war he had started. Targaryens had been kings of Westeros for centuries, but they must have not been very good kings, because the lords of the realm had thrown them aside in favor of King Robert, who everybody seemed to love. 

And since nobody trusted the Targaryens, it must be that nobody trusted her either. That was why she had to become a septa – septas never hurt anybody. Once, after that day, she had asked Septon Orland what would happen if she decided not to be a Septa. And Septon Orland explained that King Robert had commanded she become one, and the king could not be denied. 

Daenerys had spent the years since feeling nothing but guilt about her house. No wonder Lord and Lady Stark had commanded that Daenerys would take her lessons from Septa Mordane separately from their daughters. No wonder she did not ever sit up on the high table during feasts, as might have befit a girl of her birth. No wonder the Starks seemed to hate her. Lord or Lady Stark never seemed to speak to her unless they had to, and their children turned the other way when they saw her coming.

That was what she thought, until Chayle brought her the book a couple months ago. 

“You must not tell,” Chayle had said. He was the closest thing she had to a best friend, as the two of them had been raised alongside each other as they worked towards taking their vows one day. 

“Lord Stark may even have me sent to the Wall should he learn. Finish this one, but only read it when Septa Mordane is giving lessons to the other children. And hide it. Tell me when you have finished this one and I’ll bring you another.”

Fire and Blood, the first volume, a treatise by Archmaester Gyldayn on the history of the Targaryen kings of Westeros. There were evil Targaryens, that was for sure. The history of King Maegor’s reign made her shudder, as did some of the deeds of King Aegon II and Queen Rhaenyra. But there was glory as well. Aegon the Dragon, Jaehaerys the Conciliator, Good Queen Alysanne. And dragons , so many dragons. Targaryens rode dragons . 

“Why did you show me this?” Daenerys asked Chayle when they were alone. The blonde septon-to-be looked around as if someone might be watching. 

“You deserve to know,” Chayle said, treating her like a little sister as he always did. “There’s nothing wrong with you because you’re a Targaryen. Targaryens were men, and men are capable of evil and good, some a bit of both.” 

For a long time, Daenerys thought those revelations would make her feel better. But they only served to make her understand her situation. She was a hostage of King Robert’s closest ally, and they were raising her to ensure that she would one day swear vows to keep her from playing any role in the politics of the realm. She was a princess, but she would never be treated like one. Instead, she would learn under Septon Orland and Septa Mordane until her fourteenth or fifteenth nameday and take vows. 

And the Starks would never be any more than her gaolers. And yet somehow, she could not stop that desire so deeply rooted inside of her – that desire to be one of them. 

***

When the sun finally came up, Dany began to dress in the white robes of a novice of the faith. It was a demure, unadorned outfit that she had worn nearly every day of her life. The only ornament it included was a small necklace with a long chain with a seven-pointed star at the end. 

Septa Mordane rose at dawn just as Daenerys did, and knelt at her bedside table, where she had a small carved icon of the Crone. The septa said a silent prayer while Dany ensured that she made her bed from the night before. Finally, Mordane rose. 

“I looked in on your preparations before I retired last night, Daenerys,” She said as the two took the winding steps down from their apartments to the Sept. “You did better on the scrubbing, the Sept looked better than it has in some time. Though it is always wise to add more candles to the Maiden’s altar before a day like today. I added four or five more for you.” 

“Thank you, Septa,” Dany said courteously. Mordane was a firm but not unkind teacher. Though, when Dany was insolent or willful, she could be a fury to behold. 

Outside the Sept, Septon Orland stood with his long white beard, Chayle at his side. Orland leaned against his cane.

“Good morrow to you both,” Orland called. He was a fatherly, kind man who always had a smile for her. He was the leader of their small contingent of the Faith that existed here in this land of the nameless gods of the forest. “The Sept is prepared for you, Daenerys. I am told Lady Catelyn will bring her daughters shortly.” 

The Septon looked at her with that uncomfortable look he got when he spoke of this topic. “Lady Catelyn has asked me to remind you that –” 

“I am not to make conversation with Lady Sansa or Lady Arya,” Daenerys repeated. It was the same as last year. “I am to be courteous, but not familiar.” 

“Yes,” Orland said, glancing down. He made to change the subject. “Have you been fasting?” 

“Yes, Septon, since midday yesterday,” Dany said dutifully. Maiden’s Day required maidens to purify themselves through fasting, and spend much of the day in the Sept. Men and women were barred from the sept, only maidens were allowed to enter. 

Septon Orland took Septa Mordane aside to speak with her and Chayle moved to stand beside Dany. 

“I’ve got a new one for you,” The youth whispered. “Nothing too exciting this time, just a book on the history of Dragonstone.” 

Dany couldn’t keep the glee out of her voice. “That’s perfect.” She hugged him. “Thank you, Chayle.” 

Dragonstone had been where Daenerys Targaryen had been born, and she had wanted to know more about it ever since she learned how important of a role it played in her family history. 

“I hid it better this time, I hope you’re up for a climb,” He teased. She returned his smile. But as she looked towards the door to the Sept, she frowned again. 

“Why can’t the sept be in the Wintertown?” Dany said anxiously. 

“What?” Chayle said, confused by the question. 

“Why do I have to live within Winterfell? The Starks do not want me here. Today is the day that is clearer than any other.” 

Chayle sighed. “King Robert has commanded Lord Stark to look after you. You would be less safe in the Wintertown.” 

“King Robert has commanded Lord Stark to keep me as a hostage,” She corrected, feeling her anger rise. “And in the Wintertown, there are those who would kill me just for being a Targaryen.” 

Chayle’s face went serious. “Yes, yes there are. And I for one am glad you are safe within these walls. Come now, Maiden’s Day is not so bad. Lady Sansa and Lady Arya are children. Kneel quietly near them and pray to the Seven. Lady Catelyn will not make them stay long.” 

“Yes, you’re right,” Dany said, trying to take his advice. 

“And, when you’re done, go read about Dragonstone,” He said in a quiet tone, then messed up her hair a bit. 

“Chayle!” Mordane cried and ran to fuss with the silver locks of the tight bun that she had worked so hard on. “Off with you to the libraries, Daenerys needs to go to the sept.” 

Chayle bowed respectfully, hiding a grin as he always did when he upset the Septa, and went off to the libraries. Mordane and Dany walked towards the doors of the Sept, where a Winterfell guard was posted to ensure anyone not allowed in the Sept on Maiden’s Day – women, crones, girls without virtue, boys, men – would know not to enter. It was the slow one, the one Palla the kennel keeper’s girl called “Fat Tom.” It was not like anyone would try – Dany, Sansa, and Arya were the only maidens in the castle who kept to the Faith of the Seven, and the Stark girls only did because their mother did. 

Halfway through the yard, another group approached. A proud, handsome woman in a dark gray gown, a shock of auburn hair falling to her shoulders. Two little girls, as different as moonlight and sunlight, trailed behind her. 

Sansa was seven, almost always clutching to her mother’s leg with big blue eyes and auburn hair, a pretty girl. Arya was another story. At 4, she would often be indistinguishable from one of the boys of the castle, always running about and asking people questions. Once, she had found her way to the chambers Mordane and Dany shared, and asked “Who are you?” when she saw Dany. No doubt that was why she had come – Arya was often staring at Dany where she sat at feasts with Orland, Mordane, and Chayle down amongst the benches while the Starks sat at the high table. But Septa Mordane had quickly ushered Arya back out before Dany could answer. 

That had probably been for the best — what would Daenerys say? I’m the Mad King’s Daughter, your father’s prisoner. Yes, that same Mad King who killed your grandfather and uncle. And, oh yes, my brother kidnapped and raped your aunt. 

When Catelyn Stark saw Dany and Mordane across the yard, she stopped for a moment, though still far away from them. Mordane and Dany stopped as well, before Mordane urged her on. Clearly, Catelyn Stark wanted her children to enter the Sept separately from Dany, as if the taint of her family’s crimes and the treason of Daenerys Targaryen’s mere existence might pass to one of them if they stepped too near to one another in a doorway. 

Anger clutched Dany’s heart and she looked down, ashamed, afraid to meet Lady Catelyn Stark’s disapproving look. 

“Remember, just pray, Daenerys,” Mordane said to her as she departed at the door to the Sept. Dany obeyed, and found her way to a small bench in front of the altar of the Maiden. The painted likeness of a beautiful young woman stood before her, hair blonde and eyes blue. 

Soon, Dany heard the quiet sound of the Sept doors opening behind her. She looked down and put her clasped hands to her face. But she let herself peak from the corner of her eye, glancing through a barely opened eyelid as Sansa and Arya Stark found their way to the opposite Dany. 

Sansa was leading Arya by the hand. Arya stopped at the door as if she did not want to pray, but Sansa urged her on and whispered angrily at her. “Mother said!” 

Dany closed her eyes and ignored their presence, ignored the loneliness of her life, and the idea that it would be nice to be friends with girls like these two, girls around her own age. 

She closed her eyes then and prayed for what Septa Mordane had always instructed her to pray for. Peace in the realm, the prosperity of the crops, warding off famine, warding off illness. She could not find it in herself to pray for the safety of King Robert, as Septa Mordane always wanted her to do. 

She felt the bench creak as Sansa and Arya knelt on it as well. Dany peaked from under her eyelid again and saw Sansa had positioned herself between Dany and Arya. 

Sansa lit two candles, one for her and Arya and bowed her head to pray. Arya was peering at Dany with a furrowed brow. 

She tried to ignore the Stark girls, and started to pray again. Keep peace in the realm. See to the prosperity of crops. Ward of famine. Ward of illness. Keep the king safe…

Dany shook her head and prayed a different prayer. Let the king die. Let everyone forget who I am. Let me live a different life. 

It felt so good, so daring, so exciting to finally ask for it. It was wicked, she knew. But it was just in her head. 

Let me have a friend, She prayed. That was the prayer she actually prayed more often than any. 

“I want to ask her –” Dany heard little Arya say to Sansa. 

“Shut up! ” Sansa insisted. 

“But she does not look dangerous,” Arya insisted. 

Daenerys Targaryen felt her heart fall into her chest. Dangerous. They think I will hurt them, as my relatives hurt theirs. Tears welled in her closed eyes, but she did not feel sadness in truth more than she felt another feeling – rage. She wanted to be dangerous. She wanted to hurt them for thinking she would, she wanted to hurt Lady Stark and Lord Stark and all their stupid children, and King Robert and all his lords. She wanted to be a dragon, and to give them all a reason to be truly scared. 

And then she felt ashamed all at once. And the sadness came in, and a desire even greater than those desires. A desire to turn to Arya and assure her she was not dangerous, that they could be friends and she might join in the games the other children played in the yard. That she could come to their lessons with Maester Luwin and the other highborn children. That she could be their friend. 

Tears streamed down her face as she kept her eyes closed. The precocious little Arya Stark noticed. 

“Why are you crying?” Arya asked, and Sansa swatted at her arm. 

Daenerys did not respond. She was not to make conversation with Lady Stark’s daughters.

***

She prayed for a few hours more and then left to finally break her fast. She had some bread and cheese in her apartments while Septa Mordane tested her on various prayers from the Seven Pointed Star. Daenerys got each one right, and Mordane was pleased. 

Dany needed to get the prayers all right, because that was the only way Mordane would let her go for a walk in the godswood. When she asked if she could after she got each prayer right, Mordane gave her a smile and relented. “Be back by sundown,” Mordane reminded her. “And keep to yourself.” 

The sun was lower in the sky so Dany put on her simple woolen cloak and wrapped it about her gown as she headed out for the gate that opened on the godswood. It was late afternoon. 

As she crossed the yard, there was a clacking sound towards the north side of the yard. Two boys, as different as Sansa and Arya played at wooden swords. They laughed as they chased each other about.

“I’m Prince Aemon the Dragonknight!” The dark-haired bastard boy that looked so much like Lord Stark cried as he drove to attack his trueborn brother, who looked so much like Lady Stark. 

“Well, I’m Florian the Fool!” Robb Stark cried as he deflected. Then he saw Daenerys and got distracted momentarily. He was always staring at her, not in the way Arya was, but in a way like he did not want her to notice. She found it somewhat annoying. If they are meant to leave me alone, just leave me alone.

His brother whacked him on the arm with his wooden sword as Robb got distracted. Jon Snow that brother was called, and he seemed to have about as much interest in Daenerys as a dragon might have for a horsefly. Daenerys found she resented them both, and was not sure why. There was another Stark child, a baby named Brandon she rarely saw. Another Stark I will have to make sure I do not speak to, she thought bitterly. She kept on towards the godswood. 

Dany was pleased to find she had the vast acres of the godswood to herself. She made her way towards the heart tree, where she knew Chayle would have hidden her newest book. 

When she arrived at the great weirwood’s base, its carved face seemed to watch her. Once, she had been afraid of it. But she had been in this godswood enough times to know that it was just a carved face, no scarier than the painting of the Stranger in the sept. She gave the watching eyes a smirk, and began to search for branches she could cling to as she climbed. 

She looked up into the red leaves as she gripped white branches and saw a bundle – something wrapped in a brown roughspun blanket, about fifteen or twenty feet up. She climbed on

Soon Dany had the bundle in hand, and nestled into a particularly leafy part of the tree where she might not be visible to anyone who might come walking about in the godswood. That should give her some time to read about the place she was born without disturbance. 

And read she did. Dany could almost picture the dragon-like towers and keeps of this great black castle. Then she read about the castle’s lords – learning more and more about the Targaryens who had lived there. She wondered how much more at home she would feel if she wore on Dragonstone. 

Denizens of Winterfell came and went to say whispered prayers to the heart tree. Dany tried not to listen as washerwomen or guardsmen or men of the garrison came to say their prayers – those were not hers to listen to. She simply continued reading her book. 

The sun began to hang lower in the sky as time went on, and she knew soon she should go back to Septa Mordane, but she did not want to. As the sun began to set, she once again had the godswood to herself. 

As she read of Dragonstone, she also read about why the Targaryens went there – of the Doom of Valyria and of Daenys the Dreamer, who she had read briefly about in other Targaryen-related books. This book went into more detail on her and her dreams though. Prophetic, was the word they used. That the details of the Doom had been predicted by Daenys long before it actually occurred. Dany kept reading. 

Daenys was not the last of the Targaryens to have such dreams, the book read. Throughout the Targaryen rule of Westeros, some Targaryen princes and princesses reported having such prophetic dreams. 

Daenerys Targaryen looked up at that, thinking. She shivered as she thought about her dream last night, and how vivid and real it felt. The dragon . 

Suddenly a twig snapped below. She looked down to see a boy around her own age with a wooden sword in hand. His other hand was clenched in a fist. His hair was dark, his face was long. Jon Snow . 

Snow approached the heart tree and looked up at it. He had a look of great anger on his face, but there were also tears streaming down it. He stared at the heart tree’s face for a moment, then tossed his wooden sword at it in anger. Then he knelt down and buried his face in his hands, sobbing loudly. 

Dany did not know what to do – or that she should do anything. Why was he crying? She found she cared more than she ever thought she would. She leaned forward, trying to see if perhaps he had sustained some sort of wound in his and Robb’s mock swordplay. 

But as she leaned, one of the branches around her snapped loudly. She kept her place among the branches and did not fall, but the noise alerted Jon Snow who looked up at the tree with suspicion. 

He saw her. 

Dany gasped and tried to climb higher in the tree.

“What are you doing up there?” Jon Snow called up to Dany with an authoritative and suspicious voice. 

He sounded nervous, and angry – embarrassed to have been seen crying, most like.

“I was –” Reading, Dany almost said until she remembered that Septon Chayle could be in great trouble for giving her this book. “Nothing.” 

“Spying on people?” Jon accused. 

“No!” 

“What, then?” He squinted. “What is that in your hands?” 

She tried to wrap the book quickly in the roughspun blanket but the motion made her lose control of her position within the tree’s limbs and suddenly she and the book were falling, bouncing against branches as she did – luckily they slowed her fall, but once she was past the branches nothing but open air was beneath her. 

The ground rushed up to thud against her. It hurt, but in truth not as much as she thought it might, only knocking the wind out of her so that she was left gasping on the ground. To Jon, it must have looked more like she was injured. 

He let out a breath and said “Oh, gods!” 

The bastard ran to where she fell, and knelt above her. “Are you alright?” 

Dany felt her breath come back and nodded, “I’m…yes, I’m alright.” She looked up and the book had caught in the branches and not followed her to the ground. 

“I thought maybe you broke a bone,” Jon said, a concerned look on his face – the anger that he had when he had first seemed her seen replaced with concern. His eyes were still puffy from his crying. 

“I thought I was going to,” She said with a small laugh. Then she put a hand over her mouth as she realized what she was doing. “I…I am not supposed to talk to the Stark children.” 

A dark look passed over Jon’s face, and he looked like he may get angry again. But he did not. It turned into a sadder look and he stood and offered her a hand. 

“I am not a Stark,” He said as he pulled Dany to her feet. “My name is Snow.” 

“I know…I am sorry if I gave offense,” Dany said, feeling foolish. 

Jon looked up and noticed her book. He went and collected his wooden sword and jumped a few times with it in the air until he was knocking the book from the branches. He caught it, and before Dany could take it from him looked at the cover. 

“That’s all? Why did you not want me to see this?” 

Dany felt miserable. She knew if anyone found out she had the book, it would get back to Chayle. Would Lord Stark really send him to the Wall just for helping me read a book? 

“ Please , you cannot tell anyone. I am…not supposed to have it.” 

“Why not?” Jon asked quizzically as he leafed through the pages. “What is so bad about a book?” 

He glanced up at Dany and seemed to look at her pleading face with understanding. 

“You know, Lady Stark has forbidden me from talking to you as well,” Jon said suddenly, looking up. His smile turned somewhat mischievous, and he held the book out to her. “But I don’t care what Lady Stark says. Or what Robb says or what anybody says any more.” 

Dany was taken aback by that. She reached for the book. “You won’t tell, then?” 

Jon looked resolved. “No.” 

Relief passed through her and suddenly she hugged him. Jon Snow did not seem to know what to do, and kept his hands out to his side while she hugged him. Dany pulled back when she realized what she was doing. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, feeling stupid. “My name is Daenerys.” 

“I know,” Jon said. He studied her. “Your father was the Mad King.” 

Dany studied her feet. Something about that made anger flow through her, but she suppressed it and simply nodded. She felt embarrassed, and suddenly felt the desire to embarrass him back. 

“You were crying,” Dany said. It was not a question. 

“I was not,” Jon insisted. He did look ashamed, and Dany felt ashamed for wanting to make him feel that way. 

“You do not have to lie…I cry sometimes.” 

“You’re a girl,” He said, kicking at a rock as he refused to meet her eyes. 

His long face was so somber, and though he looked like Lord Stark so much, there was a melancholy to this boy all his own that bordered on sullenness. 

“What does that matter? I bet your lord father cried when his kin died,” Dany said, with a confidence she did not understand. She wanted more than anything to know why Jon was crying, to make him feel better. Perhaps she just wanted to show him that a Targaryen could help and not hurt.

“Perhaps but…no one has died today,” He said, looking ashamed. 

“I cry sometimes just because I’m sad,” Dany said. Jon looked at her. His grey eyes seemed to be calculating, thinking about if he could trust her. When they looked in hers, there was a moment of astonishment. 

“Your eyes really are purple,” Jon said. It made Dany blush for some reason. 

She nodded, and it again felt somewhat embarrassed. 

Jon looked confused for a moment – she must have shown her embarrassment on her face. “I…I did not say that was a bad thing.” 

He looked up at the position of the sun in the sky.

“Come here again tomorrow, around mid afternoon,” Jon said suddenly. “I will tell you why I was crying.” 

Dany was shocked. No, I cannot, she almost said, knowing Septa Mordane and Lady Stark would never under any circumstances approve of Dany fraternizing with the Stark children. But then she thought about Jon’s words. My name is Snow.  

“I will,” Dany said, searching him. “But I usually see you playing swords with Robb around that time.” 

Jon looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t want to play swords with Robb any more.” 

At that, Jon Snow turned on his heel and walked out of the godswood.

Chapter 3: The Bastard of Winterfell

She had the same dream again, the next night. 

Though it was not quite the same dream, as it went on. Again she walked through the Stark crypts below Winterfell, a place she had only seen by dream. But this time she was not afraid. She was glad to be back, and was looking for something. The dragon , a voice within her said. Dany walked deep into the old crypts, searching. 

She passed by Lord Rickard Stark and his children, their bodies twisted horrifically as they had been the night before. She walked past them, glancing at each statue. You did not kill them, the voice whispered. 

Past them she saw Stark lords she did not recognize. As she walked passed a tall, hard lord from a few generations before Rickard, she heard it. The cry. It was a high-pitched noise, a hiss. 

And then there was the light. Sitting atop the large stone coffin containing the old Stark lord’s remains was the small, white dragon. It looked at her again with those red eyes and cocked her head. And she awoke. 

***

The next day felt like the most wicked of Daenerys Targaryen’s entire life.

She had not told anyone what had happened in the godswood – not even Septon Chayle. He was kind to her, but he was too dutiful to keep something like that a secret. Books were not a bridge too far for him, but disobeying direct orders from Lady Catelyn regarding interaction between Dany and Lord Stark’s children was. 

So, she did what she could to hide a smile while she, Chayle, Septa Mordane, and Septon Orland sang together in the sept. Then she had her morning lessons with Septa Mordane – the kind of lesson she would need to be prepared to teach when she was a septa one day. They were often focused on domestic tasks such as sewing and needlework, but today they were studying heraldry again. Daenerys found herself squinting at innumerable devices on innumerable shields, some of which she remembered, some of which she did not -- to Mordane’s dismay. 

In the afternoon, when Septa Mordane went off to see to the Stark girls for the day, Dany sat with Chayle as Orland interpreted a parable from the Book of the Maiden. Chayle asked questions and Orland made thoughtful faces as he answered them and stroked his white beard.

Through it all, Dany felt like she could barely pay attention. She had a friend her own age who she would get to see later today. Perhaps he could teach her about the games she had seen the Stark children playing together from time to time, or tell her about what swordplay was like. She did not care what they did, she was just so pleased to get to have a friend . 

But as the day went on, a different kind of feeling started to form in Dany’s stomach, a feeling that she knew well. Fear . She was sweeping the sept when suddenly she truly considered that Jon Snow was Lord Eddard Stark’s son. Her father, the Mad King, had killed Jon’s grandfather and his uncle. Her brother, Prince Rhaegar, had kidnapped and raped his aunt. She was a Targaryen . The last Targaryen. King Robert and all his subjects hated them so much that they intended to ensure she was the last of her line. 

She replaced used candles from the altars of the sept as uncertainty swirled in her gut. What if after he got to know her, he too realized why so many people disliked Targaryens? 

These fears disquieted her greatly, but were not enough to dissuade from the chance of having a friend. In the late afternoon, Dany went to Septa Mordane and showed her the progress on a stitching Dany was making that showed the likeness of a seven-pointed star. The septa complimented the needlework, and pointed out a few areas where there could be improvement. As a result, when Dany made her plea to go walk in the godswood, Septa Mordane agreed with her usual refrain of “keep to yourself, and be back before nightfall.” 

Dany went to the room she shared with Septa Mordane before she left and smoothed out her hair, made sure her white novice’s gown was unblemished, and adjusted her crooked necklace with the seven-pointed star about her neck. She tried her absolute hardest not to take the stairs two at a time as she descended towards the yard. 

The day was cold as only a northern summer could be, or so she had been told. She had never felt what the seasons were like anywhere else in the world, never so much as traveled half a mile from Winterfell. As she walked through the yard, she saw Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole, the steward’s girl, sitting by the well and giggling about something. They did not look up as Dany passed, thank the Seven. 

When Dany entered the godswood, she was mostly alone. The big stableboy Hodor was bathing in the steaming black pool beneath the heart tree, and a washerwoman was praying nearby. Dany went deeper into the wood, looking for Jon. She searched for some time until she found him sitting on a mossy rock with a book on his knee in the far western corner of the wood. 

He looked up at her as she approached and called out a hello. Dany put her hands up to shush him. 

“Not so loud, I do not want us to get caught,” Dany said. “I know you said you are not a Stark but I still do not think Septa Mordane or Lady Catelyn would approve of us meeting like this.” 

Jon lowered his voice. “Right. Well, I’m glad you’ve come, Daenerys.” 

“You can call me Dany,” Dany said quickly, stupidly. Jon cocked his head. “I mean, that is what Chayle calls me and he is my friend. Not Septon Orland or Septa Mordane though.” 

 “Do your other friends call you Dany too, then?” Jon asked. Dany blushed and looked down at the dirt. Jon was a perceptive boy, and seemed to instantly understand, and tried to recover. “I, er – my father’s friends call him Ned even though his name is Eddard. Since I’m your friend I would be happy to call you Dany.” 

Dany tried not to show how much his words made her heart soar. “You are named after the Hand of the King, yes? Jon Arryn?” 

“Yes,” Jon said with pride. “A great man, father says, though I have never met him.” 

Jon seemed to suddenly remember the book on his knee. “Oh, I brought this for you, since you seem to like books. I don’t read a lot, but this is my favorite book.” 

He handed her a red book. The Conquest of Dorne, the cover read, and below those words: King Daeron I Targaryen . 

“The first Daeron. They called him the Young Dragon, didn’t they?” Dany asked. She had seen Daeron mentioned in a few of the books she had read but had not read much about him specifically. 

“They did -- he conquered Dorne at only fourteen years old,” Jon said, grinning. Then he looked down at the book and scrunched up his long, Stark face. “But you probably know all about him. He is your ancestor after all.” 

“I…” Dany started, about to feel bad about not knowing, but then reminded herself that she was with a friend. She had dreamed of having a friend her own age, and remembered hoping that one of the benefits of having a friend would be that you could admit things to them and not be embarrassed. So, resolutely, she admitted: “I know nothing about the Young Dragon.” 

Jon’s mouth went wide and then he smiled. “Oh, but I know everything about him!” 

For the next half hour, Jon Snow began to tell her an animated recounting of the Conquest of Dorne, speaking of Lord Oakenfist and the Submission of Sunspear. At different points, Jon stood and swung a stick-sword about as he reenacted certain battles, jumping from rock to rock. When he did little voices to make his portrayal of certain historical figuresmore realistic, Dany giggled and watched on, even if the voices were not very good.  

Finally, out of breath, Jon sat across from her in the grass and explained that it was the second Daeron that actually made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms, but only because the Dornish had betrayed the first Daeron and murdered him. He looked a little sad at that part. 

“When I am fourteen, I will be nearly a man grown, but I am going to do something great like the Young Dragon,” Jon said, looking thoughtfully over at the trees. Jon Snow was talking a lot, talking in a way that made her wonder if he was often listened to by his family. She did not mind -- she had spent all her life without a friend to listen to. 

“Like what?” Dany asked, curious. 

“I am going to join the Night’s Watch like my Uncle Benjen, and be a ranger,” He proclaimed. “Then I’ll probably kill some wildling king who means to come down on the realm. Maybe I’ll even be First Ranger one day. That’s the ranger who is the best fighter in all the Watch. My uncle Benjen is next in line to be First Ranger.”  

“Septa Mordane told me that the men of the Night’s Watch never marry or have any families,” Dany said, wondering. “You would not want to wed?” 

Jon scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “The Young Dragon never wed, he was too busy warring.” 

“Yes, but surely he would have if he had lived,” Dany pointed out. “He was the king of all the Seven Kingdoms, and would have wanted for an heir eventually.” 

“He was a Targaryen, he had a name to give a son,” Jon said firmly. “I am a Snow. I will leave the weddings and such to Robb while I am busy protecting the realm from wildlings and the Others.” 

Dany nodded at that, though she was not sure that Jon’s argument made much sense to her. She was promised to the Faith, and so she would never wed, just like the men of the Night’s Watch. The thought always made her sad. If she wed, she could have a husband and children -- a family. Dany had never had something like that before. 

“Snow seems as good a name to me as Targaryen or Stark,” Dany shrugged. Jon looked at her queerly at that. 

“It is a bastard’s name,” He looked sullen now and looked down to crack a few twigs between his hands. 

“Targaryen is a trueborn name, but it is not like it has done me much good,” Dany said, giving him a sad smile. “I don’t mind if you’re a Snow if you don’t mind I’m a Targaryen.” 

Jon nodded and looked pleased by that. Then he looked up at her and back down. “That is kind. Robb called me a bastard yesterday. That is why I was crying.” 

Dany opened her mouth to speak, but Jon read her mind. “I know, I know. I am a bastard. But…Robb had never called me a bastard. We were just playing at swords, it was a game like always. I said I was the Lord of Winterfell and he told me I could not ever be the Lord of Winterfell because I’m a bastard.” 

His face was angry, but there were tears in his eyes as he recounted it. “His stupid mother, Lady Catelyn said that to him. Plenty of folk have called me bastard before. But not Robb…he’s my friend my…” 

“Brother,” Dany finished. She looked at Jon’s sad, grey, Stark eyes. 

“Half-brother,” Jon corrected. “Anyway, I just never thought he’d call me a bastard.” 

Dany did not know what to say to that. She could tell Jon was sad and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But she did not know how. That had never been in one of Septa Mordane’s lessons or in one of the stories from the Seven Pointed Star. In fact, the Seven-Pointed Star forbade premarital relations in part because of bastards. That would be no help. 

“I’ll bet Lady Catelyn was really the one saying that,” Dany supplied, though she did not know if it would help. “I have seen you and Robb playing, he is truly your friend.” 

She was not sure why she was defending the heir to Winterfell. Jon mulled that over. 

“Lady Catelyn does not like me at all,” Jon said, and it was clear the fact was a painful one to him. “I don’t know why.” 

Dany thought about that for a long moment. “Maybe she is afraid you’re better than Robb, more fit to be Lord of Winterfell one day. You look more like a Stark than Robb, and I see you beat him all the time when you are drilling at swords.” 

Jon seemed to perk up at that, and seemed to be glad to hear her words. “But I cannot be Lord of Win--” he started, but Dany cut him off. 

“No, but I read about the fourth King Aegon once. He had lots of bastards, and on his death bed he legitimized them. A king can do that, you know. And so they all became Targaryens, and he seemed to like one of them more than his own trueborn son, because the bastard son was the better swordsman. Then there was a war because other lords agreed with him.” 

“The Blackfyre Rebellion, Maester Luwin taught us about it once,” Jon said. “What of it?” 

“King Robert is your father’s friend,” Dany shrugged. “If he asked to legitimize you, the king would probably do it. Maybe Lady Catelyn is afraid Lord Eddard will love you better because you are the better sword.” 

Jon thought about that for a long moment and shook his head. “My father would never disinherit Robb.” 

“Perhaps not, but maybe Lady Catelyn is still afraid. I bet that is why she said that to Robb. Maybe you should forgive him.” 

Jon thought about that and then said, “You know, Maester Luwin told me once that bastard children grow up faster than other children. I notice things Robb doesn’t. He might not have even known how it would have made me feel.” 

Jon chewed on his own words for a moment and looked up at Dany. “Maybe you grow up faster than other children, too. You seem to notice things. You have the right of it, I think. About Robb.”

Looking down at her dress to fidget with her necklace, Dany wondered if she was blushing. 

“Would…would you want to meet here again tomorrow after you and Robb are done with swords, if you play again I mean?” 

“What would you want to do?” Jon said, cocking his head. 

Dany did not know what to say. Keep having a friend?

“We…we could talk more, or play a game,” Dany said, trying not to let the fear that this might be the last time enter her voice. Jon, again, seemed to notice.

“Of course,” He said. “Let’s meet here again tomorrow.”

Chapter 4: The Crypts

Jon stalked through the trees, knocking leaves off the branches with his stick-sword. Dany lay on the soft grass with her hands behind her head. 

It was a pleasantly warm day, and the two children had just finished a game they had made up the last time they met, involving trying to see who could toss the most acorns over the high walls of the godswood. It had been five weeks since first they met here in the godswood, and they met here every day since. 

Jon had forgiven Robb and set to playing swords with him each afternoon again, and when he was done he went to find Dany in their accustomed spot. Today, Jon’s face was set in that sullen cast he always got, his long features more scrunched and his eyes set in that angry, confused look they got on days like today. 

“Have you ever gone with them on such a trip?” Dany asked Jon. 

“Never,” Jon answered back in a bitter tone. “Not even when my lord father rides off to see Lord Cerwyn, and his castle is less than a day’s ride from Winterfell. I would have liked to see White Harbor is all.” 

All the Starks, even baby Bran, had left this morning so that Lord Eddard might visit with his bannerman, Lord Wyman Manderly. Half the guards and servants of the castle went with them, making Winterfell feel unusually empty. Even Septa Mordane had gone with them to look after the Stark girls. 

Dany did not mind. Septon Orland was looking after her while Mordane was away, but he was an older man and often spent most of his time reading from the Seven-Pointed Star. Chayle had not given Dany any trouble when she had said she wanted to spend most of her day in the godswood. 

Dany sat up, found an acorn in the grass, and threw it at Jon. It hit him on the arm and she said: “If you went to White Harbor, who would keep me company?” 

He grinned as the acorn bounced off him and held up his practice sword. “Throw another.” 

She did, and he tried to hit it with his sword but missed. He hit it on the second attempt, sending it sailing across the godswood as both of them laughed. 

“See, who needs White Harbor?” 

She said it in jest, but also to try and get Jon out of his black mood. Dany knew his family’s abandonment of him had hurt him more than he was willing to say. 

“It’s just…” Jon started, sitting cross-legged on the grass next to Dany. His grey eyes looked sad, but they usually did. “I know they did not take me because I’m a bastard, that’s all. It is the same when some lord comes to visit and my father feasts them. I always sit with Lord Stark and his family above the salt most of the time, but not when Lord Umber came to visit last year.” 

I don’t sit at the high table ever, Dany might have said. And my father was the king of all of Westeros. 

“You and I both know Lady Stark is at the heart of that,” Dany said, sitting up on her elbows to face him as they spoke. 

“I know, it’s just…at times it feels like I have a family at and other times I don’t,” Jon said with confusion in his eyes. 

It was one of those things Jon said that Dany rarely knew what to say to. It had become clear to her in this short time that they’d known each other that Jon had kept these thoughts and feelings tightly concealed within himself. It made Dany feel undeniably special that he shared them with her.

“Sometimes I pretend Septon Orland, Septa Mordane, Chayle, and I are a family,” Dany said. The only thing she ever seemed to know to say in these times is to try and relate to Jon with her own life. “When we all eat together in the apartments above the sept – I pretend Orland and Mordane are my parents and Chayle my brother.” 

Jon looked at her with those eyes that always seemed to perceive more than his mouth ever said. Dany felt heat on her cheeks at the admission and looked down. 

“You know, my Uncle Benjen says the other men of the Night’s Watch are his brothers, though they all had different parents,” Jon said. “I asked him how that could be, and he said they were brothers in their shared duty, and their oaths. Perhaps that could be what it was like for you and me.” 

Dany smiled – the idea seemed silly, they weren’t members of the Night’s Watch, particularly not her, as women could not join the Night’s Watch. “What oath shall bind us?” 

Jon scrunched his face up again. “I’ll have to think about that. Oaths are not something taken lightly.” 

He stood again and picked up his stick sword. “Throw another.” 

Dany smiled and threw another acorn, and it sailed right past his head as he ineffectually swatted at it. Dany could only laugh. 

It was a better day than they often had – with Mordane and the Starks gone, Jon and Dany were little-supervised, so they stayed out until the sun had passed below the horizon and the stars came out. 

“Did you have the dream again?” Jon asked her as he stood on one branch of a nearby sentinel tree, trying to reach a higher one. Dany sat parallel to him in the branches, already comfortable with the height she had climbed to. 

“Yes, it was the same as before,” Dany said. “Except, I was less afraid. It was like I was supposed to be there.” 

“From what you told me, it certainly sounds like the crypts,” Jon said. She had left out the parts regarding the conditions of Lord Rickard, Brandon, and Lyanna Stark. “All the Stark dead are down there. Did you know there is a King Jon Stark buried down there? He was King in the North before Aegon’s Conquest and chased some pirates off of the banks of the White Knife, then built an old castle there. That castle is still there, at White Harbor. This was before the Manderlys.” 

“I don’t know if I saw his resting place when I was down there,” Dany said. Sometimes she had to stop Jon before he got to rambling about some long dead hero, even if she liked to listen to his tales of valor and honor from time to time. “The dragon was sitting near one of the stone boxes that holds remains, closer to Lord Rickard’s. The statue wore no crown – so I think it was some lord from after the conquest. How many times have you been in the crypts?” 

“Just twice,” Jon said. “Father took us all down there once to pay our respects to his father and brother and sister. Then once Robb dared me to sneak down there. He thought I’d be afraid, but I wasn’t. In the end he was afraid to come in after me.” 

Jon seemed proud of that fact. Dany thought more about the dream. “Mayhaps you might go down there again, if I have the dream again and can tell you more of what to look for.” 

Jon considered that and opened his mouth to speak, but then there was a shout from another part of the godswood. 

“Daenerys?” The shout called. It was Chayle’s voice, Dany knew. She looked at Jon with wide eyes and pointed upwards, indicating that he should climb higher so he was not seen. “Dany, where are you?” 

Dany slid down to a lower branch then another until she was dangling above the ground. She let go and landed on her bare feet, feeling the grass between her toes. Chayle was stepping into the clearing near the tree they had been climbing. 

Chayle was a fleshy, pink-faced youth of some ten and six or ten and seven years. He moved his straw-colored hair out of his face and grinned. “What, are you some sort of squirrel now? What would Septa Mordane say?” 

“You’re the one who put my book in the tree that time. And Septa Mordane will never know if no one tells her ,” Dany pointed out. 

Chayle laughed. “Fine, but Septon Orland is looking for you. It is time for supper.” 

Dany nodded and the two of them left the godswood, and she glanced back at the sentinel tree, trying not to be disappointed she did not have time to say farewell to Jon. 

*** 

That night, Dany had her room to herself with Mordane gone, and so she flipped through one of her favorite storybooks, reading tales of knights and fair princesses that always seemed to need to rescue. Septa Mordane only let her read the book after she had read for a few hours from the Seven-Pointed Star, but tonight she could read as much as she wanted. 

She lay under the covers in her nightgown, reading as the candlelight dwindled behind her. She fell asleep with the book on her chest. An hour or so later, she woke with a start just as the candle had guttered out. She stretched in the moonlit room, her neck slightly sore from sleeping in an awkward position. 

Dany gathered up the book, closed it, and put it on her side table…and saw a shape in the corner of the room. A shadow . 

Daenerys Targaryen froze, gripping the top of her coverlets. Flight or flight instinct set in and she wondered if she was still asleep, dreaming. But it felt real . 

“Ch-Chayle?” Dany whimpered. 

There was a response from the shadow, who stepped towards Dany a few inches. Moonlight flowed in through her window, and slightly illuminated the shape. The face was odd – it looked dark and stiff, more like the face of a Weirwood than a person’s face. It seemed like the shape was wearing a hooded robe. 

“I mean you no harm, Princess,” The shadow said. A woman’s voice, lighter than a whisper. 

Princess , Dany thought. No one ever called her princess. It was treason to call her princess. She was not a princess, she was a novice septa, a hostage promised to the faith. 

“Who are you?” Dany asked, trying not to sound afraid. I am the blood of the dragon, she reminded herself to try and remain brave. “What are you doing in my room?” 

“I mean you no harm,” The voice said again. “I come to guide. And to warn.” 

Dany did not know what to say. “I don’t –” she started. She was still scared. I am the blood of the dragon . “You’d better tell me who you are or I’ll scream and the guards will come running.” 

Dany did not know if it was true. There was always at least one guard posted near the Faith’s apartments in Winterfell, but half the guard had gone with Lord Eddard to White Harbor. 

“I would be gone before they arrived,” The shadow woman said with absolute certainty in her voice. She went on. “A dragon is not meant to remain enclosed by stone walls. Your past and your future lies below, with the dead wolves. To go up, you must first go down.” 

Dany felt as though she knew what this shadow was talking about. “The crypts?” 

The shadow said nothing for a long moment, and then simply repeated: “To guide and to warn.” 

“What does that mean?” Dany demanded, her voice louder than she intended, scared but impatient. 

“Beware the begging brother, his path will only lead you farther from home,” The shadow said, not making any sense this time. “The false, golden son will want your blood.  The false, black-clad son will want your truth. The true, wolf son will want your heart.” 

“I…I don’t understand,” Dany said. “Who are you?” 

“The wolves can nurture, the pack will protect. But wolves bow before dragons, but must be reminded. The pact must be fulfilled.” 

There was a sound outside Dany’s door and she glanced at it. When she looked back to the place the shadow had been, it was gone. 

The door had not opened, nor had the window – the only two exits from the room Dany and Septa Mordane shared. There was no way that the person who had been there could have left. 

The door opened, and Septon Orland and Chayle stood together, both in their bed robes, Chayle holding a candle. They looked at Dany curiously. 

“Daenerys?” Septon Orland asked. “We heard you talking aloud, is ought amiss?” 

“There was…” Dany started. Someone in my room , she might have said. But had there been? It did not seem like it was possible the more she thought about it.

Then another thought crept into her head, a darker thought. I am the Mad King’s daughter , she remembered. 

“I had a nightmare,” Dany said finally, trying to convince even herself that it was true. “I must have been talking in my sleep before I woke up, nothing more.” 

Chayle and Septon Orland exchanged a look. “Are you sure?” Chayle asked. 

“I am fine, I just need to get more sleep,” Dany said, but the memory of the shadow still frightened her. “Chayle…might you sit outside my door for a bit in case I have another nightmare? I might sleep better.” 

“Of course,” Chayle said, and picked up Septa Mordane’s copy of the Seven-Pointed Star and grabbed a chair from the writing desk. 

“You have early duties, Chayle,” Septon Orland reminded him in his soft voice. 

“Just until she gets back to sleep, Septon,” Chayle insisted. 

“Thank you,” Dany said as Orland departed, closing the door. She could see the light from Chayle’s candle still seeping under the doorway, calming her. 

But sleep still did not find her, for many hours. She tossed and turned, thinking about the shadow’s words. 

*** 

The next day, Dany waited for Jon beneath the heart tree a little after midday. She stared into the eyes of the weirwood as it wept sap. 

It had not been the face she had seen last night, in truth. It only reminded her of that face, frozen like wood. A part of her wanted to tell Jon everything about the nightmare, as she had been calling it in her head. But a part of her knew it was not a nightmare, that it had happened outside of sleep entirely. And that, she could not share. 

I am the Mad King’s daughter, she reminded herself. 

Jon strode in, still sweaty from his early-morning bout in the yard. Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms in Winterfell, had not gone with the Starks on their sojourn to White Harbor, meaning Jon had more time to get specific attention from the old knight. 

“Sorry I am late, Ser Rodrik was showing me a shield technique that –” 

Dany cut him off. “I want you to take me to the crypts.” 

Jon looked at her as if she were a wildling. “The crypts? Did you have the dream again?” 

“No,” Dany said firmly. “But I want to go all the same. I want to find out whatever is causing me to have this dream.” 

“We, we are not supposed to…” Jon started. 

“We are not supposed to talk at all,” Dany reminded him. “And I need it to be you. Who else could take me? You have been before and you were not scared, not like Robb.” 

Dany knew that would move him. Jon seemed to stand a little taller at that and nodded. “Aye, I can take you. But I’ll need to get some things, some candles and –” 

“Yes, but we must go today,” Dany insisted. Somehow she knew she was not meant to wait any longer. 

Jon nodded, seeming both excited and nervous about the prospect. He bid her to wait in the godswood as he went off to gather what he needed. 

He returned within the hour with a satchel filled with candles. Then he explained to Dany how to get to the crypt’s entrance, as they would need to go separately in order to avoid being seen together. Dany set off first and followed Jon’s instructions: she crossed the lichyard, went past the oldest part of Winterfell near where the First Keep lay in ruins. This section of Wintefell was seldom trafficked, but guards on the inner walls may still see her, and a word in the wrong ear may get her caught in this escapade. So instead, Dany sat near a pile of stones out of sight, a few feet away from the ironwood door that Jon said led to the crypts. 

After a half hour, Jon joined her there, and gestured silently for her to follow. With great effort, the boy opened the heavy door, which protested with a loud and steady creak until Jon’s pulling revealed a staircase going down, pooled in shadow. Suddenly, Dany was nervous again. 

She looked at Jon, who did not immediately make for the staircase. It was clear he was not entirely unafraid of this expedition. Dany had hoped to draw strength from his bravery, but would need to draw it from herself. I am the blood of the dragon, she reminded herself. 

“Would you hand me a candle?” Dany asked, her voice even. Jon handed her one from his satchel and Dany lit it, holding it in her hands. Jon did the same with another candle, and Daenerys and Jon descended slowly. 

It had been a cool day in the yard of Winterfell, but below the ground it was cooler. As she felt the temperature change, Dany realized that she had felt that cold before. In the dream . She shivered, but reminded herself of what the shadow had said. To go up, you must first go down . 

Jon was looking at her as they descended those stairs. “Do you really think that…” 

“No,” Dany said, somewhat defensively. “I know that there is no dragon down here. But perhaps there is some answer to my dreams that I might find. Either way, I am not afraid to look.” 

Jon said nothing further as they entered the crypts. It was dark, cold, and the vaulted ceilings were only barely lit by the light of their candles, making the crypts look truly cavernous. They walked for a time until the rows of statutes began. 

Except for the first statues, every one showed a Stark lord or king sitting with a sword across his lap and a stone direwolf at his feet. The first one showed Lord Rickard Stark, Eddard Stark’s father, in the same manor, but he was not alone. A lordly young man and a pretty maiden were shaped in stone on either side of him. 

“My uncle Brandon,” Jon said, gesturing to the young man. Then he stopped and looked at the woman. “My aunt Lyanna.” 

Dany felt terribly uncomfortable to be here, among these three. In the heavy stone containers the statues sat near, the bones of three Starks lay. Three Starks who were dead before their time because of House Targaryen. 

“Does your father miss them?” Dany asked Jon, though she did not know why. 

Jon looked up at Lyanna for a long moment, then seemed to realize Dany had asked a question. “He does not often speak of it. And when he does it is to recall some fond memory.” 

“Do you think…” Dany started again. “Do you think he hates me, as he must hate my father and my brother?” 

Jon looked at her queerly now. “Dany, my father…” Jon looked down at her feet and back at her. “He is not the kind of man to blame a child for what the child’s father did. He has spoken of King Aerys, but only to talk about the war. He has never spoken of Rhaegar.” 

Jon looked back at Lyanna at that, and looked at Dany. “You are not your father. Or your brother.”

It was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her. Dany stepped a bit closer to Jon and then suddenly she was hugging him fiercely. He accepted the hug with all the grace a ten year old boy could. But after a second, he was embracing her more closely as well.

“Thank you,” She whispered to him. “I had not had a friend before you.” 

Jon simply hugged her back until he pulled away slightly with an awkward smile. “Shall we…go on?” 

Dany nodded. “I think the dragon was on the tomb six or seven statues down.” 

They walked and Jon named statues as they went. Lord Edwyle Stark. Lord Willam Stark. Lord Beron Stark. Lord Brandon Stark. Lord Jonnel Stark. 

Finally, Jon pointed to Lord Cregan Stark. Dany did not need to be told about Lord Cregan – of the Starks of Winterfell who influenced the histories of the Seven Kingdoms, he had been the foremost. One of her most famous ancestors, Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, had called him the finest swordsman he ever faced.

He was a tall man with a great beard and long hair, according to the man who sculpted his likeness. He was huge, taller than most of the other Stark statutes. Dany looked at him for a long moment. 

“I…I am not sure what I hoped to find,” Dany said. 

“Are you sure this is where you saw the dragon in your dream?” Jon asked. 

“Yes,” Dany said, with a certainty that she did not understand. She thought of the shadow woman again, the whole reason she had come down here. 

A dragon is not meant to remain enclosed by stone walls, the shadow woman had said. Dany knelt beside the tomb and pressed a hand against the stone that contained the bones of Lord Cregan Stark. 

It was warm to the touch. 

She gasped and looked up at Jon. “Feel this, Jon, put your hand on the stone.” 

Jon did as he was bid and then gave her an odd look. “I don’t feel anything.” 

Dany felt mad. “It’s warm , Jon, you must feel it, don’t you?” 

“I…it feels like a stone tomb,” Jon said. 

Tears welled in Dany’s eyes. The Mad King’s daughter , she thought to herself. The shadow woman, the warmth, the dreams – she was mad, she must be. She didn’t care. 

She put her candle down and pressed two hands against the heavy stone lid of Cregan Stark’s tomb. Daenerys Targaryen dug her heels in and pushed. 

“What are you doing ?” Jon asked, aghast. Dany did not answer him. The stone was heavy and it did not yield an inch as she pushed against it. 

“Help me,” Dany begged as she pressed against it. 

“No!” Jon shouted now. “This is not right, to disturb the dead like this, it’s…it’s…”

“Madness, I know,” Dany said, out of breath as she feebly pressed against it. The stone lid wobbled slightly but did not move. “Please, you are my friend, please Jon, believe me.” 

Jon stood, looking at her like she was mad as tears streamed down her face now, the stone rubbing red marks into her hands as she tried with all the strength she had to push it. 

“Others take you,” He said, annoyed and put his hands on the same side of the stone lid, right next to Lord Cregan’s statue and digging his own heels into the stone direwolf at his feet.

After what felt like hours, they were able to push the stone lid far enough that a corner of the tomb was open. An old, musty miasma blew out of it and Dany waved her hands about to disperse the dust. 

“What in gods name are we doing?” Jon asked. He was angry now. Dany was looking down into the tomb, ignoring him. She said nothing, just looked down. He moved over beside her. 

“Dany, this is –” Jon cut himself off as he looked down to see what she was seeing. 

Inside the tomb, next to the large skull of Cregan Stark was a large, white, oval-shaped stone, trimmed with silver. Except, it was not a stone. That was clear after more than a few seconds of looking at it. 

It was an egg.

Chapter 5: Third of his Name

She spent the entire next night looking at it. 

Dany sat awake in her room, a candle lit on the floor as she sat, looking at it. It gleamed in candlelight and anytime Dany put her hands on it, it was warm to the touch. 

With Septa Mordane still gone with the Starks, she could stay up all night and look at it. It was hers , she had decided. Why else would she have the dream? 

I am not mad, Dany revelled. I am like Daenys the Dreamer and my dreams come true. 

She still did not know who the shadow woman had been, but found she did not care. Daenerys Targaryen had never felt more whole in her entire life. When she held the egg in her hands, she knew who she was. 

I am the blood of the dragon . 

She did not only stay up and look at the egg. Dany had asked Chayle to bring her back the first volume of Archmaester Gyldayn’s Targaryen history Fire and Blood , pretending she had simply wanted to read it again. 

Dany scoured the book that night, and found three instances in which a dragon had visited Winterfell. The first two were Vermithor and Silverwing – the dragons of King Jaehaerys the Conciliator and Good Queen Alysanne. But considering it was Lord Alaric Stark who hosted them during that visit, Dany did not think it was one of their dragons who left this egg. 

Of more note was the dragon flown by Jacaerys Velaryon, eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, who came to Winterfell at the outset of the terrible civil war known as the Dance of the Dragons. The prince had flown to Winterfell on the dragon Vermax. 

And Gyldayn had even made note that a dwarf named Mushroom, who had been close to Rhaenyra and her family, claimed that Vermax had left a dragon egg or dragon eggs at Winterfell during this visit. This was only mentioned in passing by Gyldayn, and within the context of saying it was not true. The archmaester also doubted that Prince Jacaerys had fallen in love with a bastard sister of Lord Cregan’s named Sara Snow. Mushroom had even suggested that the prince had wed the bastard girl. 

Gyldayn noted that the dragon Vermax had been male as an explanation as to why he doubted the dragon had left an egg behind. That made some sense to Dany, but then she wondered if only female dragons laid eggs. She didn’t know. To know more, she would need a copy of Septon Barth’s Dragons, Wyrms and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History to see if a male dragon had ever laid a dragon egg. It probably would not also hurt to read Mushroom’s account in greater detail in The Testimony of Mushroom. 

Not only were those books not likely to be in Winterfell’s libraries, it was unlikely Chayle would procure them for her even if they were. The first was a book denounced by King Baelor, the beloved septon king, and the second was known to be filled with all sorts of lewd tales. 

Had Prince Jacaerys truly lain with this bastard girl? Dany mused as she ran her hands along the warmth, feeling the scale-like surface of the egg. Had he indeed left Vermax’s egg as a parting apology for the dishonor of bedding her and abandoning her? 

Dany would never know, in truth. All she knew is that the egg had called to her. And she had found it. And yet, she knew the chances of a dragon hatching from it seemed small. Targaryen kings with more resources and knowledge than her had failed to hatch eggs. Dragons were gone . 

But I am not , Dany thought. 

She knew that represented danger though. If King Robert knew that she harbored a dragon’s egg, it would mean her life. 

Somehow, Daenerys Targaryen found she did not care. 

*** 

Dany watched from the steps of Winterfell’s small sept as the Stark family and their large escort of guards rode into the yard. 

Lord Eddard looked tall and imposing atop his warhorse, Robb looking small on his gelding. The young heir to Winterfell had his mother’s auburn hair and her piercing blue eyes. And everywhere he went, he seemed to try and puff out his chest and act older than his years. 

The girls and baby Bran rode with their mother in a covered wayn nearby. Dany saw pretty Sansa and bony little Arya step out, then Lady Catelyn. Her lovely face always seemed to make Daenerys nervous. She had barely ever spoke to the woman, but even seeing her from across the yard made Dany feel her breakfast swirling in her gut. 

Septa Mordane finally disentangled herself from the party and came over to the sept. Dany curtsied for her. 

“Daenerys,” Septa Mordane said. There was a look in her eyes that made Dany feel like she was happy to see her, that she had in fact been missed. “I hope you were well whilest I was away. Did you keep to your prayers?” 

“Yes, septa,” Dany said. 

Mordane nodded with that serious look she always had. “I have brought books for the library from the sept at White Harbor, and some letters from the Most Devout for Septon Orland regarding recent doctrinal decrees. Have you kept the sept clean?” 

Dany again affirmed she had kept to her duties. Mordane gave her one of her rare, thin smiles and put a hand on Dany’s back. “Come then, let us see if we might find a tart or lemon pie in the kitchens.” 

Dany, Septa Mordane, Septon Orland, and Chayle sat at a table in Winterfell’s great hall splitting tarts and catching up. Septa Mordane described the large Snowy Sept at White Harbor with great detail, something Orland and Chayle seemed interested in but Dany found incredibly boring. Still, she could not find it in herself to be in anything but a fine mood. Perhaps it was the dragon egg, perhaps it was having a friend in Jon. Perhaps it was none of those things, but Dany felt happy with her small false “family” this afternoon. 

Later, Mordane and her went to pray and then had a lesson in the evening. Dany had hidden the dragon’s egg beneath a loose floorboard under her bed in their room. After Mordane fell asleep, she had wanted to take it out and look at it again so badly, but had thought better of it. 

She lay awake, and thought about Jon’s reaction to it. He had been so awestruck that she had been right about something being in Lord Cregan’s tomb that he had not even thought to protest in her taking it. They had sat in the godswood with it for several hours, staring at it and asking each other questions about it. He seemed as drawn to it as she did. 

Dany had made him swear to always keep the secret that she had it. He had agreed after some cajoling, and had knelt before the heart tree and sworn a solemn oath. Dany could not wait to talk with him about the egg again. 

The next morning went by quickly as Dany saw to her duties and her lessons. She thought more about Vermax and Prince Jacaerys as she swept the front steps of the sept. Perhaps the prince had been concerned he had gotten Sara Snow with child, and wanted his seed to have a dragon’s egg if he could not give him his name. 

That made her think of Jon. Lord Eddard had brought Jon home and called him son – a rare thing for men and their bastard children in the south, Chayle had told her once. Everyone said Lord Eddard was an honorable man. Perhaps Prince Jacaerys was as well, and wanted to provide for his bastard. 

After her lessons with Mordane, Dany left their apartments. There was a guard outside, as usual, but Dany did not recognize this one. He was tall and slender, yet strongly built. She glanced at him, then glanced away. 

“Princess Daenerys, yes?” He said. His voice had a strange accent. The words made Dany stop in her tracks. 

“N-no,” She said quietly, suddenly feeling odd. “I am only a novice, promised to the faith.” 

The guard gave her a friendly smile. “My apologies, I am new here. Lord Eddard took me into his service at White Harbor – I am from Braavos. My name is Belios.” 

Dany nodded politely, still unsure of the reason for this conversation. “I am…pleased to know you, Belios. I’m Daenerys.” 

“Yes,” He said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “You are. If there is ever anything I can do for you, I am at your service, Daenerys Targaryen.” 

Dany nodded politely again and left him there, feeling odd.

She stalked across the yard towards the godswood. She saw Jon and Robb at their swordplay, laughing and jumping and swinging as they called out taunts to one another. Robb glanced at her as she crossed the yard and began a furious attack against Jon. 

Dany paid them no mind, it would be nice to have some moments to herself before Jon was done and could join her. She went to their accustomed spot and sat down in the grass, waiting. Within the hour, Jon was emerging from the trees and bushes to find her. 

“Has Mordane found it?” He asked with concern. 

“No, I hid it well. I told you I would.” 

“Did the books say anything about why it might be there?” 

Dany told Jon what she had learned and they discussed it for some time. Jon seemed skeptical that anyone would abandon something as valuable as a dragon’s egg to care for a bastard child of a bastard child. 

They were discussing that further when a twig snapped nearby. They looked at each other with fear, and Jon stood with a stick in hand. 

“Who goes there?” Jon called out, his voice cracking slightly as he attempted to sound older than ten. 

There was a rustling as if someone was moving away. 

Robb Stark stepped out into the clearing. 

“Are you spying on us, Robb?” Jon asked with offense in his voice. 

“No, I just wanted to see where you go every day,” Robb said in a hurt voice. He looked at Dany and back at Jon. “Mother says we are not to –” 

“ Your mother,” Jon said. It was the most venomous Dany had ever heard Jon sound. “This is none of your business Stark, and as you said, you’re not supposed to talk to her.” 

Robb stood there awkwardly, ignoring Jon. “What are you two doing out here?” 

“We come here to talk, that’s all,” Dany said. Robb looked at her with confusion and something that seemed like hurt. Dany was surprised to see there were tears in his eyes.

He opened his mouth to respond to her, then closed it. Robb Stark looked back at Jon. “Why didn’t you tell me? You said you were always going to pray.” 

Jon looked both angry and ashamed. Is he ashamed to be with me here? Dany wondered. But she knew Jon better than that now. He was ashamed of lying to Robb. 

“We don’t need to do everything together Robb, Dany and I – Daenerys and I have become friends.” 

Robb again looked hurt. “Perhaps I could…” He started. 

“No,” Jon and Dany said at once. They looked at each other. She had said no because she was afraid if this went any further past Jon, Lord Eddard or Lady Catelyn would put a stop to it altogether. Why did Jon say no? Surely for the same reason, Dany insisted to herself. 

“You said it yourself, Lady Catelyn said you are not to speak with her,” Jon said awkwardly. That made Robb look even more hurt, but suddenly a bit of anger entered his expression as well. His face was red, making a ridiculous look between his pink cheeks and red face. 

“Fine. Mother says she is dangerous anyways, one day if her brother returns then father would have to –” 

“Returns?” Dany said, her brow furrowing. “My brother is dead.” 

Jon and Robb exchanged a look. “Rhaegar is dead, but not…” Jon started. 

“Rhaegar is the only brother I have,” Dany insisted. There were tears in her eyes now, and she did not know why. I only have one brother. Of course I do. If I had another brother, how could I not know? 

“Is she serious?” Robb asked Jon. Jon shot him a look – that perceptive nature Jon had seemed to grasp the situation before his brother. He walked over to Dany and put his hands on the sides of her arms as his grey eyes looked into her purple eyes. 

“Dany, you had two brothers,” He said, gently. “Prince Rhaegar, who died on the Trident. And another, closer to your own age. His name is Viserys Targaryen. Men loyal to your house fled with him on Dragonstone, but…” Jon seemed to be trying to remember the story but was struggling. “Anyway, he’s alive and he’s in the free cities.” 

Dany felt like she was going to be sick. “You…you are mistaken.” 

“They call him the Beggar King,” Robb said. “Because he –” 

“ Robb!” Jon shouted. “Go! You have done enough.” 

But it was Dany who left, running from the godswood in tears. 

*** 

Dany burst through the door to Chayle and Orland’s shared chambers without knocking. Chayle was beside his bed praying.

“Dany?” He asked, startled, and saw her tears. “What’s –” 

She ran to him and began to pummel his chest with her little fists. She shrieked at him “How could you?” 

Her anger was unlike anything she had ever felt, larger and deeper than any feeling she had ever known. She felt like she herself could breathe fire and watch Chayle burn, if only she were a dragon.

“What in seven hells are you –” Chayle went on, forgetting a septon-to-be would not curse so and trying to grasp her hands. 

“Viserys!” She yelled. Suddenly Septon Orland and Septa Mordane were in the doorway to investigate the disturbance. 

“Daenerys, you will stop this instant!” Mordane cried as Septon Orland tried to calm her with meaningless platitudes. She shrieked at them as well. 

“My brother! You knew, you all knew!” She shouted as she looked up at them through tear-streaked eyes. 

“Daenerys we, we were forbidden from – we could not,” Septon Orland stammered. Dany could see by all their faces that they knew it had been wrong to keep it from her. 

“I hate you!” She cried. “All of you!” 

Wrenching free, she ran to her room and slammed the door behind her. She could not lock or bar it, but she hoped Mordane would not come after her. She didn’t. 

Dany sobbed for a time, a whirlwind of emotions inside of her. She had a brother, she was not the last Targaryen. That made her so confused and so elated and so angry all at once – that is why she was a prisoner here, because they did not want her to be with her family. King Robert and his friend Ned Stark wanted to keep the Targaryens separated so they could never reclaim their rightful throne. 

And yet the feeling that permeated through her was one of hurt, more than anything. Septon Orland and Septa Mordane had raised her, Chayle had been like a brother to her. And all of them had not seen fit to tell her she had an actual brother. 

“Viserys,” She whispered to herself. She knew nothing about him. Closing her eyes, Dany could see him – as handsome as they said Prince Rhaegar was, as strong as Aegon the Dragon, as wise as King Jaehaerys. And he was exiled. All alone. Like me . 

She wanted to be with him more than anything in that moment. He is the rightful king , Daenerys thought suddenly. It was a wicked, treasonous thought, she knew. But it was true. Robert was no true king, he had stolen the throne. 

There had already been two Viserys who had ruled the Seven Kingdoms. He would be the third. He will have need of a dragon . 

***

The door opened well-after dark had fallen outside. “Go away,” Dany called out. 

“Daenerys,” A man’s voice called to her. She looked up. Jory Cassel, the Captain of Guards in Winterfell stood in her doorway. “You must come with me. Lord Eddard Stark has requested to see you in his solar.” 

Fear gripped Daenerys and all the fight went out of her. In all her time living in Winterfell, the most Eddard Stark had said to her was a curt apology when he bumped into her coming out of some hallway. 

“I –” She started, scared. 

“His lordship wishes to speak to you,” Jory said. “That’s all.” 

Dany nodded and Jory withdrew to let her dress. Dany combed her silvery-blonde hair, put on a clean white gown. She slipped on her necklace and went to the door. 

Jory walked with her down the steps and into the cold night air. Outside the door to the Faith’s apartments was the Braavosi guardsmen, Belios, who had introduced himself to her earlier. He tipped his steel cap to Jory and gave Dany the same knowing smile he had given her earlier. 

They walked across the yard together to the Great Keep, where the Starks of Winterfell made their home and Lord Eddard Stark’s solar was. The guards were numerous here, and they admitted Jory at once, some giving surprised glances when they saw Daenerys with Jory. Climbing the stairs, they reached the door to what Dany could only assume was Lord Stark’s solar and waited. 

The door opened and Dany’s breath caught in her throat as Jon stepped out. He had a sad, angry look on his face. He looked at Dany and looked contrite. But he was ushered on by Jory and descended the stairs. 

“Come,” A voice from the room said. 

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, was a man of some thirty years but looked like he could have been nearly forty. He was still a strong and lean man, but his hair had begun to turn grey before its time, to match the grey in his sad eyes. Jon’s eyes. 

His face was long like Arya and Jon’s, and he sat at a writing desk. His doublet was grey trimmed with white fur. He glanced up when Dany entered and stood. 

“Daenerys, please have a seat,” He said calmly. “Jory, thank you.” 

Jory bowed and withdrew, leaving her alone with her gaoler. Dany sat in the proffered chair, feeling immensely nervous. 

“It occurs to me that I have never properly introduced myself to you,” Lord Stark said with a warm but distant courtesy. “I ask your pardon for that. I am Lord Eddard Stark. Thank you for coming to see me.” 

“I…yes, my lord,” She said, looking down at her shoes instead of at him. 

“It is my understanding that you learned something today that was kept hidden from you. I am to blame for the fact that you were made unaware of your brother’s existence. Septon Orland and Septa Mordane are not. They were ordered by their lord to keep this secret.” 

Dany felt angry tears welling in her eyes, but she did not want to cry in front of Lord Stark. She did not know why he was telling her this, why he was bothering. In this moment, she found it hard not to hate him. He went on when she did not respond. 

“Your brother’s name is Viserys Targaryen,” Lord Stark told her. “By now he is a man of seventeen years. I am told he has your same coloring, silver blonde hair and purple eyes. I fear only those who lived at court during your father’s reign would have known his nature. Towards the end of the war which sat King Robert on the Iron Throne, you and Viserys went to Dragonstone with your mother, Queen Rhaella. Do…you are aware what became of her?” 

“Yes,” Dany said quietly. “She died giving birth to me.” Septa Mordane had told her. 

Ned Stark nodded. He looked sad. “Your brother was spirited away to the Free Cities when it became clear the garrison on Dragonstone planned to arrest your brother and you and deliver you both to the new King. It was my understanding that those who kept your brother from his arrest intended to bring you as well, but did not have the time. Since then, your brother has lived in exile, moving throughout the Free Cities. I do not know where he is now.” 

“Why…” Dany said, trying to find her bravery. “Why keep it from me?” 

Eddard Stark sighed. “Daenerys, There are those in this world who would seek to challenge King Robert’s reign using you. It may be the case that your brother intends to claim his crown one day. King Robert does not intend for you to be anything more than a septa. And that is all I intend for you. I assure you, your life will be safer that way. It may be difficult to understand now, but that is what is best for you, my la– Daenerys.” 

He smoothed out his doublet and looked into her eyes. “But there was no honor in keeping the truth of your brother from you. I simply did not want you to long to meet someone who you can never meet. You understand why you can never meet him?” 

Dany knew why. Because King Robert was scared of her, just like the Starks were. “I do. Do they really call my brother the Beggar King?” 

Eddard Stark looked uncomfortable. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Well,” Lord Stark started, looking like he did not wish to speak it but did not wish to lie to her. “Since he has gone into exile, he has traveled the Free Cities looking for swords, seeking for any gold or soldiers that would help him win back the Iron Throne. From all I have been told, he has been quite unsuccessful, and thus his entreaties have become more desperate, like that of a –” 

“Beggar,” Dany finished. Stark nodded. 

All alone in the world, treated like a beggar. And his only true kin, far across the world – a hostage in Winterfell. 

As she looked at Eddard Stark, a thought passed her mind. A thought of what her father would do to this man if he had the chance. The thought shamed her, but she thought about it nonetheless. 

“Now you will tell me where you learned of this,” Lord Stark said. His voice was icier now, but not harsh. “It is important that I know.” 

Dany felt that fire burning in her still. “No.” She said firmly. 

Lord Stark looked so tired at that. “Daenerys, you have been seen in the godswood a number of times with Jon Snow. Did he tell you of this?” 

“No,” Dany said, and it was not a lie. “And if he had, I would not betray him. Jon is my friend.” 

“There is honor in keeping a friend’s secret, Daenerys, but Jon has said that it was he who told you,” Stark said, cocking his head. That confused Dany. It had been Robb who told her, that foolish little boy. Why would Jon say it was him? 

“If you truly wish to help your friend, you will tell me the truth -- if Jon did not tell you, who did?” 

Dany thought of her friend. Jon must have had his reasons. He had trusted her when she demanded to go down to the crypts. Dany must do the same for him now.

“It is as he said then, my lord,” Dany said, feeling rotten about it. 

Lord Eddard Stark looked at her a long moment with those eyes he shared with Jon. Dany could not stop herself from speaking up then. 

“Will I…will I still be allowed to see Jon?” Dany asked plaintively. Something crossed Lord Stark’s face as she asked that, something that told Dany that he hated this. 

“No,” He said, not unkindly. “I am sorry. But it is for the best.” 

Dany looked at him. There was nothing more to say. He was the Lord of Winterfell, the Warden of the North, and Jon’s father. She was just a novice, promised to the faith. That was all she would ever be. 

“Jon has asked that he might apologize to you,” Lord Stark said. “Jory will take you to him, and that will give you the chance to say your farewells.”

*** 

Jon waited out in the yard below the Great Keep, looking wretched. Dany looked at him as Jory stood behind them. 

“I am sorry, Daenerys, for getting you into trouble,” He reached out his hand as if to clasp hers, an odd gesture. 

Dany clasped his hand and opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that he had done nothing wrong and that he was her friend . Then she felt it. He had pressed a piece of paper into her hand. All at once, Dany understood. 

“I forgive you, Jon,” Dany said, quietly. “Farewell to you.” 

“And you, Daenerys,” Jon said grimly and walked off. 

Back in the Faith’s apartments above the sept, Orland, Mordane, and Chayle sat and awkwardly explained that they had no choice but to comply with Lord Stark’s orders and keep the information regarding Viserys a secret. None of them begged her pardon, but instead asked pointed questions about if she was feeling better or if she was still angry. 

Dany was demure and contrite, apologizing for the way she had acted. She did not want them buzzing about her anymore, did not need their empty words. Dany told them what they needed to hear so that they might let her alone. 

With Mordane snoring in the bed across their small room, Dany slid out from under her covers and moved as quietly as possible to stand beside the window. She pulled the small note from up her sleeve and read Jon’s words by the light of the moon. 

Dany, 

Every third night, Fat Tom has the guard on the postern near the South Gate. Tomorrow night will be such a night. They change the guards on the doors to your apartments every few hours. Meet me at the postern gate after the Hour of the Owl. Wear black, bring all that you want to take with you. We are leaving. 

Jon Snow

Chapter 6: The White Knife

Once, in the godswood, Jon had told her that bastards could get away with things trueborn children could not. 

As they found the trickling, moonlit stream right where Jon said it would be, she knew that it was true. 

Their flight from Winterfell had gone exactly to his plan, quite well-thought-out for a boy of his age. Dany did not think she would have been able to come up with such a plan on her own. She had waited until the guards changed, just as Jon had said. Dany had waited until she heard Septa Mordane snoring, and then got up to stand at the window and wait.

The young guard Desmond, who had guarded the Faith’s apartments most of the night, had not waited diligently for his replacement to arrive. Instead, when he ascertained that the time had come for the changing of the guard, he had simply left before the arrival of his replacement, most like in search of a much-needed bed. 

Dany had slipped out then and headed in the direction of Winterfell’s South Gate when Jon came from the shadows to intercept her. He had saddlebags over one shoulder and a sword at his hip. He had put a finger to his lips to indicate she should not speak. Dany had her own baggage – a satchel with several changes of clothes, riding leathers, not gowns. She had of course brought the dragon’s egg. Jon had brought a black cloak for her, and wore one himself. 

At the postern gate on the south side of Winterfell, it was only a matter of tricking Fat Tom. To hear Jon tell it, he and his siblings had made a sport of tricking Fat Tom since they were old enough to walk. Jon had slunk off to do just that. All Jon had to do was find an area where he could seclude himself, and then began bouncing pebbles off of Winterfell’s walls some ten to twenty yards away from Tom. The portly guard heard the noise and looked up at it. After a few more minutes of pebbles, he became curious or suspicious and walked off to investigate. 

Dany had moved to the postern then, and Jon had come slinking back quick as a cat. The postern gate was actually two posterns - one on the inner wall before the moat and one across the moat. Once they were past the inner wall, Jon slid the gate closed and put his fingers to his lips again, pointing to a man on the outer wall above the nearby South Gate. Dany also saw that Jon had stashed a tree limb he must have pulled here from the godswood. It was thick enough for them to walk on, and long enough to span the moat. Dany and Jon struggled to quietly push it across to be their bridge. 

Once across, Dany and Jon needed only to wait until the guards made their rounds and gave them a window. Pushing the postern gate on the outer wall open, Dany and Jon pulled the hoods of their dark cloaks up over their heads and set out staying low as they crossed the empty expanse of grass around Winterfell’s walls, moving quickly despite the loads they carried. When they reached the treeline of the nearby wood, they knew the hardest part was behind them. 

Jon had said the stream they were looking for was a mile or two south from Winterfell. They had played it safe on the walk to that stream and kept silent. Now that they were finally here, Dany looked at Jon. 

“Where are we going?” She asked. The fact that she had gone with him without knowing showed how badly she had wanted to leave Winterfell, no matter the destination. 

“White Harbor,” Jon said, finally allowing his voice to go above a whisper. “I have twenty-three silvers and a silver chalice my Uncle Benjen gave me on my last name day. We can find a ship to take us to Braavos.” 

“ Braavos?” Dany said, incredulous. He truly did have no plan. “What will we do there?” 

“We’ll make our way to the disputed lands -- I’ll find a knight in the Second Sons or Golden Company to let me squire for them, and the two of us can make our own rules.” 

“Jon, this is madness,” Dany said shaking her head. 

“Then why did you come?” He asked, looking ashamed, as if the enormity of this folly was starting to make itself apparent to him. 

Why had she come? “I…I couldn’t stay,” She admitted. 

“Neither could I,” Jon said, looking sad. 

“Why did you tell your father that you were the one who told me of Viserys? It was Robb.” 

“My father had learned that you and I had been meeting in the godswood anyway, it would have made no difference,” Jon said awkwardly. “Robb is stupid sometimes, but he did not mean to cause trouble.” 

Dany could tell in that moment how much Jon did care for his trueborn brother. “Were you punished?” 

Jon looked angry now. “My father and Lady Stark spoke to me, told me…told me that I had put the family at risk by spending time in the godswood with you. Can you believe that? Just by being your friend, and they looked at me as if it was treason.” 

Dany felt anger twist in her own gut at that. Because to King Robert, it likely would be . “What did they do to you?” 

“Nothing, just scolded me. But I stayed behind to listen at the door. Lady Catelyn demanded my father send me elsewhere for fostering, to Lord Glover or Lord Karstark, or one of the hill clans. They don’t care how much I’d miss Robb or Arya or Jory or Ser Rodrik or…” 

He looked up at her. “Or you, Dany. They told me that I could never talk to you again. Ever.” 

Dany felt crestfallen. “Lord Stark told me the same.” 

“So, we don’t need them. Any of them. If they don’t want me or you, we should go and make it easier on them.” 

Dany felt affirmed, and nodded. It didn’t matter to her in that moment that their plan made little sense, that they were not likely to even make it out of White Harbor. She only cared about getting away from Winterfell, and keeping the only friend she had in this world. 

“You’re right,” She said. “How do we get to White Harbor?” 

“We follow this stream south, it will lead us to the White Knife,” Jon pointed. He looked up at the sky and frowned. “We’ll have to walk all night tonight and all day tomorrow, we can rest tomorrow night. We need to put some distance between us and the castle. I left a note saying goodbye to Robb and claiming I was headed alone for my Uncle Benjen in the Night’s Watch. Hopefully that should buy us some time, but they will know we are gone by morning.” 

“To White Harbor it is, then,” Dany said, smiling. 

Perhaps they would reach the Free Cities. And perhaps there, Dany would find her brother. In her imagination, he was exactly what a king should be. And maybe one day, when he takes back his throne, he can legitimize Jon and give him Winterfell. 

As they began walking again, Dany smiled at the thought of how Lady Catelyn’s face would look, should that day ever come.

***

The eastern horizon was a deep red bordered with orange as they walked southeast. The birds began to sing as the morning warmth came, making Dany pull down her hood. The wood around the stream teemed with activity in this part of summer, and Dany had never been anywhere more beautiful. 

After being cooped up in Winterfell all her life, a walk through the woods was more than Dany could have ever hoped for. Every insect on a leaf, every rabbit that dashed across the forest floor at their approach, every tree of every shape brought joy to her heart. Now, she would actually get to start living. Now, she could see the world and not just Winterfell’s little wooden sept. 

“Well, perhaps if Lord Cregan was wroth with this Prince Jacaerys for leaving his sister, the prince left one of Vermax’s eggs to appease him?” Jon mused, continuing the conversation they had been having this morning. “His mother needed Cregan to back her claim to the throne.” 

“It was not just a claim, she was the rightful heir,” Dany said hotly. 

“She had a brother, King Viserys’ son,” Jon shrugged. 

“And yet, King Viserys still chose her to rule.” 

“Can a king do that?” Jon asked. 

“A king can do anything he wants,” Dany said, then thought of her father and felt less sure. “Almost anything, I think.” 

“Well, anyway, that’s why I think the egg was there,” Jon said. “It was a treasure of Lord Cregan’s and he wanted to take it with him to his grave.” 

“Maybe,” Dany said, still unsure. 

She felt the weight of the egg in the satchel she carried, and pressed a hand against it through the leather. Dany could still feel its warmth. 

For such an uncertain venture, Dany felt oddly giddy to be on her way. It was because of Jon, in truth. As she looked at him, stopping to survey the surrounding wood, his face so serious for a boy of ten, Dany smiled. In some ways, she didn’t even care if they found her brother – she would be happy if Jon’s plan worked. 

Maybe he could fight for a time with the sellswords in the Disputed Lands, just long enough to earn his fortune. It wouldn’t need to be long, then they could buy a house of their own somewhere near the sea, somewhere warm . They could live together, and talk every day and never have to worry about what Septa Mordane or Lord Stark had to say. 

They could be friends for as long as they wanted. They could be friends, or even…man and wife. If Jon wanted, I’d be his wife . Dany looked up at him again and thought about that. Jon was her closest friend, the person she wanted to spend the most time with in this world. Was there more she needed to want from a husband? Perhaps she would know when she was older, but for now she just wanted to be with him, friend or otherwise. And if he wanted to be her family, all the better. Though from what she knew of Jon, he never thought of that sort of thing. Perhaps that will change for him one day as well.  

The day proved a warm one as they made their way along the stream, talking of different things as they always did in the godswood. Jon seemed to be reveling in their adventure as much as she was, pointing to different plants in the forest and telling Dany what they were, telling stories of times his father had taken Robb and him hunting.

A few times, they chanced upon fisherfolk on the bank of the stream, and as it got wider the further south they walked, they saw the occasional small boat. Each time Jon and Dany hid in the treeline and either waited for the smallfolk to pass, or made their way around them. They stopped to have a few bites of hard cheese and some pieces of bread from a loaf Jon had stolen from the kitchens. 

By midday, Jon was perplexed at the fact that they had not yet reached the White Knife, looking confused at a map he had taken from among Maester Luwin’s things. 

“I was sure we would have reached it by now,” Jon said, scrunching up his long face as Dany and him sat beside the river filling their waterskins. 

“Perhaps it seems shorter on the map than it is on the land,” Dany said, concerned. 

Jon seemed nervous at that. “We’ll just have to walk faster.” 

Dany was tired though. They both were, and by the time the sun was low in the sky, they had realized there were many things they did not know how to contend with. It was increasingly difficult to keep the fear from their voice. 

They discussed at length that they would need to keep Dany’s silvery-blonde hair hidden in White Harbor, as surely by the time they get there, word will get out of their flight from Winterfell. Jon had suggested a hat. When Dany pointed out that her eyebrows were of that color and they had not brought a hat, they both became further frustrated. 

When they stopped to make camp that night, the children found they had eaten much more of their food supplies than they had intended. Jon built a fire as they fretted over the fact that they had still not reached the White Knife. As they ate their simple supper that night, it was clear that the lack of sleep and tiredness from the day was wearing on them both. 

“I don’t even know how much passage on a ship costs,” Jon admitted. “Perhaps we should not have left.” 

Dany felt the same way but did not want this adventure, probably the greatest her life would ever know, to end. “Surely, we’ll have enough between the chalice and your silver.” 

“Yes, surely…” Jon said. Dany could tell how wary he had become. 

“You know, it is certainly frightening to be out here…but,” Dany started. “I still am glad we went. I’m glad to be with you, Jon. We’ll make it to the Free Cities, I’m sure of it. And I won’t have to become a septa, and you can be a sellsword instead of a brother of the Night’s Watch.” 

Jon frowned at that as he struck the flint to start the fire. It seemed clear at once that he had not considered the fact that this escapade would completely change the course of how he wanted his life to go. “Well…I still may want to return one day and take the black. After we’ve visited the Free Cities.” 

“Oh,” Dany said, feeling foolish about her idle dreaming of them marrying earlier. “Of course. But…where would I go?” 

Jon clearly had not thought of that. He seemed uncomfortable now. The sun was low in the sky and he said. “You know, I bet we could go find us some of those sweet black berries, I saw some a bit to the west. That would lift our spirits I’m sure.” 

“I could come with you,” Dany offered. 

Jon shook his head. “You tend the fire and watch our things. I won’t be gone long.” 

He bounded off in the direction he had mentioned, and Dany poked at the fire with a long stick. Dany had seen the same berries, and had an idea of how long it would take for Jon to get back. She sighed as the dusk turned to twilight, and wondered how this little adventure of theirs would end. 

A part of her knew it would end, that the happiness she dreamed of at the end of it would not be possible. A happy ending to her story seemed impossible from the minute she had been born, in grief and sorrow, at the end of her house’s power. She was like a man who showed up to battle, ready to win glory and fight for his lord, only to find that the battle was done, and his side had been slaughtered. 

No, Dany thought. There are no happy endings in store for me . 

“Princess,” A quiet, familiar voice said behind her. It was not Jon’s. Dany whirled. 

It was her. The shadow. 

The darkness beyond the dim light of the fire was oppressive, but Dany could see her. Standing between two trees. She wore a long, hooded black robe. She was neither tall nor short, and Dany could see why her face was so unreadable that night in her room. She wore a painted, red lacquer mask. It was wooden and still as she looked at Dany but her eyes were watery behind the mask. 

“ You! ” Dany stood suddenly and scrambled backwards. She found a large log of wood on the ground and held it up like a sword. “I don’t know what you want with me, but you best stay away.” 

“I come not to harm, but to warn,” She said quietly. “My foretellings served you well, did they not?” 

The shadow’s eyes went to the satchel where the dragon’s egg was tucked away. Dany felt suddenly odd. It had been her advice that had led Dany to the egg.

“Do you remember what else I said?” The shadow asked. “Remember my words, Daenerys Targaryen. He will only take you farther from home.”

Dany huffed at that, feeling both angry and scared. “I didn’t…your words make little sense!” 

There was the winnie of a horse somewhere behind Dany and she whirled to see two men riding up slowly. She clutched the log tighter in her hands and glanced back at the shadow. But she was gone. 

Out past the firelight, Dany could see the outline of two men on horseback. Gods, what have we done? Dany thought to herself as she realized she was alone out here. She was just a child, leaving Winterfell alone was foolish and impulsive. 

Mother above, protect me , Dany prayed, her breath coming quickly out of fear as 

“Good evening, Princess!” A man called out, his voice thick with accent. He had a blue beard and blue hair, the way Dany had heard that men dyed their hair in Tyrosh. He was burly, and had a dagger at his belt. His companion rode a second horse behind him. The man saw the log she held. “There'll be no need for that, princess. We’re friends, loyal to the true king.”  

“The…the true king?” Dany asked, backing up to put the fire between her and the strangers. 

The second man slid off his horse, tall and slender. Dany knew him. 

“King Viserys Targaryen, the Third of His Name,” Belios, the guard who had introduced himself to Dany at Winterfell, said.

“What are…who are you?” Dany asked, her nerves somewhat faded at the familiar face, but still unsure. 

“Belios, that is indeed my true name,” He gave her a deep bow and grinned at her, a golden tooth gleaming in his mouth in the light of the fire. “Of Braavos. My companion is Staros of Tyrosh.” 

“Gods but I thought you’d never get her out of that castle,” Staros the Tyroshi said with a wide smile, looking Dany up and down. “Though it seems she got out on her own.” 

Belios shot his companion a look and then knelt beside Dany. “Princess, I came to Winterfell for you, to find you. I was watching last night when you and your friend, the bastard boy, left the castle. I’ve come to take you to safety.” 

“To..safety?” Dany said. “I don’t understand.” 

“Your brother,” Staros said. “He’s the one hired us. Wanted us to come take you to him, so you can be his queen.” 

His queen? Dany’s own parents had been brother and sister, and the Targaryens had wed brother to sister for hundreds of years, after the conquest and before. Queen Daenerys Targaryen, She thought to herself, trying it on. She found she liked it. 

“We oughta go, Bel,” Staros said impatiently. “No doubt these Winterfell men will be on her trail.” 

“Can Jon come?” Dany asked suddenly. “He’s my best friend.” 

The two foreigners exchanged a look. “The bastard boy?” 

“No,” Staros said bluntly. “Just you. We’ll take you to White Harbor and sail you to Braavos.” 

Belios again glared at his companion. “Jon would have no place where we’re going, princess. He’ll stay behind, let him stay with his family.” 

Dany thought about that, remembering that they had done all this together so the two of them wouldn’t have to be separated, to face their lives at Winterfell without the other’s friendship. Dany shook her head. 

“I’m not going if Jon’s not going,” She said, crossing her arms. “My brother will need good men about him, Jon’s only ten and he can already fight. Besides, Viserys would want me to be happy above all else, I’m sure of it.” 

Staros barked with laughter at that. Belios shushed him, but Staros said: “The beggar only wanted the girl, and I’m not losing out on my cut just because she wants some lord’s bastard to come with her.” 

Staros put a hand on his dagger and Belios put out his hands in a gesture of conciliation. But something the Tyroshi had said nagged at Dany. The beggar. The Beggar King. Her brother, the Beggar King. The shadow woman’s words came back to her all in a rush. Beware the begging brother, his path will only lead you farther from home. 

Jon was her home, more a brother to her than some stranger across the sea. If her brother was as noble and kind as she imagined, the men she hired would understand and respect her decision to stay.

“I…” Dany started, looking at the men. “I thank you for your service to my house. But it is not my wish to go with you. My place is here.” 

Belios smiled, shrugged, and looked at Staros. Dany had been worried they would be angry, so she plaintively smiled back, looking between the two men. 

“I’ll fetch the horses, you grab the little bitch,” Belios said casually. “And gag her, or she’ll bring the wolves down on us.” 

Dany gasped and move to run, but Staros grabbed her wrist so hard she cried out in pain. She opened her mouth to scream, but a sweaty hand came down over her lips. Dany squiremed violently, kicking and screaming. She bit at his hand and he cried out, shoving her to the ground. 

“Bloody cunt!” He cried, and drew his dagger, grabbing Dany by her hair as she screamed, pulling her across the ground. She screamed loudly. 

“Wolves, what’d I say, you fool?” Belios screamed and grabbed a cloth from a saddlebag, approaching Dany. 

But Belios stopped suddenly and made a queer face, as if he was suddenly trying to remember something important. He touched his stomach, and raised his hand again to look at it. Dany could see something shiny and wet on that hand. 

Belios fell forward, and Jon Snow was standing behind him, eyes as wide as goose eggs. The sword he had stolen from Winterfell wobbled in the man’s back as Belios hit the ground. 

Staros cursed and released Dany’s hair, and with three long strides reached Belios’ body and grabbed the hilt of the sword before Jon could think to. 

Jon drew the dagger he had brought and held it before him, filled with fear either borne from having killed a man for the first time or from the fact that another man now intended to kill him. 

“Jon, run !” Dany shouted and ran towards Staros, ineffectually pounding her fists on the man’s back. This at least had the effect of making him pause to turn and backhand Dany in the face. She fell to the ground clutching her cheek, before turning to rise again. 

Jon had the dagger in his hand, but Dany could tell he was shaking as the Tyroshi advanced on him. He raised a sword. 

But before he brought it down, there was the sound of a warhorn in the distance, close to the northwest. Staros cursed, and ran to jump atop one of the horses. He dropped the sword in his haste as Jon ran to Dany’s side, putting an arm beneath her to pull her to a sitting position. Dany had so much fear that was somehow alleviate by just the feeling of Jon’s arm around her.

Staros had finally got the horse beneath him in his clumsy haste just as they heard the sounds of the hoofbeats, a thunderous charge as a force of some twenty men with torches rode out of the darkness, the direwolf of Stark flying before them. Staros began to ride to the southeast. 

“ STOP! ” Jory Cassel cried from atop his warhorse as he and three others broke off from the party to chase after the man. “In the name of the Lord of Winterfell, stop!” 

Meanwhile, the remaining guardsmen rode to encircle Jon and Dany’s meager camp. Dany saw Jon clutch one of the satchels to his person. 

Ser Rodrik Cassel rode up on a tall, black stallion and looked down upon the dead man, and the two children clutching each other on the cold ground, lit by the campfire and the torches all around them. The knight’s face was not angry. It was a relieved look.

Jon looked up at Ser Rodrik, down at the man he had killed, and then at Dany’s face. His lip trembled, and he began to sob.

Chapter 7: The Lord of Winterfell

It was the Hour of the Wolf when Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow were brought to Winterfell’s Great Hall. 

They were ushered there straight away after returning to the castle, Dany riding double atop Jory’s horse and Jon riding with Ser Rodrik. The old knight and Jon were talking as they rode, Dany could see. But over the sound of the horses and the whipping of the wind, Dany could not hear it. 

“What…what will happen now?” She asked Jory plaintively as they rode. 

“It’s not for me to say, child,” Jory said in a gentle voice. “But you are safe now.” 

Before all this business with Jon, she had hardly ever spoken to Jory Cassel. But she found she liked him. And yet she did not feel entirely safe. The threat of whatever punishment Lord Eddard Stark or Lady Catelyn Stark would have in store for her and Jon loomed over the ride. 

And she could not stop thinking of the shadow woman. Just like she had with the dragon’s egg, she had spoken true and given Dany good counsel. She had warned her to fear her brother, and it seemed she had good reason. Whoever Viserys Targaryen was, he had not had any scruples in choosing the type of men he sent to snatch his ten-year-old sister away. 

Most of all, she felt foolish as Jon must have. Life was not perfect at Winterfell, but when she thought of the look of worry on Septa Mordane’s face, or of Chayle pacing in the libraries like he did when he was nervous, she felt ashamed. And now Jon was like to get sent away to Karhold or Deepwood Motte in any case.

Dany did not know what they would do with her. She was a hostage, in truth. And she tried to escape. Would that mean Lord Stark would have to take her head? Dany did not think so, but perhaps it would mean they would have to tell King Robert, and maybe he’d just put her in the dungeons under the Red Keep. 

All those thoughts and more nagged at her as Jon and Dany stood outside of the doors to the Great Hall. Jon looked at her and whispered. 

“I’m sorry,” He said. “But…don’t worry. I have it.”

He patted the satchel they had not searched, the one he had about his person. The egg . Dany wanted to kiss him. 

The guards swung the doors open and the Targaryen princess and Stark bastard were ushered down the long hall. It was an imposing walk, a walk that seemed to have the weight of what would come at the end of it in every step. 

Lord Eddard sat in the high seat of the Starks. To his right, stood Lady Catelyn, still disheveled from bed. To Lord Stark’s left stood little Robb Stark, a tentatively nervous look on his face. He caught Dany’s eyes, and looked down as if ashamed.

Maester Luwin was also in attendance, and down closer to the tables and benches, Dany saw Mordane, Chayle, and Orland clustered together, relieved looks on their faces. 

When Dany met Septa Mordane’s look, tears spilled down her face. She knew she should not, but Dany broke out into a run and ran towards her. Mordane could be a harsh disciplinarian, a demanding teacher, and at times an emotionally distant mentor. But she was the closest thing Daenerys Targaryen had to a mother in this world, and Daenerys Targaryen was the closest thing Mordane had to a daughter. 

Mordane stepped forward and knelt down as Dany ran to her and caught her in her arms, whispering comforting words in her ear – not words of chastisement as they could have so easily been. Dany buried her face into the Septa’s simple robes. 

“I’m so sorry, Septa,” She sobbed. “I –” 

“That’s enough, child, we will speak of it at length, I am sure,” The older woman cooed. “You are back now, and that is what is important.” 

She pulled back from Dany and gestured towards Lord Stark. Dany knew. She saw Jon standing below the high seat, looking ashamed. Robb stood near his father, who both looked like they wanted to go to Jon. 

Lady Catelyn, however, looked down at Jon with something between loathing and fear. As Dany sulked back to Jon’s side, Catelyn Stark turned her look on Dany. And there was much more fear than loathing in that look. 

“Gods be good,” Eddard Stark said as the two children stood beneath the dais. “Do you have any idea what the last day has been like for us here? Not knowing what has happened to either of you? Two children, ten years old , and you take it upon yourselves to run off into the wilderness?” 

“Who’s scheme was it?” Lady Catelyn said with a cutting tone. 

“Mine,” Jon said at once, his voice firm, but Dany noticed he did not look up at Lady Stark. “I overheard talk that I might be sent away for fostering. I wanted to stay with Dany- Daenerys. It was my plan.” 

At mention of the fostering, Lord and Lady Stark exchanged a tense look at each other.

Dany glanced at Jon Snow and thought of how he had taken the blame for telling her about Viserys and for their visits to the Godswood in general. She would not let him stand alone this time. I am the blood of the dragon . 

“It may have been his plan, but I went along with it, and eagerly,” Dany said, in a voice louder than Jon’s and more commanding. It seemed to surprise everyone in the room. “Jon is my friend. My…well, my only friend of mine own age.” 

Jon looked at her and she at him as they stood there, all of them judging the two of them together. His sad grey eyes seemed a bit lighter. 

“These are not the games of children,” Eddard Stark said, his voice tired and yet commanding. “You stole, you went out into the wilderness. And as you learned, to your sorrow, the world is not a simple place for Daenerys. She is here for her own protection, to keep her from those who would wish to use her to make woe for our realm – treason and rebellion.” 

Dany felt that anger that had become so familiar for her pool in her stomach. Treason and rebellion? She wanted to ask Lord Stark. How could it be so, when the king who sits the Iron Throne has less claim to it than my brother or I? 

Or I? In years to come, Daenerys Targaryen thought about how that had been the first time in her entire life that she had ever considered that the Iron Throne of Aegon the Conqueror might one day belong to her. But in that moment, her musing was cut off by a dangerous question. 

“Were you aware, Daenerys?” Lady Stark asked pointedly. “Did you conspire with this man Belios in this escape?” 

Even at ten, Dany knew what she was being asked. Did you commit treason? 

“My lady,” Lord Stark said as Catelyn asked the question. She subsided, and Lord Eddard turned his attention to Daenerys. “Speak the truth, child. We must know. The Tyroshi is in my dungeons. Did you know they were coming? Have you been contacted by your brother Viserys or any other lords of the realm without my knowledge?” 

“No,” Dany said firmly. “My lord, you know I only learned of my brother days ago. The guard, Belios, spoke to me and called me a princess. But that is all that I knew of him. They followed us, he said so to me in the woods. I did not ask him to take me to my brother.” 

Lord Stark seemed convinced by that. Lady Catelyn still looked upon Daenerys with a fear-filled anger. “Good,” Lord Stark said in that tired voice. “Let us put it to rest then. Daenerys, you will return with Orland and Mordane to the sept. Jon, we will speak of this fostering later. I think we could all benefit from getting some sleep.” 

There it was. Her life would return to exactly what it was always going to be. She would learn to be a septa, she would take vows and eliminate her pesky claim to the Iron Throne, and she would fade into obscurity – and Jon would be a memory she had from girlhood. Dany’s fists clenched together and she felt heat on her face. 

Jon looked around. “What about…can Dany and I keep meeting to talk in the godswood?” 

Catelyn put her hand to the bridge of her nose in irritation. Maester Luwin looked down. Lord Stark grimaced. Dany could hardly hold her tongue as she saw those expressions.

“Jon, it is for the best,” Eddard Stark began to say. “This never should have –” 

“ Lord Stark! ” Dany cried. It came out shrilly, a little girl’s cry but she did not care. Everyone froze. Everyone looked. Eddard Stark looked at her with wide eyes. “Everyone says that you are a man of honor. How can you justify the dishonor that you have shown to me?” 

The silence that followed in the seconds after was filled with emotion. Maester Luwin opened his mouth to speak but closed it. Lady Catelyn looked as if Dany had put a sword in her back. Robb Stark looked at her with something akin to fascination. Septa Mordane gasped loudly and started over to Dany, shaking her head. 

But Lord Eddard Stark put up a hand to stop her progress. “Dishonor?” There was ice in his voice. 

“I am unsure of what else one might call it,” Dany said. She felt like it must have felt for her ancestors to mount a dragon – frightening, necessary, powerful . “I have been raised to be a septa, to know what is proper and what is improper for girls of high birth. I am the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, the daughter of King Aerys. I was brought here friendless, without any kin, and alone. And not once in the last decade of my life have you or yours treated me with the courtesy and respect that should be afforded to a highborn hostage of my birth. So, I ask you again: How can you justify the dishonor you have shown me?” 

Silence again fell on the room. Mordane looked fit to faint. Catelyn Stark did not look half so angry as Dany imagined she might though. Was that shame in her face? Dany was not certain. To her left, Jon Snow gave her a sideways look that seemed to be containing the faintest of smiles – a smile that existed in the eyes if not in the mouth. 

And to Dany’s astonishment, Lord Stark held the same kind of expression on his face. 

“My lord, I apologize for –” Mordane started but Ned Stark cut her off. 

“No, Septa, frank talk does not require an apology under my roof,” He said. “Daenerys, I thank you for speaking honestly. The answer to your question is that the world is not so simple as it may seem to be at your age. But looking at you now, I cannot say I know many ten year old girls who would call a high lord dishonorable under his own roof.” 

He looked again it his wife and then went on. “But…I will think on the things you have said. After we all get some bloody sleep.” 

Dany could not help but smile at that last bit. Lord Stark smiled back at her.

***

That night, Orland, Mordane, and Chayle all accepted her apologies for running away. It probably helped that they still felt guilty over keeping knowledge that she had a brother from her. And Dany went to sleep feeling better than she had in some time. 

Life may return to its usually mundane cycles, but that no longer seemed to bother her so much. At least she was not facing it meekly. She had spoken the truth, reminded them all that she was a dragon. 

The next morning, life did indeed return to its routines. She went to the Sept with Mordane and the others, and prayed and sang to the Seven. After, Dany was set to her usual chores and duties, sweeping the sept, replacing the candles, examining the paintings of the Seven for any signs of areas that needed to be touched-up. Before their midday meal, Dany and Mordane had their usual lessons. There was a comfort in these routines that Dany never knew. 

When midafternoon came, Dany asked Mordane for leave to visit the godswood. It looked like Mordane might have refused, but to Dany’s surprise she allowed her to go – with the understanding that she be back within the hour. “ Only a walk,” Mordane had said with a chastising look. “Nothing more this time.” 

Dany nodded. Robb and Jon were not in the yard fighting as would have been normal for her everyday routine. In the godswood, there was no sign of Jon, so Dany simply enjoyed her walk, taking in the piney, earthy smell of the small wood. Dany found she did not feel so much a stranger in this wood as she used to. 

Before she left, she walked back to the secluded spot where she and Jon would usually meet. He was still not there, but something caught her eye this time. Leaning against a tree, a few yards away from the clearing, was a wooden practice sword. Dany walked towards it. 

It was Jon’s, she could tell. She had seen him swinging it enough times to know. And beneath it, a small cairn of rocks concealed something – not a natural formation. She began to move the rocks to the side until she found the satchel they had taken on their doomed flight from Winterfell. 

Inside was her dragon’s egg. She smiled. A note had been folded within as well. This belongs to you , the note read. And it was signed with Jon’s name. 

***

The next morning, her routine she had hated and loved in equal parts had come to a sudden end. 

When they were done praying and singing for the morning, Dany went to get her broom but Mordane put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Not today, Danaerys,” She said gently. “Today, you will have to attend to your chores in the afternoon. You are to go to Maester Luwin’s rooms below the rookery.” 

“Maester…Luwin?” Dany asked, confused. “Why?” 

“That is what I have been told,” Mordane said. 

“What of our lessons?” 

“You can take your lessons with me in the early afternoon.” 

Dany scrunched up her face. That did not make any sense – Mordane taught the Stark girls in the early afternoon. 

“Go, child. The maester is not to be kept waiting.” 

Dany did as she was bid, walking across the yard to the tower within Winterfell that always had ravens cawing and flying about it, ravens tended to by Maester Luwin. Dany had never had much interaction with the man, but always found there was something about his simple face that she liked. She could not imagine what the maester would want with her. 

She climbed the stairs, found the door to his turret, and opened it. She would not have been more shocked by the sight within if a living, breathing dragon had been there. 

Maester Luwin was standing at the front of the room, five chairs arrayed out in front of him. In the chairs, were the Stark children. And Jon Snow. 

Sansa and Arya turned to look at her with wide eyes as she entered, not quite sure what to make of this development. Robb Stark looked nervous but fascinated. Jon Snow was grinning like a fool. 

“Lady Daenerys,” Maester Luwin said evenly, gesturing to the empty chair. “Thank you for joining us.” 

The small, grey man turned to address the Stark children and their bastard brother. “Lady Daenerys is going to join us every day for our lessons. Your lord father has asked me to remind you to show her every courtesy.” 

Dany could only stand there thunder-struck. Lord Stark had listened to her plea and changed because of it. Him, one of the greatest lords in the realm, and her – the daughter of a mad king who no one need listen to if they chose they did not want to. 

“Sit by me!” Little Arya Stark cried, patting the chair next to her, clearly fascinated by a newcomer. 

“If you please,” Dany said with a tremulous smile. She sat next to Arya as Maester Luwin resumed his lesson. 

“Today we are speaking of sums,” He said. Sansa Stark groaned and Robb made a face.

But Dany could only sit there and smile. She looked across the room at Jon. 

He nodded at her with a smile.

Notes:

I hope you enjoy the first part of this new story -- I intend for there to be four parts in total (all under this link, not in separate stories) and moving forward I'll try to post two chapters every week or so. I am /u/SerRobartheRed on reddit where I will post about updates.

In the meantime, while you're waiting: If you enjoy my writing and have yet to read my first fic, please give it a try: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58707880/chapters/149599465

Chapter 8: Part Two Prologue: Robb Stark

Robb’s arms and legs already ached, but when Ser Rodrik called his name and his brother’s name, he did not mind. 

That was, until he saw her. 

She never dressed any differently – every day of his life that he had seen her, she was always wearing that white Septa’s robe with that star necklace. But now they were both a few years shy of being a man and woman grown, and Robb could not look at that demure gown in quite the same way. 

Daenerys Targaryen made her way to the viewing gallery, wooden benches set up in the yard for those who wished to watch Ser Rodrik Cassel drill his young charges. Arya trailed after her, as Arya so often had since the day those years ago when Daenerys Targaryen had made that slow and often subtle shift from nothing more than a novice in Septa Mordane’s charge to a highborn ward of Lord Eddard Stark. 

Daenerys found a bench and Arya sat next to her. Robb did not notice he had stopped and watched as she approached. A few strands of that otherworldly, ethereal silver-blonde hair had come loose from the tight bun she always kept her hair in and were gently swaying in the wind. Daenerys giggled lightly as Arya showed her some rip on the sleeve of her messy gown, and Robb was entranced by the way her purple eyes lit up when she smiled. Then she set those purple eyes towards the boys in the yard.

But of course, it was not Robb that her eyes fell on.

“Sword and shield, I think,” Ser Rodrik said. Jon glanced at the gallery then back at Robb. Jon always made sure he knew his foe well in the practice yard, and Robb had little doubt that his half-brother knew the advantage he currently had over Robb in this next bout. 

“Sword and shield then,” Robb said, trying to sound like his lord father. He glanced at Daenerys as he said it, but she was still looking at Jon. 

Robb turned to Theon Greyjoy, who was smirking at him with a knowing smile. He tossed Robb a blunted practice sword and then offered him a dinted practice shield. As Robb moved closer to take it from his father’s ward, Theon said under his breath: “Don’t get distracted, Stark.” 

Robb tried not to look at Theon and tried even harder not to feel so bloody stupid. 

“Until one of you is on the ground,” Ser Rodrik said. The gruff old knight tugged at his white cheek whiskers, glancing back and forth between Jon and Robb. His back was to the gallery, so the master-at-arms would have had no inkling of the lightly changed energy between his charges. 

“Ready, Stark?” Jon asked. Robb put his shield up and nodded, not trusting his voice. He willed his eyes not to glance towards the gallery and to keep them on Jon and his sword. 

Robb kept his shield up, content this time to let Jon attack – not like the last time Daenerys had come to watch their swordplay, in which some rank madness had overtaken the heir to Winterfell and compelled him to try and finish Jon quickly. 

Jon did not immediately take the bait. He had grown into a lean, tall, graceful youth that looked every bit like Lord Eddard Stark and his skill at arms came in his dexterity, not in strength. Robb’s larger build made him a larger target, but also could put more power behind his cuts. Jon tried a sideways slash towards Robb’s unprotected side. 

He batted it away with his sword. Jon glanced towards the gallery and lightly grinned. Jon was not one who grinned easily, and Robb knew this was a ploy. Robb let his eyes glance towards the gallery after Jon did, but knowing the trick immediately glanced back with his shield up as Jon brought a hack down above his head, bouncing the cut off his shield, making Jon reel for a moment. 

In that opening, Robb pressed an attack, slashing and hacking at the dark-haired youth who met him blow-for-blow, but who was still on the backfoot. When Jon stumbled slightly, Robb let himself look over at Daenerys Targaryen and smile himself. She met his eyes with something bordering on amusement and annoyance. 

Jon launched himself at Robb as he saw him glance towards the gallery, as Robb had hoped he might, and slipped quickly out of the way to send Jon off-balance into open air, Robb chasing at him from behind. Jon failed to get his shield or sword up in time as Robb landed some blows at his leg. His brother lost his footing and fell on his back. 

Robb put his practice-sword on Jon’s chest. 

“Yield?” Robb asked. 

Jon looked up at him not with anger or displeasure, but a sort of rueful appreciation. He reached a hand up for Robb and said. “Yield.” 

Robb pulled Jon to his feet as Jon amiably called the bout “well-fought.” Robb agreed, elated to have gotten through another visit from the Targaryen girl without making a fool of himself again. 

Ser Rodrik declared that to be enough for the day. Robb and Theon gathered up their training materials and began to make for the armory.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Jon said to the two of them as he stalked off across the yard to the gallery. Robb stood beside Theon and watched as Jon stood beside where Daenerys and Arya sat on the benches. Daenerys and Jon began to speak. Robb suppressed a stupid, irritating feeling inside himself when he saw Daenerys laugh at some jape of Jon’s. 

“That went better,” Theon said sarcastically. He was smiling again. As long as Robb had known Theon, he seemed he was always smiling at something. Theon had been brought to Winterfell as a hostage a few years ago after his father had risen in rebellion against King Robert. He and Theon had gotten on well – it was nice to have someone older than him around sometimes, but other times his teasing rankled Robb. 

“Leave off,” Robb said and Theon chuckled. 

“Are you cross? You beat him this time, and in front of your lady love,” Theon mused. 

“She’s not my –” Robb started and felt his face heat up. Theon was still grinning as they entered the armory. 

“You know my thoughts on the matter,” Theon said as he hung up a practice sword. He was a handsome, dark-haired youth a few years older than Robb, and Robb knew that Theon was no stranger to the intimate charms of women. 

“Yes, and your thoughts on the matter would make a harlot blush, not to mention a septa” Robb said as he found a hook for his shield. 

“She’s no septa yet, and you’re the heir to Winterfell,” Theon said, turning to Robb with another wry smile. “Give her a tumble, let the madness pass. She’ll likely thank you for it.” 

Robb tried not to blush but pursed his lips. “Watch your tongue. I would not dishonor her in such a way. She’s promised to the Faith, and besides there’d be no kindness in that.” Robb did not voice his most prominent concern on the matter, which was that he did not think he would be able to attract Daenerys in any case.

“She’s promised to the Faith. She’ll likely look back on it as a happy memory.” 

Robb must have looked angry in earnest, because Theon retreated back to safer ground as he often did when Robb was angry. “Look, don’t bed her then. But this longing grows boring for me. Come with me some night, to the Smoking Log. I have been waiting to try the new girl, Kyra, in case you finally wise up and want her first. Tumble her into bed, and I’m sure this madness will pass.” 

Robb thought about it. There were times it seemed like Theon was worldly wise in a way Robb would never be, and there were times he seemed an utter fool. This was one of the former times, but Robb still knew it was not something he should entertain. Robb finished removing his practice armor. 

“There would be no honor and that either,” Robb said awkwardly. 

“Why? Even your lord father may not have thought the same,” Theon said. “He fathered a bastard after all.”

“Guilty,” Jon said as he entered the armory, hanging his own sword up. “What are you two hens clucking about?” 

Robb shot Theon a look that he hoped the ironborn would know to mean to make no mention of Daenerys Targaryen. “Whores.” Theon said with a knowing glance to Robb. “I think it's about time Robb had himself a woman. You could come too, Snow, if you ever get any hot blood in your veins.” 

Jon gave Theon one of his most serious looks. The two boys did not get along – they were too different in nature for that. Theon’s arrival at Winterfell had provided a friend for Robb to spend time with when Jon and Daenerys went off on their own to their conversations and games and gods know what else that Robb was never invited on. Robb spent more time with Theon, and Jon spent more time with Daenerys. Jon was Robb’s best friend in the world but also in some ways his rival – as they’d grown a bit older, it seemed at times he was more rival than friend. Daenerys Targaryen did not help the matter. 

“Not me,” Jon finally said, ice in his voice.  

“I am not planning on going either,” Robb said quickly. Robb knew Jon’s objection and wanted Jon to know he agreed with him. 

“More for me then,” Theon smiled and left the armory. 

Jon turned to Robb. “I didn’t see that last attack coming,” He said, impressed. “You kept me well on my toes.” 

“I’m just glad to break your winning streak,” Robb said with a grin. Suddenly he felt a deep desire to spend more time with Jon. “Do you want to go riding later? Just you and me, we haven’t done that since the last moon, I’m sure of it.” 

“Tomorrow?” Jon asked amiably. “I told Dany that I would keep her company while she cleaned the sept.” 

Robb felt something twist inside him as Jon used the name “Dany.” He knew his brother did not mean to provoke him, may not even know the depths of Robb’s feelings about Daenerys, but it still made Robb jealous in a way that embarrassed him. It was like a key to a castle he would never have. He longed to break past the barriers around Daenerys Targaryen, the barriers behind which only Jon was allowed. 

“Yes, tomorrow then,” Robb said, hoping he had not let his face reveal anything. Jon was perceptive and usually seemed to know when something was wrong. “She could come to, if she wanted.”

Jon scratched behind his head at that, and tried his best to seem earnest when he said. “Perhaps. I’ll ask her.” 

Robb left him in the armory, stepping back into the cool air that felt good on his sweat-stained tunic. And almost barged right into Daenerys Targaryen. 

“Pardon, my lady,” Robb said awkwardly. He saw Arya was off talking to the guardsmen Cayn and had left Daenerys over here, standing right in front of the armory door. 

“You are excused, my lord ,” She said with a polite smile, though her last words were a bit mocking. Robb realized he had called her ‘my lady’ again, something she insisted was unnecessary and teased him about since they had spent the last four years spending almost every day taking the same lessons from Maester Luwin. 

“I – Daenerys,” Robb said, his face hot. “Just trying to remember my courtesies. What are you doing out here?” 

She seemed amused by the question. “Waiting for Jon, that’s all.” 

“He’s taking off his armor,” Robb said, stupidly. 

“I assumed so,” Danaerys said. “It seems you’ve improved as a swordsman since I last came to visit.” 

Robb hoped he had not smiled involuntarily at her words. “Each day is a chance to improve, Ser Rodrik says.” 

Daenerys nodded at that and then shifted her eyes back and forth. There was a long moment of silence where neither her nor Robb said anything. “So, are you waiting for Jon as well?” 

Robb felt unbelievably stupid. “No, I am headed off to see my lady mother,” Robb said. Daenerys' expression went from one of amusement to one of distaste. 

“Better be off then,” She said and Robb only nodded, moving off with a hasty word of farewell. 

Arya saw him stalking across the yard and ran across to see him. “Robb, what is a deserter?” 

He grinned and knelt down in front of his little sister. “A man who abandoned his duty for some reason or another. A criminal.” 

She always had some question, always greatly curious about the world, talking to everyone she could and asking as many questions as she could. 

“The guards kept saying the word when that rider came earlier,” Arya said, scrunching up her face. “I didn’t know what it meant. I’m going to the sept with Jon and Dany. Are you going somewhere with Theon?” 

Robb felt his feelings swirl inside him again at the question. Arya had always been close with Jon and had grown close to Daenerys after Lord and Lady Stark had started allowing their children to interact with the Targaryen girl. 

“No, mother told me to come see her after training,” Robb frowned. “Don’t you have to go to your extra needlework lesson with the septa?” 

“Not if she can’t find me,” Arya grinned. Robb grinned back at her.

“I haven’t seen you, then,” He said and Arya ran off. Robb headed towards the apartments above the Great Keep. 

Robb nodded at Desmond at the door who gave him a “m’lord” as he passed by, and ascended the stairs to his mother’s sitting room below Lord Eddard’s solar. Inside, the fire was crackling merrily in the hearth as his mother and Maester Luwin stood hunched over a book of accounts. 

“It is not enough,” Catelyn Stark said, not hearing Robb enter. “Last winter we had to send the Tallharts five wagons of food towards the end of winter. Respond with a bird telling them to set aside more.” 

“Yes, my lady,” Maester Luwin said. He looked up and nodded at Robb, then gave a light touch to mother’s shoulder to get her to turn. When she saw Robb, she gave him a smile. “That will be all, maester.” 

Luwin bowed and withdrew, and mother pulled a chair out for Robb. “How was your training?” 

“It went well,” Robb said, glad to be able to say it truly. “An improvement today, I’d say.” 

His mother nodded at that. She was a woman of some five and thirty years who looked so much like Sansa. But the years had added lines to her face before her time, and here and there an infrequent grey hair could be seen nestled within the auburn tresses that she had given to three of her children. 

“Skill at arms is important for a lord,” She said. His mother was always reminding him of things that would be important when he would one day be a lord, as if he had forgotten that he would be Lord of Winterfell one day. “But sums are just as important. Maester Luwin says you have been struggling lately on the more nettlesome equations.” 

Robb rolled his eyes. “Maester Luwin –” 

“Is just doing what I’ve asked of him, to tell me when any of my children are falling behind,” Catelyn Stark said, her blue eyes softening to show she was not trying to vex him. “Sums are important, especially for the Lord of the North.” 

“Did you bring me here to chastise me over my studies?” 

Mother put up her hands in a gesture of conciliation. “No. I’ve come to talk to you about a different duty.” 

Duty , Robb thought. It was a word he tended not to like. He knew he should be grateful that he should be Lord of Winterfell one day, that he would rule all the north, but it seemed increasingly like something that got in the way of more enjoyable things. Like laying in the grass in the godswood with Daenerys, a voice suggested that Robb suppressed angrily. 

“I have had a letter from Lord Karstark, inquiring about if your hand in marriage was still unengaged and if there would be any interest on our part in exploring the possibilities of a betrothal to his daughter, Alys,” She said with a serious look. 

Robb shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You wish for me to wed, then?” 

Mother shook her head. “No, but you are fourteen now and the question will start being asked more frequently. Soon, likely within the next year, your father and I will have to start thinking seriously about your prospects so that we can have an answer for lords like this. That is what I wanted to speak to you about. It will not happen overnight, but it will happen, and I do not wish for it to come as a surprise to you.” 

Robb nodded, thinking about how odd it felt to know his betrothed would be chosen for him soon. He could not feel any animus towards his mother about it – he knew that it was an experience she was familiar with. 

“Do you…” Robb started, curiosity getting the best of him. “Do you have any ideas, regarding my prospects?” 

Mother smiled widely at that, seeming to be glad that her inquiry had been met with some interest instead of resistance. 

“Your father and I have discussed the fact that since he married a southron woman, it may be prudent to wed you to a northern girl. Alys Karstark is a fine choice, but we may do better to choose one of the Manderly girls. Wynafryd is only a year older than you, and Wylla will come of age in a few years.” 

Robb nodded at that, both uncomfortable and intrigued by the discussion. Perhaps this was just what I need, as Theon said. Perhaps a woman would help the madness pass, and with a wife of my own I’d have no need for the Smoking Log . 

Mother looked at him, trying to read him as she always did and seemed to take his silence for some sort of disapproval. “In truth though, Robb, I have been arguing that we should take advantage of the fact that as the heir to Winterfell, you are one of the more eligible bachelors in the realm. Mace Tyrell has a daughter of your age, as does Yohn Royce. And Princess Myrcella is only a few years younger than you, if a princess would interest you.” 

Robb almost snorted. More than you know, Mother . He thought of Danaerys’ violet eyes again. 

But even so, the thought of marrying Myrcella Baratheon made his head swim a bit. The princess was said to be the spitting image of Queen Cersei Lannister at that same age. Robb had seen the queen at a feast once after Greyjoy’s Rebellion. He had never seen a woman that had stirred him such a primal way – and the thought of wedding a woman who looked like that made him wonder if he would ever be able to get his tongue untied. 

But even as he tried to imagine it, it was still her in the imagining. 

“I will think on what you’ve said, mother,” Robb said, shaking his head to push away the swimming thoughts. “It comes as no surprise. I know my duty to produce an heir.”

She smiled at that, as if relieved. Mother kissed his cheek. “Whomever we choose, she will be a lucky girl indeed.” 

Robb almost said it then, almost asked her. Catelyn Stark loved her children, but if Robb told her now that it was his desire to marry Daenerys Targaryen more than anyone, she would not smile at him. Robb knew how she felt about Daenerys – the same way she felt about Jon. Mother was never good at hiding her distaste for the two. Robb would find it harder to be angry with her over that distaste if he did not know his mother well-enough to know that it stemmed from fear. Fear that Jon would threaten her own trueborn children, and fear that Daenerys Targaryen would come between House Stark and House Baratheon. 

There was a knock on the door. “Come,” Mother called. Jory was on the other side. 

“Robb, your father has asked me to bring you to the Great Hall. There’s been a rider from the foothills of House Harclay, and your father would have you with him to receive him.” 

Robb looked at his mother, who nodded and gave him another kiss on the cheek. They both knew that this was one of Robb’s duties as heir to Winterfell. Ruling would one day pass to him, and the more he could be at father’s side when he was doing his ruling, the more prepared Robb would be. It was not a duty his brothers or sisters ever need worry about.

Jory and Robb walked across the frozen ground towards Winterfell’s Great Hall. The guards admitted them, and Robb saw Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and his father standing about near the high seat of the Starks. 

“Robb,” His father called to him when he saw Robb enter, gesturing for him to come closer. 

Lord Eddard Stark’s dark hair and beard were shot through with white. His eyes were dark and sharp, his smile gentle as his heir approached. 

“I hope I did not take you from anything?” His father asked as Maester Luwin bowed. 

“Just speaking with mother,” Robb said, thinking again of marriages and women in a way that made him feel uneasy, as if his father would be able to tell. 

“Good, well let’s hear from this rider then.” 

Robb found his place at the table below the high seat, to the right of his father. A place of high honor, the correct place for an heir. Thinking of the fact that he would be Lord of Winterfell one day always made him nervous. But he pushed those feelings aside. There was no way to avoid his fate, only to be able to face it with as much preparation as possible. He owed that to the people of Winterfell and the North, to rule as wisely as his father did. 

Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik sat beside Robb as the man at arms came in, wearing a blue surcoat with a white stripe through the middle. In the white stripe, a blue moon waxed and waned – the sigil of House Harclay. Robb thought back to his lessons with Maester Luwin and searched the mental inventory he created. This was one of the most basic things a great lord would need to know - who his bannermen were, and where their lands were located. He remembered that the Harclays were one of the lesser mountain clan houses, not as powerful as the Knotts or the Liddles, more on the level of the Burleys. He remembered the Harclays ruled the mountain clan lands closest to Winterfell, right where the northern edge of the Wolfswood met the southern foothills of the northern mountains. 

“M’lord, I were sent by Lord Donnor Harclay,” The rider said after Lord Eddard bid him approach. He knelt in front of the Warden of the North. “His lordship has taken a prisoner and wishes to seek the guidance of your lordship in what should be done with the man.” 

Robb stiffened. This was more interesting than the usual tedium. Most of the time when lords sent messages, it was regarding grain silos or village population counts or some minor border dispute between this lord and that. But Robb supposed the Harclays would have just sent a raven if it were the usual message. 

“On your feet. Tell me more,” Lord Stark said, always seeking more information before revealing any part of his thoughts on a matter. And Robb had noted that his father did not like to keep people kneeling while they spoke to him. 

“He’s a man of the Night’s Watch, my lord,” The rider said. “Was caught trying to steal a horse in a village on the edge of the Wolfswood, m’lord. Won’t say why he’s down from the Wall or if Lord Mormont sent him or nothin’ of the sort, m’lord.” 

Lord Stark rubbed his beard. “Lord Mormont would not have sent him to Lord Harclay’s lands to steal horses. Where is the man held?” 

“Lord Harclay’s men have him in chains at that same village,” The rider said. “His lordship did not want to take the man all the way back up to his keep in the hills if your lordship meant for him to be taken here, to Winterfell as it were.” 

“I will ride there on the morrow, so that the folk of this village that the man tried to steal from may put their words in on the matter,” Father said solemnly. “I will have my maester send a letter to your lord to alert him to the fact that I intend to take the man into my custody and dispense the king’s justice. You will stay here tonight and take us to this village on the morrow.” 

Robb nodded. It had been a few months at least since he had last gone with his father to see justice done. 

“Jory, find this man a warm room and have a hot meal sent up for him,” Lord Eddard said to his Captain of Guards. He turned his attention towards Robb, Luwin, and Ser Rodrik. “You three, with me.” 

Lord Eddard stood and went out the back door of the Great Hall. Robb let Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin fall in behind him, knowing his father would seek their counsel first. 

“Luwin, prepare the letter for Lord Harclay and one for Lord Mormont on the Wall. Let the Lord Commander know we may have another head for him soon, and see if there have been any desertions noted by the Night’s Watch of late. Ser Rodrik, I will take Jory, some guards, and my sons tomorrow and leave you in command of the garrison in my absence.” 

“Father, might we bring Bran tomorrow?” Robb called out. “You told him the last time that he would be allowed to come with us on the next trip to dispense justice.” 

Lord Stark nodded as they made their way up to his solar, Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik going off to see to their tasks. Lord Stark nodded at Desmond as they entered, and took a seat behind a large desk. Robb sat in a chair across from him. 

“Yes, I suppose it is time,” Father said, and then smiled. “And after the last time I denied him, I can imagine Bran would give us a time of it if we did not bring him.”

Lord Stark peered at his son. “Do you understand why I did not have the man brought here to Winterfell?” 

Robb knew the tone of his father’s voice, the barely concealed challenge in the question that indicated he was being tested in his understandings of what would be required of a ruler. 

“The folk in the village, they need to see you dispense justice,” Robb said with little doubt. “And the smallfolk will know more of the man’s crimes and can tell you about it.” 

His father nodded. “When I dispense justice, I do it in the name of King Robert. It belongs to the highborn and the low alike. We do not always need to hide it away behind castle walls.” 

Robb felt pleased that he had been right. His father searched his face. 

“You’re far away,” He observed, looking at Robb’s eyes. “Your mother told me she was going to speak to you of –” 

“She did.” 

Eddard Stark smiled gently. “We do not have to act soon. A year, maybe two. There is no need to rush. 

“Father, you were unpromised until your brother Brandon died?” Robb asked. The question took his father aback.

“Yes, that’s right. My brief betrothal to your mother was the first I ever had.” 

“Did you ever…” Robb trailed off, unsure of how to ask it. “Before mother, was there ever…” 

“Did I ever love a woman before your mother?” Father asked softly, rescuing him. “Truth be told Robb, I do not think I understood such concepts at that young age.” 

Robb nodded, unsure. His father went on, but he stood and put a hand on Robb’s shoulder. 

“You have duties, Robb. Yours will not be an easy life, no matter what anyone says. I know that there are…things you may want, things you cannot have.” 

His father looked at him in a way that made Robb wonder if he knew exactly what his son’s problem was. 

“The best advice I can give you is this: people rely on you. You must put your duty first. It will not make you glad, Robb. But it is necessary.” 

“I understand,” Robb said. And truly, he did. 

After taking his leave from his father, Robb walked across the yard. He needed to find Theon, goad him into some extra sparring. Robb needed to hit something. 

He saw Jon and Daenerys, little Arya trailing after them. Daenerys looked radiant with sunlight shining off her silver hair. She saw him across the yard and gave him a light smile as the group turned to move towards the godswood. 

Robb smiled back, but thought of his father’s words. 

It did not make him glad.

Chapter 9: The Pack

PART TWO: The Ward

Arya held up the stitching she was working on. The stitches were crooked, still. All over. 

Dany grasped it in her hands, looked at it closely, and gave Arya an encouraging smile. 

“Better. Much better.”

“You’re just being nice again,” Arya said, miserably. “It’s not any better and Septa Mordane and Mother and Sansa know it.” 

“You’re thinking too much about it,” Dany said gently, putting the stitching back in Arya’s hands. It was late afternoon, and the two of them sat atop the inner wall of Winterfell near the Hunter’s Gate, looking out over the landscape of the Wolfswood as Dany continued her often fruitless attempts of trying to help Arya with her needlework. 

“When you stitch, I can tell you’re thinking more about what your mother or Sansa or the septa would think instead of just doing it,” Dany said. “You’re good with your hands, I have seen it many a time. You can get this.” 

The wind whipped Arya’s already ratty nest of dark hair as a gust moved over Winterfell. The skirts of Dany’s white novice’s robes flapped slightly around her legs. 

“I don’t even want to be good at this, it’s stupid and I don’t like it,” Arya said. Dany gave her a withering look. 

“If we only tried to be good at things we liked doing, what kind of world would it be?” Dany said, trying as she often did to help Arya see things beyond the world of being a high lord’s daughter. If someone had said these things to Sansa when she was a bit younger, it would have been helpful. “You think every cook who made you a meal or every stable boy who saddled your horse for you did it well just because they liked doing it? Come now, you’ll try again and it will get better, I promise.” 

Arya chewed on that thoughtfully, then nodded. “It would help if Septa Mordane liked me better.” 

Dany knew Septa Mordane more than she knew anyone, besides Jon of course. “Septa Mordane is just trying to be good at what she is supposed to do – prepare you for the life of a highborn lady. And if the septa is working to make sure you’re doing something right, it means she likes you. Trust me.” 

Finally, Arya Stark deflated at those words and looked back down at her needlework. “I suppose I can try again.” 

Dany smiled in victory. “It is the only way to get better.” 

“I wish Sansa was more like you, she only looks at me like I’m stupid when my needlework is crooked,” Arya said, putting her stitching down and looking out over the landscape once more. 

There was much and more that Daenerys Targaryen might have said about Sansa Stark. Dany at ten and four was a year older than Sansa, but with each year that passed the less Dany felt like she knew her.

Those few years ago, when first Dany had been accepted as a member of Lord Eddard’s household in truth, not just a hostage being raised by the Faith, Sansa and Dany had become fast friends. They shared a love of songs, stories about honorable knights and ladies fair, and dresses. When Dany was allowed to start sitting at the high table with Lord Eddard and his family, Sansa started to make a point of sitting next to her, so they could giggle and whisper at each other through the meal. Sansa was always telling Dany how pretty she was, and wanted to braid her hair and have her try on dresses. Dany had found it all very fun. Jon was Dany’s best friend, but Dany longed to do girl things that Jon just might not understand. 

That had changed though. It was clear that Lady Catelyn did not fully agree with her lord husband’s decision to treat Dany as a ward in truth. She had frowned all through that first meal Dany spent at the high table, and courteously but coldly rebuffed Dany’s attempts to make casual conversation with her. And more and more it seemed Catelyn Stark was taking note of Sansa’s friendship with Dany. 

Lady Stark must have spoken to her eldest daughter. Dany remembered that it was around the same time that Sansa started referring to Jon exclusively as her “bastard half-brother,” something she never did before. But she started to treat Dany coldly, and when Dany tried to spend time with her, Sansa asked pointed questions about why King Robert did not like the Targaryens or why King Aerys had been mad. These were not things Sansa was likely to learn without being told. 

The spark of friendship that had snuffed out had formed into resentment. Now, Sansa only ever called Jon her “bastard half-brother” and Dany her “father’s ward.” Dany felt sorry for her – Sansa never tried to learn anything other than those things her mother thought were valuable for a young lady. It was why she and Jon preferred Arya’s company. 

“Sansa and I are different people,” Dany demurred after a long, thoughtful moment. “That’s all.” 

“Look!” Arya shouted out suddenly, pointing to a group of riders coming south down the Kingsroad. The Stark banner flapped in the wind, the grey direwolf hard to see with the wind moving it. There were the guards and then Lord Eddard and his sons, and of course Theon Greyjoy. She could see Robb on his dappled gelding, little Bran on his pony. Finally, she saw Jon trailing behind on his horse smiled at the sight of him. 

“Run along, Arya,” Dany said with a gentle pat on the back. “I have to go see Septon Chayle and your father will want to see you on his return, I am sure of it." 

Arya nodded and the two of them scurried down the ladder, Arya off to greet her lord father in the yard. Dany moved off towards the sept, and found Septon Chayle praying inside before the altar of the Father. 

The man was only a little older than twenty, but Chayle looked like he had grown much older than that since Septon Orland’s death. When the good old septon’s health had taken a turn, he had written a letter asking that Chayle be allowed to take his vows as a septon. Chayle had traveled to King’s Landing and met with the High Septon, and been anointed with the seven oils. Since then, the sept had been his charge, and Septa Mordane had gone from a woman who bossed him about to his subordinate. 

Dany had cried for weeks after Septon Orland died. The old man had seen more than sixty namedays, which Maester Luwin informed her was quite rare. That did not make the loss any easier. 

Chayle did not turn away from his prayers when she entered, but spoke quietly under his breath and finished them before turning to see who had joined him. He smiled when he saw her. 

“Dany,” He said. His smile turned to a searching look. “Septa Mordane was looking for you. She said you did not complete your chores before going off to your free time.” 

“I did so,” Dany said haughtily as she sat on one of the benches along the edge of the sept. “The septa means to say that I did not do them exactly as she would.” 

“Septa Mordane sets the standard for how the chores should be done,” Septon Chayle chided her, sitting on the bench parallel to Dany’s. In the small, seven-sided building, they were not far away from each other but still had the entirety of the little sept between them. 

“Fine. For me, maybe, but she’s too hard on the Stark girls. When I am a septa, girls like Arya will not have to run in fear from me.”

When I am a septa , Dany thought again. As she thought about those words, she had to will herself not to register any feelings outwardly. 

“Improve upon what you have been taught if you think you can,” Chayle shrugged. “I am not Septon Orland. I could not be if I wanted to, but even if I could I would not be. He would want me to do better. I am sure Lord Eddard would want young Robb to be a better lord than he even was.” 

Dany nodded. She liked that, the idea that things get better over the generations. Though in truth, Orland was not Chayle’s father and Mordane was not Dany’s mother. 

“Have you thought about…” Chayle started and Dany shook her head. Chayle frowned. 

“You will need to decide soon,” He continued. “You are four and ten. I’ve known girls with half your wits to take their vows at two and ten. It is almost time.” 

“I know,” Dany said, but her foot tapped against the sept's floor as she thought of it. “I want more time, though. I’ll do my chores better, I swear it.” 

Chayle sighed. “That is not why I push the issue. Dany, the day you take your vows is the day you will truly be safe. A septa cannot legally sit a throne, nor wed if you brother should choose to try and steal you away again. You will be safe .” 

Dany shivered as she remembered the night in the woods. Belios and Staros . She could not forget their names, or their faces. A thousand times she had wondered: was it just that her brother had hired evil men by mistake, not knowing they would hurt her if she resisted? Or had her brother not cared if she had gotten hurt at all?

And still, the things Chayle said made sense. This was the point of her training as a novice in the first place – to keep her safe. She was old enough to know now that if Ned Stark had not put her to that task, King Robert would likely have no qualms of killing her, babe or no. He had no qualms about killing Rhaegar’s children. 

Aegon and Rhaenys. Had Aegon lived, he would have been around her same age. She might have even wed him, and lived as Queen Consort of all the Seven Kingdoms. The thought made her feel that deep, fiery anger she so often felt. 

“I know, Chayle,” Dany said. “But they’ll send me away when I am a septa, to serve some highborn girls or under some septon. I’ll have to leave you. And Arya, Bran…” 

“Jon?” Chayle asked her, searching her face. He knew. Chayle was no fool, and had known Dany all her life. 

“And Jon,” She tried to say casually. Septon Chayle’s lips quirked in a way as if he wanted to say something. 

“You know that we are more than a septon and a novice septa, you and I,” Chayle said gently. “My brother died in Robert’s Rebellion, as you know, and I never had any sisters. You are the closest thing to a sibling I shall ever have. You can speak to me on any matters, and I will come to you as a brother, not a septon. We can speak frankly, if frank speech is what you might need.” 

Dany stood, walking across the room and kissed his cheek. She smiled amiably in the hopes that it may seem he did not strike a nerve. “Thank you, Chayle. I know. If there is ought I need to speak of, it will be with you.” 

He did not look satisfied, but did not press the issue. “Go see Septa Mordane and see to the chores she has left.” 

“I will,” Dany promised. Later . 

***

Dany made her way to the godswood through the yard and was waved down by Maester Luwin. “My lady!” He called. Dany stopped and smiled. 

“Good day, Maester,” She said. “How do you fare?” 

“I am well. I looked over the translation you gave me. Almost perfect, but still you are mixing up certain verb conjugations,” Luwin said. He had been, at Dany’s request, taking extra time in the evenings to give her a daily lesson on High Valyrian. “I will give you my corrections after the lesson tomorrow. I have come with a letter.” 

Dany tried not to smile too widely as he produced from his sleeves a rolled parchment sealed with a glob of black wax. She took it and grinned. 

“Thank you, maester,” Dany said.

“Let me know if you wish to make a reply,” Luwin said as he bowed, and went off to attend to whatever tasks he had. Dany hurried on to the godswood, hoping she would beat Jon there and have time to read her letter. 

She did, finding the godswood was empty as servants and guards alike scurried about the castle, seeing to the needs of the returning Lord Stark. Dany went past the Heart Tree with its serious face, going towards the western side of the godswood where she and Jon Snow had met nearly every day since that Maiden’s Day when she was ten and fell out of the heart tree.

She found the small clearing empty, and sat back against an ironwood tree to break the wax of the letter in her hand. 

When the first letter of its sort had arrived, Dany had been twelve. Maester Luwin had gone to Lord and Lady Stark even though it had been addressed to Daenerys. There had been several days before Maester Luwin had been allowed to bring it to Dany. It had been another few days of internal discussion before Dany had been allowed to pen a reply. After the decision had been made to allow Dany to both receive and respond to the letters, it was hard not to note that Lady Stark did not look at Lord Stark through several of their meals. 

Dany unrolled the parchment and looked at Maester Aemon’s precise hand. She could see that he was responding to some of her recent letter’s questions regarding Prince Rhaegar, who Aemon had once similarly corresponded with. 

Daenerys, 

Your brother certainly did believe in the possibility of a Summer that Never Ends, but did not believe it would arrive without a period similar to the Long Night coming once more. That was why he so adamantly believed in chasing prophecy – he believed it necessary for the good of the realm. But since Rhaegar’s death and that of his children, I have thought less of prophecy than I had in years past. Perhaps there is no way to portend the future. 

On a lighter note, I can answer your question about your grandfather. I remember speaking with King Jaehaerys when he was still just Prince Jaehaerys. Like your great-grandfather, Aegon, Jaehaerys never anticipated he would sit the Iron Throne. Prince Duncan, your great uncle and Aegon’s oldest son was a promising and courtly young knight who was well-liked. No man anticipated he would one day forsake his inheritance for his Jenny. 

I digress though, you asked of Jaehaerys. I often found him an able and studious boy. He corresponded often with me when I was still at the Citadel. And when my brother Aegon died at Summerhall, I knew Jaehaerys was without kin and tried to counsel him as best I could from afar. The interest your brother had in prophecy was planted with him, and he asked me of the subject often. I will try and think of more I could tell you of him, and include it in my next letter. 

I hope your studies are going well, and that you are healthy and happy. As to your most pressing question in your last letter, I would advise you that we all have duties. It is not easy to keep to them in the face of other feelings, particularly love. But I would ask you to consider: the realm suffered because Prince Duncan loved Jenny more than he loved his duty. That love was surely good and pure. But that did not make the consequences of choosing it any less dire.

Your kinsman, 

Aemon Targaryen 

The letter warmed her heart as it always did. But the sentiment at the end was the answer she had expected him to give. 

“What did Aemon have to say this time?” An extremely familiar voice said from the treeline. Dany looked up to see Jon Snow, tall and serious, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He had a bundle in his arms. 

“Would it be honorable to insist upon intruding on a lady’s private correspondence?” She teased him, though in truth she did not want him to read the letter, so she folded it up and tucked it in the silver rope belt she wore along her waist. 

“Fine, then I won’t share my news with you, and it is very exciting,” Jon said, turning his nose up teasingly. But then the bundle in his arms squirmed curiously, and he cursed. “Bloody hell.” 

Dany looked up at him in confusion, then gasped with glee as a small white pup bounded from Jon’s arms and landed on its feet on the soft, ancient ground of the godswood. It looked up at Dany with red eyes, then cocked its head. 

Suddenly it was bounding towards her, and leapt into her lap as Dany giggled, falling back to the ground as the pup began to lavish her face with licks. Jon, as solemn as he was so often these days, chuckled as he stepped forward and sat down beside her. 

Dany sat up with the pup in her arms as it nuzzled close to her chest. “What is this?” She asked, breathless. 

“We found them, six pups, their mother dead in the snow,” Jon started, and recounted the whole tale to Dany. From the Night’s Watch deserter executed by Lord Stark to the fact that Jon had contented himself with not having a pup of his own just so his siblings could have them, and finally of his discovery of this albino direwolf pup. 

“A direwolf…” Dany thought. “With a stag’s antler in its throat?”

Jon nodded gravely. “I could tell that father and some of the guards could understand the sign there. Maybe Theon too, but all is a joke to him. But Robb seemed as clueless about it as Bran did. And my father does not put any faith in such signs.”

Dany did not agree with Lord Eddard’s choice to not put faith in signs, not when the cryptic words of a woman in the night had lead to her finding a dragon’s egg and perhaps saved her from going with Belios and Staros that night in the woods. 

“But no matter,” Jon said, stiffening as if he too did not believe in such things. He wanted so much to be like his father, Dany knew, even if he did not say it. “Ghost is mine.” 

“Ghost?” Dany asked. 

“I think so. He never makes a sound, and he’s white as the snow.” 

“Ghost,” Dany said again, smiling, and holding the pup up near her face. She laughed again as it renewed its licking of her face. 

As she laughed, she caught Jon looking at her in that way he often did. He was such a serious boy, and laughed even less than he smiled. But there was no one in this world Dany knew better. And right now he was looking at her in that way he often looked at a sunset or at a pretty, snowy day. 

Dany held Ghost in her lap now and met Jon’s gaze. What would he do if I leaned over and kissed him now? She found she wanted that deeply. Even having him gone for half a day, she had found she missed him. 

It’s not like they hadn’t kissed before. Years ago, when Jon learned Robb had kissed Jeyne Poole in the yard, on a dare from Theon, Jon and her had discussed how they knew nothing of kissing and had decided they should try it. But those short, perfunctory pecks that they had tried back then was not what Dany wanted now. She wanted Jon to kiss her like a man kissed a woman. 

Jon finally broke the silence as they looked at each other. He was blushing, suddenly, and looked down at the grass. 

“I thought about you, while you were gone,” Dany said in a whisper. As soon as she said it she did not know why she had. But these charged feelings that seemed to lay between them more and more felt like they needed to be addressed. The way she felt when she watched him sweating in the yard. The way his eyes lingered on the curves that had become more defined on her body of late, a way he had never looked at her before. The way they both slipped their hands away quickly from each other if they chanced to touch, where when they were children they would play games and never worry if they touched hands. 

“What…what did you think about?” Jon asked, made awkward by her statement. 

“You. It’s stupid, but…I actually went to the sept and prayed,” Dany said. “Prayed that you would return safe to Winterfell.” 

“It was just a short ride north –” Jon started. 

“I know.” Dany looked at him and felt her face get hot. “But I think of you when your gone, and I worry. Worry that you won’t make it back, that something will happen to you, that you’ll be killed or you’ll be hurt or –” 

Tears were streaming down her face now and his arms were around her, and he was making a soft shushing sound. It was not the first time she had spiraled so easily, and not the first time he had had to calm her so. He was good at it, and never voiced a word of complaint. She leaned into his embrace and felt better, felt like she did not live in this world where all her kin had been brutally killed and that if she thought of having any sort of life other than that of a septa, she would be killed as well. Dany pressed her face against his shoulder as Ghost moved to lay beside them. 

“I am back, I came back,” Jon said quietly. “I am here.” 

Yes, Dany thought. But for how long? 

Chapter 10: The King

Notes:

Wrote these next two chapters a bit slower than I intended -- I hope you'll bear with me as I intend to get the next few chapters out much more quickly, especially now that we're getting to some really interesting scenes. Hope you enjoy!

That night, Daenerys Targaryen dreamt of dragons. 

Dragons were nothing new to her dreams, well, one particular dragon. A small, white and silver dragon, no larger than the size of a small dog. It was the same dragon she had seen in the crypts during her first dream, all those long years ago. 

But since she took the dragon egg from the crypts, she never dreamt of them anymore. She would awake in the dream in her own room, or at least a dream version of it. And the dragon would be there, sitting on her bed.

But tonight was the first night that she also dreamt of wolves. 

The dragon was not in her room when she realized she was dreaming. But the door was open, and Dany could hear howling through it. She stood and lit a taper, the small flame making her feel better as she made her way to the darkness outside the door. 

It was not the familiar corridor outside her and Mordane’s room that would either lead to stairs or down to Septon Chayle’s chambers. No, this was a dark, cavernous castle hall. She could tell that. Dany could not see more than a few feet in front of her, only the distance that the candle would illuminate. But to her left, along the wall, she saw a black, terrible dragon’s skull staring down at her. 

She looked at it for a moment, when something skittered past her feet. A pup. A wolf pup. Dany had seen it for only a few moments, but somehow knew it was Arya’s. Nymeria, that pup was named. The direwolf pup had been running in fear from something, Dany knew. The dragon? She wondered and kept walking. 

Then her feet bumped something metal, and Dany recoiled. There was a whimper when she looked down to see Lady, Sansa’s direwolf pup sitting on her haunches. But she was restrained, contained in a cage. It was shaped the same way as one of Maester Luwin’s raven’s cages, but this one was gilded with gold. Dany knelt to try and open it for Lady, but there was a growl a few feet away. 

Dany turned to see Grey Wind growling, baring his teeth. But not at Dany – at shadows unseen, at something that was both visible and invisible, enemies all around. Shaggydog scampered by her feet, and in the same way Dany knew Nymeria had been fleeing, she knew Shaggydog was doing the same. 

Dany kept walking and came across Bran’s wolf, the one he had not yet named, sitting atop a white pillow embroidered with red. He did not move from his perch, his legs tucked under himself as he looked at Dany without fear and with eyes that made her feel like it knew more about her than she could ever know about herself. 

A high, shrill voice of a man rang out from the darkness. “Let him be king of charred bone and cooked meat. Let him be king of ashes." 

Suddenly, Dany was afraid and she ran forward, and the taper went out from the motion, and she was surrounded by darkness. There were whispers in that darkness, enemies unseen. Grey Wind ran to her, standing beside her as he bared his teeth at the darkness again, but Dany could hear the whimpering of the other wolf pups from the darkness, as if they too were afraid. Dany wanted to help them, to guide them out of this darkness. They wanted their mother, somehow she knew. They cried out, but Jon had said the mother of these wolves was dead in the snow. 

Suddenly there was a cry from afar. Dany could tell it was a high-pitched screeching, but to her it sounded like a song. She turned and suddenly the room was alight as the white dragon blew a blast of fire above its head from where it perched. 

The whimpering stopped, the darkness was driven away. And Dany saw the dragon and the wolves. 

The dragon sat proudly atop the mantle, above the wolves. To its right, just below it, sat the white-furred, red-eyed pup that could only be Ghost. The other direwolf pups lay below the dragon in postures of submission, all of them but Grey Wind. Robb’s pup was nowhere to be seen now.

The dragon hissed, and breathed its red fire up above it’s head.

***

She had not told Jon about the dream when he came to peek in on her sweeping the sept, bringing Dany a tart he had filched from the kitchens. Somehow the dream felt wrong, foreboding in a way that Dany felt she did not want to share. Instead, she let Jon show her the new tricks he was teaching Ghost. 

“Now sit,” Jon said firmly, wearing his training leathers and a training sword at his belt. Ghost looked up at him and cocked his head, remaining standing. “Others take him, he did it earlier.” 

Dany could not help but laugh as she finished a small bite of the tart. “They say a dog takes after its master. I’ve spent years trying to get you to sit still to no avail, Jon Snow.” 

“I shudder to see what behavior Nymeria will have then,” Jon japed and they both laughed. 

Dany pointed with her broom to the small brown pawprints leading from the door to the sept to where Ghost stood. “Perhaps next you might train him not to track dirt in just after I’ve swept.” 

Jon cursed and knelt, taking a cloth from his belt to ineffectually wipe at the place Ghost’s paws had sullied. Ghost only cocked his head and looked up at Dany. She could not help but laugh at Jon’s seriousness, as always. 

“Jon, it was a jape,” She said with a giggle, and took his arm to help him rise back to his feet. “I’ll finish cleaning the sept, you go train. Ghost can track dirt in here whenever he pleases.” 

“He’ll be better trained soon,” Jon insisted and Dany nudged him with the end of the broom for his seriousness. 

“Go train,” She said again with a smile, and he smiled back at her as he left the sept. 

Dany turned back to her tasks. She replaced candles, sanded some of the rough spots on the benches, took note of places on the images of the Seven she could touch up. As she worked, she thought of all Septon Chayle said of her decision to come – and of the dream. 

The dream seemed as real as those dreams that had first brought her down to the crypts, but this time it would not be so easy as simply going where the dreams showed her – the room with the dragon skulls was not somewhere she had ever heard of. Most of all, she thought of the dragon.

The dragon. When Septa Mordane was away, and Dany took her dragon egg out long enough to look at it, she somehow could feel that the dragon from her dream belonged to that egg. But that could not be. Even if one were to hatch from this egg, it was not like anyone would let her keep it. Most like, King Robert would order it killed before it could grow too large – and her along with it for the crime of concealing the egg. 

And the dragons were all dead. On that, men seemed certain. 

“The sept is spotless, my lady,” A familiar voice said from behind her. Septa Mordane stood in the doorway, her sharp eyes taking in every inch of the interior of the small wooden building. “You could have moved on to enjoy some of this sunny morning had you wanted to.” 

My lady , she had said. Mordane had started calling Dany that around the same time that she had been allowed to start taking lessons alongside the Starks. 

“Someone once told me that the sept is the gods’ house, and that leaving it even a bit unclean would offend the gods,” Dany said, shooting her a playfully accusatory look. 

Mordane sniffed and held her chin up proudly. “It sounds as if someone very wise indeed told you that.” 

Dany smiled. That was about about as much humor as Septa Mordane ever allowed herself, but Dany had oft noted that she only ever saw it come out when she and the septa were alone. Never did she even come close to such a jape in front of Sansa or Arya or even Septon Chayle. She was correct and formal all the time, but would allow herself the tiniest bit of relaxed nature. But only with Dany. 

Mordane would never have a daughter, and Dany would never have a mother. But they had each other, and perhaps that could be enough. 

“I have been asked to send you to see Lord Stark,” Mordane said, crossing the sept to take Dany’s hand and drawing her down next to her on the bench. “In his solar.” 

Dany frowned. Since the day she and Jon had been brought back to Winterfell after their fruitless, childish flight from Winterfell, Lord Stark had been friendly to her at table or about the castle, and even a bit familiar at times. He praised her needlework when he came to look in on his daughters every once in a while and asked her about her studies. But she had not been summoned to see him alone in his solar since she was a little girl. 

“Why would he need to see me?” 

Mordane could tell she was nervous and took her hands. “I have heard gossip among the servants. King Robert is coming to Winterfell to see Lord Eddard.” 

Dany’s hands began to shake a bit and Mordane clasped them tighter in her slightly-wrinkled, bony hands. “Not for you child, no, not for you. The Hand of the King is dead. Jon Arryn. The talk is that if the king is coming all this way, it can only mean that King Robert plans to name Lord Eddard in his place.” 

Dany breathed a little easier now that the momentary idea that King Robert was coming here to take her head was gone from her mind. And yet still she reeled internally at the thought of being in the same castle as Robert Baratheon. “What does Lord Eddard wish to speak to me about then?” 

“I am sure he intends for you to know what is expected of you during this visit,” Mordane said gently. 

“King Robert hates Targaryens…” Dany started, her mind racing and spiraling now as it had so many times before, as it had yesterday in the godswood with Jon. “He killed my brother, and he’ll want to…he’ll want me…” 

“No child, no,” Septa Mordane said gently. “You are to be a septa of the faith. Nothing more. No one intends you harm. But you must go speak to Lord Eddard. Are you…are you able to go now?” 

Dany let herself breath in deeply and out again, long deep breaths as Maester Luwin had insisted would help in such situations. She felt a bit better. “Yes, Septa. I’ll go to him now.” 

She took her hand as she stood. “Dany, I know Septon Chayle spoke to you of your vows. It might be easier if you were a septa by the time that King Robert was here.” 

Dany knew that she was right, but only said: “I’ll think on it, septa. I will.” 

At that, she headed for Lord Eddard’s solar. 

The sun beat down warm on the yard as a cold northern wind blew against her. Reaching the Great Keep. Dany, looked up and took note of a shape moving upward along one of the walls. 

Bran Stark had Robb’s coloring, and Sansa’s and Rickon’s and Catelyn’s. The wind blew his auburn hair as he climbed upward. The sight of him climbing despite all the attempts to get him to stop made her smile, and cooled the chill inside her at the thought of King Robert visiting. 

“Your mother will be vexed, Bran,” Dany called up to him. He looked down at her and grinned. 

“Only if someone tells her,” He said, and scurried on up past the lip of a wooden roof and out of sight. 

Dany turned and continued on, nodding at Harwin who guarded the doors to Lord Eddard’s solar. When she was admitted, her heart stopped in her chest. Lord Stark was not seated at his accustomed place. 

It was Lady Stark who sat at the desk, reading a parchment. 

Blue eyes glanced up at her as Catelyn Stark heard the door open. They narrowed at the sight of her. It was a familiar sight – Dany had grown accustomed to it since that day that Lord Eddard had allowed his Targaryen hostage to start interacting with his children. That look was equal parts distaste and fear. And Dany was old enough to know that fear was at the heart of it – as if the treason of Daenerys Targaryen’s birth might be passed on to Catelyn Stark and her husband, or, even worse, her children. 

Jon got a different look from Catelyn Stark – one that held much more loathing than fear. 

Dany curtsied quickly as she entered the room. “My lady. I…” Her tongue tied up in her mouth as it so often did when she was required to speak to Lady Stark. “I was told to come speak with Lord Stark.” 

“Yes,” Lady Stark said with cool courtesy. Other folk about the castle had started calling Daenerys “my lady” or “Lady Daenerys” since the day she started sitting up at the high table with the Starks. Even lord Eddard himself had afforded her the courtesy in their interactions. But not Catelyn Stark. She would never get such an honorific from her lips, nor even the sound of her own name. “Lord Stark had a raven he needed to answer with some urgency. I suggested that I would be able to have the necessary discussion with you in his stead.” 

“Yes, my lady, as you wish,” Dany said meekly, not daring to take a chair until one was offered to her. None was. Lady Stark remained sitting, and Dany remained standing. 

“Are you aware that King Robert is coming to Winterfell?” She asked, her face noble and proud and stiff. 

“Yes, my lady.” 

“Good. You must be made aware as well that certain practices that have become custom for you these last few years must cease during this visit. It will be expected that you see to your duties as Septa Mordane’s apprentice and nothing more.” 

Dany shifted on her feet. A part of her felt relieved by the command. If she was just a novice septa, there would be no reason for her to interact with the royal party during their visit. A part of her felt a blooming apprehension though – no doubt Lady Stark would prefer if she was nothing more than Septa Mordane’s apprentice, and a part of her had the somewhat childish fear that everything would go back to the way it was when she was a girl of ten. 

“My lady, do you mean –” Dany started. 

“I am not finished,” She cut Dany off sharply and Dany studied the lines of her own shoes. “You will keep to the sept, or to the apartments above the sept. You will not sit at the high table during any meals. You will take your meals in your rooms. I will not have you playing in the godswood with Lord Eddard’s bastard while the royal party is about. And you are not to be overly familiar with any of my children while in sight of the royal party. King Robert expects to find you a novice prepared to take your vows and nothing more.” 

Dany felt her eyes get hot at the words. She did not want to cry, not in front of Lady Stark. I am the blood of the dragon , she reminded herself, willing her despair to rechannel into anger. That familiar hatred entered her gut – not only for herself, but for Jon, who this woman had never allowed to be a true member of the Stark family. 

“And if a member of the royal party wishes to speak to me?” Dany said, feeling insolence rising into her words from the anger in her. 

Catelyn narrowed her eyes further, steepling her hands on the desk. “And why would that happen?” 

Dany pursed her lips. “Your own children seem to take interest in me. What would my lady recommend I do should the young princes and princess in the royal party also take an interest in me? They’re of an age with your children after all.” 

Dany savored the look of annoyance on Catelyn’s face at the reminder that no amount of disdain from her could change the fact that her own children actually liked Dany, for the most part. She shielded her heart for the rebuke that was no doubt coming, but Catelyn Stark only sighed. 

“This is not some game,” Catelyn said wearily, her face softening but the annoyance not leaving her eyes. “Your safety and the safety of my family is at risk during this visit. If it were up to me, you would have taken your vows a year ago and we would have been well rid of you. To answer your question: you should make every effort to avoid the Princes Joffrey and Tommen, as well as Princess Myrcella. I do not think King Robert will take very kindly to Rhaegar Targaryen’s sister becoming friendly with his children. And no matter how insolent you choose to be to me, King Robert can make your life infinitely more difficult than you would like.” 

The anger was deflating from her, her desire to annoy Lady Catelyn replaced with the fear of Robert Baratheon’s inevitable arrival at Winterfell and what it might mean for her. 

“Yes, my lady,” Dany said demurely. 

“I will inform Septa Mordane and Septon Chayle of these restrictions. Ensure that you keep to them, lest I have to involve the guards in keeping you restrained during the king’s visit. You may take your leave.” 

Dany opened her mouth to speak but said nothing, her eyes hot again to her vast irritation. She only nodded and turned for the door, walking quickly past Harwin as she headed for the stairs. The tears flowed now, despite all, as the fear and embarrassment and all of it bubbled to the surface, and she knew she needed desperately to get back to her room. 

*** 

It was two more weeks before Robert Baratheon arrived at Winterfell. 

Dany watched from the window in her room, Septa Mordane’s hand placed gently on her shoulder. Mordane knew that Dany was afraid, but if the gods gave the septa so many wonderful skills, talking about one’s feelings was not one of them. So they stood together quietly as the royal party and its escort rode in through Winterfell’s south gate, where Dany and Jon had once tried to make an escape. 

The Stark children stood in a line behind their parents with half the castle folk about in the yard, and almost all the guards. Theon stood near Jory a few rows back. Jon had been hidden away somewhere, as Dany had been. 

As she watched a large man with a large black beard ride in, flanked by two knights in snowy white cloaks. King Robert Baratheon. As she watched him dismount and approach Lord Eddard Stark, Dany could only think of her dragon egg, hidden well beneath the floorboards under her bed.

Chapter 11: Of Shadows

“I’ll stay only an hour or two, then sneak off,” Jon promised her as they spoke together in the sept. 

Dany sat beneath the altar of the mother, fiddling with her hands in her lap. 

“You can stay as long as you like, it’s nothing to me,” She lied. The setting sun seeped in through the high glass windows, and Dany shifted to keep it out of her face. Jon looked at her thoughtfully, sitting opposite her under the altar of the father. 

“I just want to get a good look at the royal family,” Jon said, as if Dany had protested. 

“I told you, it does not matter to me,” She said, giving him her best feigned smile. As usual, Dany could tell he had seen through it. “I’ll be here when you return.” 

Septa Mordane and Septon Chayle would have places of honor at the feast as well, not on the high table but near the salt. Dany had been bid to stay away from the royal family. She had seen them through her window. Handsome young Joffrey, plump little Tommen, and Princess Myrcella – a copy of her mother, Queen Cersei, in so many ways. 

And King Robert. She had seen him out in the yard when he arrived. Dany had always imagined him as a large, strong man with a wicked face and cold dark eyes. But the truth had revealed a fat man, sweating through his silks, with a jovial if not tired-looking face. 

Dany had been more afraid of the sight of Ser Jaime Lannister, the knight who had forsworn his vows and murdered her father. He was every bit the handsome knight like something out of a storybook. That was dangerous – Dany did not like to know someone who was so evil could look so fair. 

“You and I can go off to the godswood when I’m back,” Jon said, standing to move to sit by her, and taking her hand. “Dress warmly, it’s meant to be cold tonight.” 

I’d rather lay in your arms for warmth, Dany thought, but simply reveled in the feeling of her hand in his. 

“Come fetch me from here when you’re done. And Jon, truly, do not think too much of the seating,” She said. His face twisted slightly at that. 

Yesterday, Lady Catelyn had informed Jon he would not be sitting with his family on the high table during this feast. He had been bargaining ever since then, talking to her of nothing else but the benefits he would glean from getting to sit down below the salt, drink as much as he wants, and meet all sorts of interesting people. But Dany knew him near as well as she knew the back of her own hand, and could see through it, could see he was trying to convince himself not to be sad about it – as she was trying to convince herself not to be sad about being excluded from the feast entirely. 

“I told you, I’m glad to be seated –” He started and Dany put a finger to his lips. 

“I know,” She said gently, playing along with his ruse. “And you have no reason to care where you are seated. There is more measure to a man than where he is seated at a feast.” 

Jon nodded, and she could tell the reminder was of meaning to him. He gave her hand a squeeze and gave her one of his smiles that he hid from so many people other than her. 

“The best seat will be in the godswood tonight,” He teased, smiling at her. He stood and after a few more quiet words between them, and took his leave. 

Day turned to night as Dany read a book by candlelight in the sept. It was an interesting little tome written by a Maester Josmyn, who had been the maester at the Shadow Tower during the reign of her great-grandfather, the fifth Aegon. Maester Aemon had sent it and a number of other books to Dany with Benjen Stark when Lord Eddard’s came to Winterfell for the king’s visit. She would be allowed to read them before sending them back to Maester Aemon. 

The old man had known from their correspondence that Dany had a desire to read all she could about House Targaryen, and Maester Josmyn had attempted to gather what information there could be found about the legitimized Targaryen bastard known as Bloodraven, Brynden Rivers. Lord Bloodraven, who had been Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch once, had disappeared beyond the wall, and this book gathered the reports of all the rangers that were sent after him. 

Reading about it gave Dany the type of feeling she got when she sat with the Stark children and heard a ghost story from Old Nan. Reading about rangers discussing cold nights in the dark recesses of the Haunted Forest was enough to make a chill creep up her spine as she sat in the darkening sept alone. She read for several hours, making it deep into the book before she decided to take a brief break.  

She put the book down for a bit and went to the doors of the sept, opening one of the wooden double doors to peek out. 

Winterfell looked positively empty tonight. She saw several guards up on the walls, walking in the cold wind that abraded Dany’s face as she opened the door. From the direction of the Great Keep, Dany could hear the sound of fiddles and the raucous laughter of hundreds of people. Dany leaned against the doorframe and stared longingly in the direction of the sound for a moment. She pursed her lips and shut the door. 

The brief gust of wind that had blown through the sept had put out nearly all the candles, leaving it dark and gloomy within. It made her feel apprehensive to cross over and find her frightening little book. She grasped one of the still-lit candles and began to light other candles using its flame, careful not to let the wax drip down onto her hand. 

But as she stood before the Mother, lighting candles, she had the feeling she was being watched – a feeling she had felt twice before in childhood. But she was almost a woman-grown now, and would not put up with such madness anymore. No. She told herself. Do not turn around. It is not real. You are not mad. 

“Princess,” The voice said. That voice she had not heard since that night along the stream, when Staros and Bellios had tried to steal her away across the Narrow Sea. 

Dany bit her lip, and her hands shook. She pretended she had not heard it and continued lighting candles. 

“Just because you will not look at something does not mean it cannot be seen,” The shadow said behind her. 

“You are not real,” She said aloud without turning around, feeling afraid all over. 

“I served you well in the past.” 

Dany whirled. There she was. The shadow woman, wearing her strange wooden mask painted red, her hooded black robes. Standing beneath the altar of the Stranger.

“You did not ,” Dany insisted. “I served myself. Maester Luwin told me that sometimes people imagine things so that they can protect themselves, invent things in their own head to help them see what to do. That is all.” 

“If it is the men of the Citadel you mean to listen to, you may as well forget all advice I have given you,” She said, with her wet eyes gleaming in the candlelight. 

“I do not even know you!” Dany shouted and then realized what she had said. “I invented you, imagined you. I am imagining you now!” 

“I am Quaithe,” She said flatly. “And I have done much and more to ensure I could come to give you warnings.” 

“Yes, yes. False golden sons and false black-clad ones. Stealing my blood or my truth or whatever it was you said. It makes no sense to me.” 

“Do not take your vows,” Quaithe insisted suddenly. “Much and more hinges on it. You are not a septa. Your gods are not the Seven. You are the blood of Old Valyria.” 

“What?” Dany said, aghast. She felt desperately afraid, hating herself for imagining this again after so many years, so many long years that she had put this shadow woman out of her mind. “I…I must take my vows. What…what hinges on me not –” 

The door opened and wind blew back into the sept, and as all the candles went out but three or four, Quaithe disappeared with the light. 

Jon Snow stumbled through the doors, his face dark and brooding, but flushed. And from the odd gait to his walk, Dany could tell it was not just from the cold of the evening. He had a bottle of wine in his hand.

“I told you I would return, and I bear a gift,” Jon said, sitting down next to her on the bench and hoisting the wine bottle above his head. He looked at her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Dany said, too quickly. “I gave myself a fright is all.”

Jon looked at her and offered the bottle. She took it, and downed a swig. The warmth of it filled her chest, and made her feel better. It did not happen , Dany told herself. But that seemed to make her feel even worse. She took another sip, much longer this time. 

Jon took the bottle and took a drink as well, though it seemed to Dany he was already in his cups. 

“How was it?” She asked and gave him a teasing look. “It seems you were right that you got to drink as much as you wanted.”

Jon gave her a grin. “Squires and men at arms, they were fine company. And the wine was sweet, as you can tell.” He handed Dany back the bottle. 

As she drank again, Jon Snow’s smile faded ever so slightly. 

“And your family?” She asked. If Jon was cross, it was usually something to do with his family. 

“Robb was grinning like a fool as he escorted Princess Myrcella in,” Jon rolled his eyes. “Myrcella seems a foolish girl to me, but Robb could not even tell from what I saw.” 

“Myrcella is only eight. We were fools as late as ten, or do you not remember running off into the woods?” Dany asked, keeping her voice light. Jon brooded. 

“Aye,” Jon said, but looked irritated still. “Perhaps Robb will marry Myrcella.” 

Dany knew it was not the girl he was jealous of, but the freedom of life that Robb had before him. Dany knew that jealousy, one she often felt herself. But another part of her wanted to shake Jon by the shoulders. If it is a princess on your arm you want, look no further, foolish boy , she might have said. 

“It would be a fine match, and good for your family” Dany said. Then she took a fortifying sip of the wine and looked at him searchingly. “What is really troubling you, Jon?” 

“I asked my uncle Benjen about joining the Night’s Watch,” He said in a cold, flat voice. Dany tensed. 

They had not spoken of the Night’s Watch with one another in half a year, since they had quarrelled so furiously about it the last time Jon spoke about joining. Dany wanted Jon to remain here with her, at least as long as they could be together. There lives would not be easy – had never been truly easy. But ever since they first met that day in the godswood, it had been a little easier. Why would he want to run from that so quickly? 

“What…did he say when you asked?” Dany asked, her voice shaky. 

“He said I was just a boy and refused me,” He said, gritting his teeth. Dany let out a sigh of relief but tried not to let it show on her face. 

“Why?” Dany asked. “Just because of your age?”

“He says I do not know what I’m giving up, since I’ve never…” Jon trailed off, glancing up and seeming to remember who he was talking to, and looked down blushing. Dany felt her skin get hot.

“Never known a woman?” Dany asked. Jon nodded angrily.

“Did he…did he change your mind at all? About taking the Black, I mean?”

Jon looked at her with a slightly angry look. “Will we do this again?” 

“I simply asked,” Dany said, putting the wine bottle down and frowning. Jon reached for it but Dany grasped it and moved it out of reach. He looked even more irritated. 

“No, I have not changed my mind,” Jon said proudly. “I intend to live my life as a brother of the Night’s Watch.” 

Dany felt her heart sink into her chest. She stood and started to move towards the door. Jon stood and took her hand, pulling her gently back to face him. 

“Dany, you’ve known I would since we were ten years old ,” He said, more pleadingly than irritably. “Why can you not see this is what I want?” 

“Besides the fact that you’ll leave me here and we’ll hardly ever see one another again?” She shot back spitefully. 

“What else is there for me? A bastard can rise high in the Night’s Watch, but nowhere else. Shall I remain here and watch my trueborn siblings go on to their lives while I sit below the salt and do nothing with mine?” 

Dany turned to him fully now, exasperated. There were tears in her eyes. It was time to make him see, to tell him and make him understand. “Why can you never dream for more? Why can you not have a dream of your life with me in it?” 

Jon looked at her stone-faced. “You know that we cannot…” 

“ Why? ” Dany asked, her voice cracking as the emotion came. “You and Robb are close, and one day he will be Lord of Winterfell. He or Lord Eddard might go so far as to grant you lands one day.” 

She looked down, blushing. Dany knew Jon knew how she felt, it was as obvious as anything. If that were all it were, that would be one thing. But she knew he felt the same for her, and yet they went on with their lives never discussing it. It would not do. They were both two years away from being a man and woman grown. It was time to discuss it. 

“Even if he doesn’t, you are skilled at arms and one day might make a knight. You could travel the Seven Kingdoms riding in tourneys and protecting smallfolk, like some knight from a storybook.” 

There was a look in longing in Jon’s eyes at those suggestions and he held her hands a little tighter as they looked at one another. “And…and you?” 

Dany could not help but smile slightly, feeling like she was getting through to him. He can feel this too, between us, he must. 

“Must I say it?” She said with a shy smile, tears still in her eyes. “If you’re a minor lordling, let me be your lady wife. If you’re a hedge knight, I’ll be a hedge knight’s wife. If you want to be a fisherman on the Stony Shore, I’ll learn to clean fish and sew up your nets. Where you go, let me go with you. I…it is all I want. Do not go to the one place I cannot follow you.” 

He returned her smile, and it lit up – that long face of his that Dany loved so much. His grey eyes swam. She could tell in an instant it was what he wanted too. 

Then his face changed. 

“You…you speak of treason,” He said, quietly, looking down so he would not meet her eyes. “You…you must take the vows of a septa. King Robert has decreed it.” 

“King Robert will not live forever,” Dany said urgently, speaking the words she had held in her heart but not spoken aloud to anyone. “You and I, we’re old enough now. We can run to the Free Cities like we planned, if we must, and wed there. When Robert is dead, we’ll return to the North and surely Robb or your father will welcome us again.” 

Jon shook his head. “I would make my father a liar if I helped you escape taking your vows.” 

Is that what troubles him? “Do you love me?” 

The question hung between them for a long moment. Jon was blushing.

“You know that I do,” Jon said. 

“Then have the bravery to be with me,” Dany insisted, pleadingly. 

Jon’s frown deepened. “You…you are being childish.” The words stung. “You know as well as I…Dany we’ve known that we can never…if I run off with you it could mean war . We have duties, both of us. We cannot…” 

Dany stepped back. “So you instead mean to run off to the Night’s Watch and let me become a septa? That’s it? You and I both take up the lives that Lady Catelyn would no doubt pick out for us. We should try to live, Jon!” 

“Your claim!” Jon shouted now. “You…how can you not see? You would never be safe , Dany!” 

“I do not care about a throne, I want to be with you, I want to love you.” 

“You may not care, but there are those that do,” Jon said, his voice angry. “I want you to live a long and safe life, not end on the point of some assassin’s knife. If it were different, I swear but…” 

“It’s not different,” Dany said, crossing her arms and trying to hold back the tears. “This is how it is. Are you refusing me?” 

Jon opened his mouth and closed it again. Dany gritted her teeth. “The Night’s Watch, then?” 

He nodded. 

“Go then,” Dany said, and stormed from the sept. 

***

Tears streamed down her face as she made for her apartments near the sept. She let them flow down her face, everyone was at the feast and no one was around to see her. 

As she approached the door to the stairs that led to her and Septa Mordane’s room, someone called out to her. 

“You have no wolf pup then?” A slightly amused man’s voice called out to her. She looked to the shadows to find a small, stunted man sitting with his back against the wall of a keep, a bottle of wine of his own by his side. Dany’s breath caught in her throat. She said nothing, remembering Lady Catelyn’s directives. She simply shook her head at the question. 

“A pity, I wanted to see one up close,” Tyrion Lannister said. “Though I suppose that if all the Stark children have a wolf, and you do not, that means that fourteen years in Winterfell has failed to make a Stark of you. King Robert will rejoice to hear it.” 

The dwarf looked up more closely at her as Dany stood there, mouth agape. He could tell now she was crying and put a hand to his mouth. 

“Only a jest, my lady, I meant nothing by it,” He said, a hint of guilt in his voice. “You must forgive my rusted courtesies, I’ve had a fair bit of wine.” 

“No, it’s not…my lord, I am not to speak with you.” She turned to go but remembered she was going to her room, and then turned back the other way.

“Why not?”

“I, I have been instructed not to interact with the royal party,” Dany said. 

“A prudent measure. It won’t make King Robert forget you exist, though,” Tyrion Lannister cocked his head and looked at her face appraisingly. “You are on his mind, you and your brother wherever he might be. I beg only a short word with you. I have never met a Targaryen and you might be my last chance.” 

“Truly, I would get in trouble, my lord. Besides, I am no Targaryen, only a novice promised to the faith,” Dany lied.  

“In that case, I am no Lannister of Casterly Rock, only a dwarf,” He said with a crooked smile and shrugged his shoulders. “It will make my lord father rejoice to hear it. Ah, but there is the small issue – just saying a thing does not make it so.” 

A shiver went through Dany. Quaithe had said something similar to her, and the thought of the shadow woman made her feel ill. 

“What do you want?” 

“To meet you, as I said.” 

“We’ve met now,” Dany said dismissively. 

“Why were you crying?” 

Dany thought of walking away – she should have walked away, that is what Lady Catelyn would have wanted. But she was so tired of this bloody royal visit already. 

“Why would I tell you?” Dany snapped, turning back, not troubling to deny she had been crying. She stepped closer to Tyrion Lannister and loomed over him where he sat. “I know who you are.” 

“Oh?” The dwarf cocked his head. “Pray tell, who am I?” 

“You’re a Lannister ,” She spat, treating the word like a curse. Tyrion laughed.

“Oh, gods,” He snickered. “Most of the time I get dwarf or imp or little man – you seem to be the first person offended at the sight of me because of my bloody name .” 

“Your brother killed my father.” 

Tyrion looked at her for a long moment, seemingly surprised and impressed that she had said it. “My, you are a Targaryen, aren’t you?”

As he said that, a part of Dany seemed to revel in the observation. 

“Well, my brother Jaime did in fact kill your kingly father,” Lannister went on, shrugging. “But if we are to keep score, your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror killed thousands of Lannister men at the Field of Fire, and your other ancestor Rhaenyra Targaryen brutally tortured my ancestor Tyland Lannister, a good man by all accounts.” 

Daenerys scoffed. “Tyland Lannister betrayed Rhaenyra and helped the Green Council crown her brother, leading to years of war. I’ll grant you, he deserved the headsman’s axe more than the rack, but let us not think of him as an innocent.” 

Tyrion Lannister gave her another impressed smile. “A well-read girl. Fine, but how about this: my ancestor Lord Lyman Lannister took in your ancestors Aegon the Uncrowned and his wife Rhaena when Maegor the Cruel demanded their heads?” 

“And did nothing to support Aegon’s claim over Maegor,” Dany argued, finding that she too was smiling now for some reason. 

Tyrion threw up his hands in exasperation. “Can you blame the man, Balerion the Black Dread was a very large dragon, princess.” 

A quick giggle escaped Dany’s lips before she caught herself. The dwarf struggled to his feet at that and gave her an earnest look. “I am sorry you grew up without any kin. Fathers are not, in my experience, all they are made up to be, but at least I got to know mine. I am not Jaime, though, no more than you are Maegor, so I cannot apologize on his behalf, nor would I dare to think he wanted me to. But I am sorry for your difficulties, princess.” 

Dany looked down. “Really, I am not a princess.” 

The dwarf picked up the wine bottle beside his feet and began to walk in the direction of the Great Keep. Tyrion Lannister turned back, cocked his head again, and searched her face. 

“They certainly do not want you to be,” He said with a curious look on his face. And as he turned towards the better lit part of the yard, Dany saw his shadow grow taller and taller.

Chapter 12: Stags and Lions

Dany sat alone in a courtyard in the oldest part of Winterfell. She was not far from the Great Keep, or the ironwood door that led down to the crypts. The broken tower lay behind her. 

With so many people in the castle, Dany felt like she could only be alone here. No one wanted to come to the ruined part of Winterfell, and Dany did not want to see anyone. 

She was sitting on the lip of a steaming hot fountain, one of the many such fountains in Winterfell which spewed warm water from beneath the earth. On a cold day like this, she felt better to be near the warm water. Everything felt cold today. 

Dany tried to focus on the letter she was writing – a letter to Maester Aemon on the Wall, entirely in High Valyrian. Maester Luwin had suggested that to continue to hone her ability with the language, she should try and write a correspondence using that tongue. And Maester Aemon knew High Valyrian – he was a maester of the Citadel and a Targaryen after all. But the words kept blurring together, and before too long there were wet spots on the page, and she found herself angrily tearing up the page.

It was all coming to an end. The comfortable and happy life she had enjoyed since that day when she was ten was fleeing as summer was. Everything was going to change again. It was hard to not feel like her life was over. 

Lord Stark had told each of his children in turn, and then came to her in the small dining room set aside for Chayle, Mordane, and Dany. There he told her that he would be going south to be the Hand of the King. Sansa, Arya, and Bran would be going with him. And Jon Snow would be joining the Night’s Watch. Not when he was a man grown – now. 

Dany had never had a sword thrust through her chest, but she imagined it did not feel that different. Dany would remain in Winterfell under Lady Catelyn’s supervision, with Robb and Rickon and Theon. King Robert had not liked consenting to that, Lord Eddard had told her, but he had promised the king that once in King’s Landing, he would begin making arrangements with the High Septon to determine where Dany would serve as a septa once she took her vows. 

Perhaps what hurt most of all is that Septa Mordane would be going south with Lord Eddard’s party, to see to the continued education of Sansa and Arya. Fate’s cruel hand had taken Dany’s true mother the day she was born – and now it conspired to take away the closest thing she had in this world to a substitute. 

Dany ran her hand through the steaming water. It was hot. Arya would often pull her hand away quickly when she and Dany had played here in the past, but not Dany. It never felt quite as hot as Dany would have liked. 

Arya had come to her crying when she heard the news she would be going to King’s Landing. What could Dany do but console her? She knew that Sansa or Lady Catelyn would only tell her of all the things in King’s Landing that a highborn lady would be excited about – masque balls and tourneys and feasts. Things Dany would enjoy in truth, but that was not what Arya needed to hear. Arya was bored by those things. 

“Think of all the new people you’ll meet, from places you never imagined,” Dany had said, trying to keep her voice even, though the thought of losing Arya made her want to weep. “You’ll have a whole city to explore, and you’ll have adventures.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll enjoy any adventures without you and Jon,” She had said, sadly. 

Dany continued to run her hands through the warm water. No, I will not think of Jon, she told herself. Arya had brought her word from Jon that he wanted to talk with her, to see her soon. Chayle had said that Jon had come calling for her at the sept on several occasions and in the libraries. Dany avoided him where she could. It hurt too much. 

A half a year, maybe even a year of living here with Lady Catelyn and then they’ll send me off to start my lonely little life as a septa, Dany thought. 

She could run, but she was old enough to know it was folly. Where would she go? Even if she wanted to go to her brother, and she was far from certain that she did, there was no way of knowing where he was. Somewhere in the Free Cities, trying to gather swords to take back their father’s throne. But he was as much a stranger to her as anyone else outside of Winterfell. And he had sent those evil men to come and take me away. What kind of brother would do that? 

There were footsteps down the courtyard, and Dany tensed. But it was only Robb Stark, walking alone and checking behind some piles of rubble as if he was looking for something. He was shorter than Jon, fairer of skin, and with a heavier build in his chest and arms. His eyes were the same blue as Lady Catelyn’s, and Dany always felt an admittedly unfair animosity when she saw those eyes.

Eventually, he turned and saw Dany, his face changing. 

“There you are,” He said, and then as if remembering who he was talking to, began to stammer. “I…um, I was looking for you.” 

Robb was a confident lad, Dany knew. She had seen him in the practice yard, and among squires and other castle boys. He was brave, eager to be the first to try some dare, unafraid to speak his mind. The castle girls gave him moist-eyed looks wherever he went, and Jeyne Poole was utterly besotted with him. But this was not who he was around Dany. Whenever he was around Dany, he became a timid, tongue-tied fool who never seemed to be able to tell which way was up. It would be endearing if it weren’t so irritating. They had lived in the same castle together all their lives, and spent the better part of the last four years dining at the same table, taking the same lessons with Maester Luwin, and generally seeing each other every day. 

Robb’s infatuation with her had been amusing when first Dany had been allowed to spend time with the Starks, even flattering. It was undeniably enjoyable to be wanted by the boy who every other girl wanted. But half the time Robb opened his mouth, he was exactly who you expected him to be. Winterfell would be his one day, and he knew it. He was not spoiled and petulant, but he was proud and prickly, quick to sense a slight. And if his mother, Lady Catelyn, told him to do something he would go along meekly like a beaten cur. These qualities had turned his relentless infatuation with Dany from flattering to amusing to downright tiresome. 

She knew there was no depth to it. He had never taken the time to even get to know her. And most of all, Dany had eyes for another – a stubborn fool who loved the idea of a black cloak more than he loved her. 

“Where’s Grey Wind?” Dany asked, not seeing his wolf at his side as usual.

“I…I um, left him in the godswood with some mutton. I think the Princess Myrcella is afraid of them, and I saw her playing in the yard with her little brother earlier.” 

How noble, Dany thought, wanting to roll her eyes. Once again, his dutiful nature bored her. And yet another part of her whispered the truth: you would find any fault in him, just because he looks like her. 

“I wanted to help Jon find you,” Robb said, his face already reddening. “He wants to speak with you.” 

“Then surely if you both must search, it should be clear to Jon that I do not want to see him,” Dany said, crossing her arms. 

As different as they seemed to Dany, Jon and Robb had a loyalty to one another that she did not always understand. It seemed like the times Jon did not spend with Dany or Arya, he was spending with Robb. 

“In a week’s time, he’ll ride north,” Robb insisted. “He wants to speak with you and you keep avoiding him.” 

“Why would you help?” Dany was honestly curious. 

“I can tell he is hurt over not speaking to you,” Robb said. “He’s my brother.” 

“He’s not mine,” Dany said. “Go away Robb, I want to be alone.” 

Robb’s lips tightened a bit then. “Will you be so stubborn? Whatever he has done, he wants to apologize. He won’t tell me but –” 

“He won’t tell you because you won’t understand,” Dany shot back. “It makes you look a boy to pretend like you understand what is between Jon and I.” 

His face was redder now, not from embarrassment. “How could I?” He asked sharply. “It is not like either of you ever brought me to the godswood or on one of your little adventures around the castle. I was never welcome.” 

Dany stiffened a bit. Robb had never spoken to her quite like this. His words made her feel absurdly guilty, but just for a moment. 

“Ask your mother if she thinks it's a good idea you go about cavorting with me,” Dany said, anger flaring higher. “She’ll tell you the heir to Winterfell has no business with the likes of me.” 

She stood up and looked at him with contempt. “I’m the Mad King’s daughter after all. If it were up to her my head would have been on a pike years ago.” 

“That’s not fair,” Robb shouted. “We’ve been kind to you!” 

Dany laughed aloud. “Is that what you call it? Kind? Theon’s denial of what it’s like to be a hostage must be quite convincing, since it has seeped over to you. You’re my gaolers, all of you! Now, leave me alone. 

“No, you’ve made accusations that –” 

“I said, leave me be!” Dany shouted. “Or must I go find your mother and tell her about how you look at me constantly like a girl you want to bed? I bet she’ll make you stay away from me then, once she hears of your pathetic infatuation with me.” 

Robb blushed but his eyes were as cold as ice. As soon as she said it, Dany felt guilty. 

“Go to Jon or don’t,” Robb said in a voice that sounded all-of-the-sudden like Lord Eddard’s. “I for one have little care what happens to you.” 

He turned on a heel and marched away. Dany stood and called after him. 

“Robb, I…that was not…” She started, fumbling for words. But he did not turn to face her once. 

She sat down again on the lip of the fountain and tried to make herself feel better about it. She told herself she should not feel bad for Robb Stark, even if she had been hurtful to him. After all, he would get everything he ever wanted. Robb would marry some beautiful lady and rule all the North, his destiny as much under his control as what pair of boots he puts on. What did it matter if someone who had nothing hurt the feelings of someone who had everything? 

And yet, none of these thoughts cooled Dany’s guilt. Because she knew it had been wrong. In her heart, she knew there was an earnestness to the way Robb looked at her – not in the same way Theon often looked at her. How would I feel if Jon mocked my feelings for him to his face? 

“Oh gods,” Dany said aloud, though she was alone. She wanted to cry again, this time in anger towards herself. 

She stood, she would need to go make her apologies. Dany felt wretched about it. 

“Look, more ruins,” A sharp, disdainful voice said, coming from the east. “These Starks have nothing worth seeing in this middenheap.” 

“The gargoyles are scary, Joffy,” Another, younger voice, more guileless than the first. “I want mother.” 

“Don’t be a child,” the first voice said. “There’s got to be something interesting to see around here.” 

The Princes Joffrey and Tommen Baratheon were rounding a corner, Dany could see. They were walking alone, plump little curly-haired Tommen trying to keep up with his tall, well-made brother. Her heart stopped. Lady Catelyn’s words rang in her head: you should make every effort to avoid the Princes Joffrey and Tommen, as well as Princess Myrcella.

Dany looked about but there was nowhere to hide. She made to move in another direction, but it was too late. 

“Ah!” Prince Joffrey exclaimed at the sight of her. “What do we have here? I wondered where they hid you away.” 

His voice was a knife, but had a peevish edge to it. Dany turned to face them. She curtsied quickly. 

“Good day, my princes,” Dany said meekly, keeping her eyes down. “I must be on my way, I have duties to attend to –” 

“Stop,” Joffrey said commandingly as she turned to head back towards the more populated parts of Winterfell. “Come here, girl.” 

Dany hesitated. Which would be worse? To defy the crown prince or to break Lady Catelyn’s rules? Dany did not know, but she did know she should run in the other direction. 

“I said come here! ” Joffrey barked. Dany turned and moved a few paces ahead of him. “Closer, and look at me when I speak to you, girl.” 

Dany moved to stand in front of him and lifted her face. 

“Who’s that?” Little Tommen said, cocking his head innocently. 

“A dragonspawn,” Joffrey said with an amused look on his face. It was a handsome face, one Sansa no doubt liked well – she was to marry the crown prince, after all. His lips were full and red, his hair long and golden, curled like his mother’s. His green eyes were piercing, but undeniably cruel. He wore a green doublet with black leather trousers. A wooden practice sword was at his side, as he had likely come from training in the yard earlier this morning – same as Robb. “You are the Beggar King’s sister?” 

“I am Daenerys, just a novice septa, my prince,” Dany insisted. 

“Daenerys Targaryen ,” He said with a smile. “My father hates you.” 

Dany felt cold inside. It was funny how something frightening that you had suspected was true all your life became even more frightening when confirmed to be true. 

“I…I’m sorry, my prince,” Dany said, not sure what she was apologizing for but feeling more frightened than she did with even Bellios and Staros. 

Joffrey laughed at that, and then seemed to notice his little brother still there. “Run along to mother, Tommen.” 

“Why?” The boy Tommen asked, then turned to Dany with a smile. “Do you like games?” 

“I said go !” Joffrey insisted, and gave his brother a whack on the back of the head. Tommen ran off in the direction they had come. 

“My prince, I do have duties I need to attend to –” 

“I want to take a look at you,” Joffrey said, sneering. The more fearful Dany grew, the more excited Prince Joffrey seemed to get. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look into his eyes, his hand pinching hard. “Yes, purple, just as they say. You Targaryens are as unnatural as I have heard.” 

He pulled a lock of her silver-blonde hair from her tightly-wound bun and examined it critically. “You must be freaks, since your mother and father were brother and sister. My father killed your brother, you know?” 

Dany hung her head, hating herself for her meekness but also feeling extremely frightened. She had no recourse against this boy. Any move she made might have ended in her head on a pike by the end of the day. She simply nodded in response. 

“And my Uncle Jaime killed your father, who was mad,” Prince Joffrey said with amusement, moving behind her now. She turned to face him but he put his hands on her hips. “Stay, I said I wanted to take a look at you.” 

“Yes, my prince,” She said, rooting herself to the spot. His hands did not leave her waist as he slid around from behind her, gripping them to feel the soft curves of her body clumsily. The way he was speaking to her, treating her – it was as if he feared no consequences for his actions, either because he was the crown prince or because he knew his own father hated Dany so that he was not like to be punished -- likely both.

“My father’s going to kill your other brother too, the Beggar King,” He spat. She shivered and he felt it. It seemed to make him chuckle. “Are you scared, girl?” 

“I…” Dany started, as King Joffrey moved back in front of her, examining his face and taking his hands off her. 

“Yes, you look scared. You should be. My father will kill you too if you make trouble. Does that scare you?” 

Dany felt a flash of anger and met his gaze. “Not at all,” She said confidently all of the sudden. “I’ve known that my whole life.” 

Joffrey gave her a look that was contempt mixed with disappointment as she answered defiantly. Clearly, he would have found it more interesting if she had been scared. His lips turned petulant. 

“I bet a Targaryen like you looks different all over,” He said, leering at her robes now. “Take off your clothing. Your prince wants to see what you look like, dragonspawn.” 

“ No ,” Dany spat. 

Joffrey grabbed for the silver belt around her waist. “Your prince commands it!” 

The silver belt slid off and now Joffrey was grasping at her skirts, making to pull them up when suddenly a loud voice cracked through the air. 

“ Enough!” A voice called out and suddenly Joffrey was lifted in the air, and tossed backwards onto his back. Robb had run in and grabbed the young prince and pulled him off of Dany. 

Dany was breathing heavily, anxiety still coursing through her. 

“How…how dare you touch me!” Joffrey cried peevishly from the ground as he scrambled to his feet. 

“What were you doing to her?” Robb demanded, standing between Dany and Joffrey as he kept a hand on his wooden practice sword. Joffrey stood up defiantly, looking at Robb angrily. The prince had a few inches on Robb but Robb was stronger and older. 

“Robb, don’t,” Dany insisted. This would be trouble, beyond a doubt and she did not want to get Robb in trouble. But she found herself clinging to his side all the same, wrapping her arms around his left arm, her fear still palpable. 

“Whatever I wanted, Stark,” Joff said, clearly peeved that someone had defied him. “I am the crown prince and I can do as I please.” 

Joffrey drew his practice sword. “Or will I need to get you out of the way myself?” 

Robb drew his sword with a quickness that surprised Dany, and he slammed it against Joffrey’s fingers. The blow did not even break the skin but he dropped the sword, and Robb put a foot on it. 

“You can’t hit me!” Joffrey screeched at him, tears in his eyes. “I’m going to tell my mother, then you’ll be sorry, Stark!”

He ran off clutching his hand. Robb knelt and picked up the silver rope belt and handed it to Dany. “Are you alright?” When he saw her shaking, he put his arms around her. “It is over, my lady.” 

“No, Robb, it’s not,” She said, fear in her voice. “We must find your father, at once.” 

***

They were brought before King Robert Baratheon that evening in Lord Eddard’s solar. 

Robb and Dany had gone to Lord Eddard right after Joffrey had run off to his mother. Eddard Stark had listened grimly and told them they needed to be ready to repeat their accounts. Then he asked to speak to Robb alone, and what had been said between them Dany could not say. 

Dany had never been so apprehensive in her whole life as Jory brought her and Robb up the stairs to the lord’s solar. Her entire life had been lived in the shadow of Robert Baratheon, and now here she was being brought before him to answer for an altercation with his son. 

His son , Dany felt sick. Never in her life had she felt so helpless as she did with Joffrey Baratheon’s hands on her, never had she felt so angry and so ashamed. Targaryens like Prince Aemon the Dragonknight nor Daena the Defiant would have ever meekly submitted in such a way. She wanted to rage, to claw Joffrey’s eyes out when she saw him. But she knew that the era for Targaryens who could fight back was long gone. There are no more dragons. 

Robb was brought in first, and looked gravely at Dany as he was. She waited a long moment outside the solar, wondering if this would be the day King Robert would finally take her head. After a little less than a half hour though, Queen Cersei Lannister stormed out of the solar with Joffrey clutched under her arm, red of face. 

Queen Cersei was beautiful, almost breathtakingly so. Her golden curls and piercing green eyes would have put the Maiden herself to shame. And there was nothing but loathing in her eyes as she saw Dany standing there. Dany stepped closer to Jory. 

“You are a lucky girl, princess ,” She spat. Joffrey stood next to his mother, scowling at Dany as he clung to his mother’s side like a toddler. “Lucky the world is full of such weak and foolish men. Had I been king, I would have thrown you in a well that day you were first brought to court. And you certainly would not live through a day like today if I were king.” 

Dany said nothing, only staring back at her. The queen scoffed and took her son by the arm, descending the stairs. 

“Bring the Targaryen girl in, now,” A gruff voice from inside the solar. His voice. Dany shivered. 

Inside Lord Eddard’s solar, King Robert sat at Lord Stark’s writing desk. He looked tired, red of face, and glared at Danaerys as soon as she entered the room. His wiry black beard hid much of his face, his gut concealed by the desk before him. Lord Eddard stood beside the fire with Robb standing next to him. Eddard Stark had a tired look on his face. Robb’s softened features coupled with the nature of Queen Cersei’s departure told her that everything was somehow, mercifully, going to be alright. 

Robert Baratheon, the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm looked Daenerys up and down as she entered the room. If he was pleased by what he saw, he hid it well. 

“Pretty,” He grumbled as Dany took a knee before him, hating herself as he did. “Rhaegar was pretty too. You look like him.” 

Dany felt anxiety coursing through her. “Th-thank you, your grace.” 

“Rise,” He said lazily, waving his hand contemptuously. “Lord Eddard’s son told me what happened today between you and my son. I believe him. My son he…” 

Robert trailed off and shook his head. “Well, in any case, you have my…apologies for his actions.” The last words were spoken with grudgingly. 

Dany would not have been more shocked if a dragon flew into the solar right now. She looked up at Lord Eddard as she could not believe what she was hearing. But something in his face told her this was the calm before the storm. 

“I…I thank you, your grace,” She started. Robert cut her off, pointing a large finger at her.

“But it would never have happened if you were a septa by now, girl,” He spat. “I’m told you are old enough to take vows but have claimed you’re not ready .” 

The last words were said with such contempt that Dany felt her tears in her eyes. 

“I spared you, against my better judgment,” King Robert shot a look to Eddard Stark, who’s face might have been made of ice. Robb looked at Robert with a pinched expression, as if hiding anger. “Your family…they were like a blight. What your brother and father did…” 

The king’s hands balled into fists. “I will not have Targaryens in my realm encouraging treason. Causing trouble. You are to be a septa, is that clear? I’ll have no more of this dithering. You are not a highborn hostage, no Targaryen in my realm shall have that honor. If you have not taken vows by the end of this year, I swear to you, I will take your head myself.”

Chapter 13: A Taste of Winter

She was sitting back against the heart tree in the godswood when he finally caught Dany alone. 

“That was where you were the first time we talked, you know,” he said, standing over her. 

Jon Snow looked at her with a sad smile, but stood up tall as he usually did, trying to look older. Dany hated how much she felt herself soften to see his dark grey eyes again. She looked up at him, her book in her lap. 

“Well, in truth you were up there,” He pointed to the branches above them. Dany could not help but smile. He took it for a surrender and sat down beside her, his back to the tree, its stern face looming above them. 

Ghost slid out from behind Jon, larger already now and growing faster than she could imagine. He stepped quietly up beside Dany and curled up with a small section of his back leaning against where she sat. 

“I fell out of the tree, thanks to you, I’ll remind you,” Dany said. 

“Can I be blamed if you are less skilled at climbing than you think?” He teased. She closed the book and whapped him with it. He laughed, but as it subsided, he lay the side of his face against the tree to look at her. 

“Robb told me what happened,” Jon said, solemn again. “I could not sleep last night, thinking of how scared you must have been.” 

Dany’s heart fluttered at that, but she did not let down the guard around her heart. “He’s wretched.” Dany said. 

“He’s a little shit, I’ve seen it in the yard.” Jon said, knowing she meant Joffrey. “But I never thought he was that terrible.”

“Perhaps I should be glad I was not raised at court, if that is what comes of being a king’s child,” Dany said dryly. Jon did not smile. 

“You do not have to pretend with me, Dany.” 

She looked down and his hand slid across pine needles to find hers. His fingers touched the top of her hand, an invitation, a question. Dany let out a long breath. All the pain and weariness of the last few days, all the sorrow over the thought of her world changing so much, all the anger at Jon for wanting to leave her – it felt ready to overwhelm her then. But she replaced it all with the security of her hand in his and grasped his long fingers. 

“I was terrified,” She admitted, voice flat. “I knew I could not stop him from doing…whatever he wanted, should no one intervene.” 

“I thanked the gods Robb was there,” Jon said, relief in his voice. “I cannot think of many others in the castle could have intervened without fear of much reprisal, save my father himself.” 

Dany somehow felt wretched when she thought of Robb. She had been cruel to him, and he had saved her. She had tried to find him to make her apologies, but he seemed to be either busy or avoidant. Today, most of the men in Winterfell were off on a hunt with King Robert. Except for Jon, who of course would need to be excluded. 

“Did…did Robb tell you the rest? About…?” 

“King Robert?” Jon asked. “Aye. I know you’ll have to take your vows.” 

Dany nodded. Quaithe’s cryptic warning rattled in her head. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, squeezing her hand. “I know it is not what you want.” 

He turned to face her now, and suddenly reached up to put a gentle hand under her chin. Her violet eyes went to his grey ones as he bid her look at him. 

“I never liked being a bastard, you know,” Jon said quietly. “No bastard does, I’m sure. The Imp told me I should wear it like armor, but it hurts me more than I want to say sometimes.” 

Dany looked at him sadly. She had always known he felt that way. But in all the time she knew Jon, he had tried his hardest to deny that fact – as if admitting it would make it true. 

“But despite all that, I made a certain peace with it. Until I fell in love with you.” 

Dany felt tears in her eyes. “Jon…” 

“Please, just listen,” He said, putting both hands on her hand now. “If I could, I would cross the Narrow Sea, the Mountains of Dorne, climb the Wall – however far I needed, if it meant I could be with you. But in this world, to wed you would be to kill you, as sure as sunrise. And I cannot let that happen. I must know you are safe, that you are teaching some lord’s daughters to pray their prayers, helping them sew. You’ll be good at that, though gods know it's a waste. But it is life, Dany.” 

The tears were coming down her face now, warm in the cold afternoon air. “I do not know that I want life without you.” 

“Nonsense,” Jon said. “What in the name of the gods will I be defending on the Wall if there’s no you in this realm?” 

Dany laughed suddenly through her tears. Jon went on. “We’ll both have vows soon. Perhaps you're right, maybe if I found a way to stay at Winterfell, Robb would give me some towerhouse one day and some lands to rule. Some small lord may even give me a daughter to marry just to gain favor with Robb.” 

He looked at her so longingly then, she swore she’d never forget it as long as she ever lived. 

“But she would not be you.” 

They kissed then, not like how they had when they were younger – not at all. After, she could not have remembered who had kissed whom. But her arms tangled around his neck, pulling him close as their mouths opened against each other. The feel of his hands on her waist would linger for what seemed like days after, and she did not even think about her wet, tear-streaked cheeks pressed against his.

A wolf howled far away as Dany’s tongue slid past her lips to taste Jon’s. He returned the gesture shyly, as her fingers tangled in his dark brown hair. 

Perhaps they had both wanted more. There would have been space in the godswood where they could be alone, behind the dark sentinel trees, where if they had been quiet, they could have found out exactly how much more the other wanted. But soon the howling of a wolf was replaced by the urgent ringing of a bell – an alarm within the castle. 

Jon broke away first. He pulled his head back. Ghost raised his head beside them. 

“What is that?” Jon asked and stood. Dany did as well. As long as she had lived in Winterfell, they had never rang the alarm bell. “Come on,” Jon said, taking her hand and leading her out of the godswood. 

Outside, Winterfell servants and guardsmen ran alongside king’s men and Lannister men-at-arms alike as crowds streamed out of keeps and towards Winterfell’s broken tower. Moving towards Winterfell’s older section, the crowds became thicker. 

The crowd left a circle surrounding a man in the livery of Winterfell, gawking at him. Dany tried to peer over the crowd to see what there was to see who it was.

“Out of my way!” The guard shouted. From the sound of his voice, it was Cayn, one of Winterfell’s guardsmen, Calon’s father. “Make way! Send for Maester Luwin, now!” 

“ Gods!” Jon shouted. He was taller than Dany, and she could see on his face that he had seen something over the crowd. The bastard boy began shoving through the crowd with more strength than Dany knew he had. Dany stuck to his heels, following through the gaps he created until they were standing before Cayn. 

The guardsman’s face was pale as the moon as he looked at Jon, and Jon ran to grasp at the bundle in Cayn’s arms. 

It was Bran Stark. He was unconscious, and his legs were twisted grotesquely. Dany felt her stomach roil. 

“I…I think he…” Cayn said, face white as a full moon. “I think he fell.” 

***

In her fourteen years living at Winterfell, Dany could not remember a more somber period for the Starks. 

The wolves howled, and the Starks sulked around the castle, speaking in hushed voices and low whispers. Lady Catelyn had not been seen outside of the room they laid Bran in the week since his fall. 

And yet, life went on. Still the preparations were made for Eddard Stark to go south as the Hand of the King. Life carries on despite grief and tragedy, Dany reflected. Else, how would I still be here? 

Maester Luwin had said that if Bran were going to die, he likely would have done so by now. That gave Dany some comfort, and seemed to be enough to move the wheels ever-forward on Winterfell’s changing circumstances. 

And now the day had come. The day where everything would change. Jon would go north to the Wall with Benjen Stark while Septa Mordane, Lord Eddard, Sansa, Arya and half the castle would be going south with King Robert. Dany would remain here, with Robb, Lady Catelyn, and a potentially dying boy. 

Dany sat alone in the sept, staring up at the likeness of the Warrior on the wall. She needed to pray, she knew, for the Warrior to guard all of them on the long journeys that lay before them. But she couldn’t. She did not want to let Jon and Arya go. She did not want to be alone in Winterfell. 

Soon the door came open, and a flurry of snowflakes followed Sansa Stark in the door. Sansa looked lovely as the snow flurried around her, her face red and flushed from the cold. Jeyne Poole, the steward’s girl, followed her in. 

“Ah, Daenerys, good morrow,” She said cheerfully and cordially. It had been years since Sansa last called her ‘Dany.’ 

“Good morrow, Lady Sansa,” Dany nodded to the pretty, dark-haired girl behind Sansa. “Lady Jeyne.” 

Jeyne Poole gave a brief smile in reply. Sansa was doing whatever her mother told her to do, and Jeyne was doing whatever Sansa told her to do. It was hard to blame either of them for their nature, and hard not to envy them. Dany wished she could be silly and blind to the world around her as well. 

“Where is Septa Mordane?” Sansa asked politely, looking about the small sept. “I have need of her before we get on the road.”

“She will be here shortly, my lady,” Dany said. “She’s coming here to say farewell to me within the hour. I can send her to you after.” 

“I simply wanted her opinion on my gown,” Sansa said, gesturing down towards her torso. She wore a lovely forest green silk gown embroidered with light blue Myrish lace. The green looked especially bright with Sansa’s auburn hair and the blue brought out the color of her eyes. She did look lovely. 

“I wanted to know if Septa Mordane felt it appropriate for the first day of our travels,” Sansa went on. 

“I think it looks lovely, my lady,” Dany said, trying to match Sansa’s cordiality. 

“She wanted to ask Septa Mordane ,” Jeyne said pointedly. 

“I do not know if you’ve heard, Lady Jeyne, but I am to be a septa myself by year’s end,” Dany said in annoyance. 

“Oh, I have heard,” Jeyne said with a smirk, as if it were funny. This is the same girl who came up with “Arya Horseface,” Dany reminded herself. “Sansa has to look her best. She might ride for some time in the queen’s wheelhouse, and Prince Joffrey may be there.” 

“Have you heard, Daenerys? Joffrey and I are to wed,” Sansa said with a shy smile, blushing all the while. 

“Sansa will be queen of all the Seven Kingdoms,” Jeyne added, uselessly. 

Dany had heard. She wondered how long the veil would last, how long it would take before the walls came tumbling down around Sansa and she was forced to see what Joffrey really was. When that day came, Dany expected she would not feel superiority over the younger girl for having seen it first. She would feel fear for what Sansa would face then. 

“It is not seemly to brag of such things on Sansa’s behalf, Jeyne,” Septa Mordane said, her wide frame darkening the door to the sept. “And besides, you both need to go ensure you have said all your farewells before we depart. It may be some time again before we return North.” 

“Septa, does my gown look proper for our journey?” Sansa asked plaintively. Septa Mordane responded with a cursory inspection. 

“You look fine, Sansa, now go do as you are bid.” 

“Yes, Septa,” Sansa said demurely, and she and Jeyne turned to leave. 

Septa Mordane moved to sit beside Dany, but her eyes were fixed on Sansa as she left. She watched her pretty auburn hair, so much like Catelyn Stark’s, swishing slightly as the wind picked it up at the door. Leave it alone, Dany told herself. Leave it alone…

Dany stood. 

“One moment, Septa,” She said and hurried after Sansa. 

Out in the snow, the Targaryen maid took the Stark maid’s hand, and gently turned her to face her. Sansa looked confused, her face flushed pink from cold and snowflakes melted in her hair. 

“My lady,” Dany said, hearing the pleading in her own voice. “Sansa. You can have most anything. You are highborn and courtly and lovely. You can have all that you wish for, and more.” 

There was a sadness in Dany’s voice – a pain that bordered on jealousy but sounded more of longing to her own ears. Sansa looked at her with more bewilderment as Dany held her hand, Sansa’s blue eyes looking as innocent and young as Sansa truly was. Jeyne stood behind them with a look of amused bewilderment. 

“What…what do you mean to say?” Sansa asked. 

“Only this: make sure it is something you actually want, not what you have been taught to want,” Dany said. 

Sansa clearly did not know what to say to that. She looked at Dany with that same look of childish confusion, now mixed with something unreadable. So Dany embraced her instead, pulling her into a fierce hug. Sansa’s body responded with surprise at first before she returned it. 

“Farewell, Sansa,” Dany said. 

“And…and you, Daenerys,” the Stark girl said as politely as she could. Dany hoped that she would remember her words. 

Back in the warmth of the sept, Dany found Septa Mordane teary eyed as she prayed to the Mother. She turned and wiped away tears quickly as Dany entered. Dany stopped in her tracks. She had never seen Septa Mordane cry before. It made Dany want to cry as well. 

“S-septa?” Dany asked. 

“My lady, my apologies I was just…it is a trying day, is all. This has been my home for some fourteen years.” 

Dany moved to sit beside her on the bench. She had been dreading this moment for days. She had imagined herself sobbing against Mordane’s shoulder, pleading with her not to go. But now that it was here, she realized she must be strong for herself as well as Mordane. She took the Septa’s hand. 

“Fourteen years,” Dany gave her a light smile and took her hand. “I am fortunate it was you who they picked to bring here to raise a Mad King’s daughter that no one else cared about. I needed you.” 

Septa Mordane’s lip quivered again for a second, and then she stiffened it. “That’s not true, child. Septon Orland cared. He told me once it was the will of the Seven that he and I had been chosen to raise you. And most of all, Lord Stark cared, lest you would have not seen your first nameday.” 

Dany felt slightly cold at that, but then she reflected on the truth of it. She had always known that, on some level – that Eddard Stark saved her life. But the difficulty of her childhood and the space that lay between her and Lord Stark in the shape of the greatsword Ice had often clouded that thought. 

“They are fine people, these Starks,” Septa Mordane observed. “I prayed often when I rocked you as an infant that you would find some joy here.” 

“I’ve found more than some, Septa,” Dany squeezed her hand, thinking of Jon. And of Arya. And of Septon Chayle and maybe most of all of Mordane herself.  

Mordane sniffed. “It will not be long before I see you again. Lord Stark will send some men when the time is come to escort you from Winterfell to King’s Landing. I’ll stand in the Great Sept when you take your vows, and then we will be Septa Mordane and Septa Daenerys.” 

Dany tried to not let her distaste at the idea show, and gave Mordane another smile. “If I can do half as much good as a septa as you have done for me, I’ll count it worthwhile.” 

“You will do more good than you know, my dear,” She said. Then she turned to a box she had left beneath the altar of the Father. “One day, when you are a septa, you will learn that a day comes that you disagree with a choice the lord or lady who you serve has made for the child or children you are tasked with helping raise. That is never easy. I always thought you should have this, but knew Lady Stark would never allow it. But for the next few short months, I will no longer be your Septa. So, this is just a gift from one friend to another.” 

From a mother to a daughter, Dany might have said. Instead she took the box. 

“You deserve to have it, if just for a little while,” Mordane said as Dany opened it. “If it were up to me, you would have had it sooner.” 

Inside was a gown. It was Mordane’s handiwork, Dany would recognize it anywhere – precision, mixed with a delicate beauty. The gown was black silk, with a three-headed dragon worked on the front with beautiful red lace embroidery. Rubies that Dany could not understand how a mere Septa acquired were worked on the shoulders. Its sleeves were long, black and lacy. 

Daenerys Targaryen smothered the woman who had raised her in a hug that poured a decade and a half of gratitude out all at once. 

***

She found Jon where she knew she might. 

Nymeria was guarding the outside of Arya’s bedchambers, but licked Dany’s face when she bent down to stroke the direwolf pup’s fur. Dany knocked lightly and called out who was seeking entrance from behind the door. 

Jon pulled the door open. When Dany saw him, she took a moment to remember the shape of his long face, his grey eyes, his solemn mouth, the shape of his chin, his tall but lithe build. She wanted to remember everything about him. 

“Dany, look ,” Arya said excitedly, and showed her Needle, the sword that Jon had told Dany about the night before. It was a small blade and pointed, but perfect for Arya. The look on her face told Dany that Jon had been right about how much she would like it. 

Dany smiled at her. “You promise you’ll learn how to use it properly?” 

“Of course, I’ll find someone to train with, I told Jon already,” She said, looking at her blade with reverence. 

“That is good,” Dany said, feeling pain in her heart as she looked at Arya. “You’re very dear to both of us.” 

Jon smiled at her from where he sat on Arya’s bed. 

“I do not mean to interrupt your farewell,” Dany said. “I just wanted to catch you before you left.” 

Arya ran across the room, dropping Needle on the bed and wrapping her arms around Dany’s waist. “I don’t want to go to King’s Landing.” 

Arya sounded close to tears. Dany looked at Jon and he knelt beside them, and Dany did the same, reaching Arya’s level. 

“Anytime you need anything, you write to me, Arya,” Dany insisted. “And I’ll write to you as well.” 

“You’ll come back to Winterfell, and I’ll visit just like Uncle Benjen,” Jon said, trying to comfort her as she did. 

They both hugged Arya, holding her between them and insisting this would be far from the last time. Dany would see Arya when she came to take her vows, she reminded her. It did not make it hurt any less for Dany, but still she and Jon both kept brave faces for Arya. 

Dany kissed her forehead and promised to watch how her swordplay had improved once she came to King’s Landing. And before long, they said their farewells. 

Dany walked with Jon to the covered bridge overlooking the yard. They watched as men bustled about the yard. 

“Did she let you see him?” Dany asked Jon as they sat for a moment, watching it all below them. 

“She threatened to call the guards,” Jon said. Dany’s mouth stiffened. 

Alone in the castle now, with Catelyn Stark and her sons , she thought to herself bitterly. 

“I am glad you saw Bran anyway,” Dany said, putting a hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“There was a moment there…” He trailed off, looking thoughtful. “There was a moment where I thought…maybe we might comfort one another. We almost did. But then she was Lady Stark again. At the end…she said she wished it had been me. No, that it should have been me.” 

Dany felt anger rising in her. She rubbed Jon’s arm now, trying to make the gesture comforting. 

“She’s wrong,” Dany said gently. 

“She is,” Jon said, looking untroubled. “Anyway, Robb asked about it and I told him that Lady Stark was very kind.” 

“That was kind of you,” Dany said. 

“I am going to miss him. All of them.” 

Them , Dany thought. The Starks. The brothers and sisters he was half-allowed to have . 

“I know you will.” 

“I am sorry you must remain here with Lady Stark,” Jon said. Dany tried not to shiver. She did not want Jon to worry for her, so she demurred. 

“I’ll have Chayle, and someone will need to keep Bran company when he wakes up,” She said as cheerfully as she could. “He will wake up, Jon. And I’ll pray for him each day, to the old gods and the new.” 

He took her hand in his own and brought it to his lips, and kissed it. They looked at each other. There was nothing more to say. There was everything to say. And instead they just looked at one another. 

The silence went on long and long, until Dany felt she had to break it with a jest lest she fall to tears in front of him. 

“Will you remember me when you are Lord Commander?” She teased with a weak smile. He did not return the smile, looking at her as seriously as he ever did. 

“I’ll not forget you as long as I live,” He said with the quietly solemnity of a Stark.

They kissed again. It was not as passionate as the one they shared in the godswood. It was tender. And sad. And lovely. 

***

Dany stood atop the walls of Winterfell overlooking the Hunter’s Gate. 

She looked South for now, watching as Lord Eddard’s party and King Robert’s household poured slowly out of the South Gate like some slow molasses poured from a glass vial. To the North, below her, a vastly smaller party dressed mostly in black skittered out of the Hunter’s Gate.

Benjen Stark, Jon Snow, a group of Night’s Watch brothers, Tyrion Lannister, and his men – all rode the Kingsroad towards the Wall. Dany watched Jon for a long moment. He looked back at her, as she knew he would. 

Dany wondered if she would ever see him again. 

She waited until she could no longer see Jon and his party in the distance, and turned back towards the South Gate. The last of the great column of men moving south had finally all cleared the walls of Winterfell. The yard looked empty and lonely down below. She saw a figure in that yard, standing with his eyes on the South Gate.

Robb Stark stood alone, looking small from this distance. 

Chapter 14: The Stranger

Winterfell had never felt quite so lonely. 

Nearly two weeks went by after Jon and all the rest departed Winterfell. And Dany adjusted to her new life. She took her meals with Septon Chayle in the small dining room off their apartments. It felt empty with it being just the two of them. Dany oft tried to make polite conversation with him when she could, but more often than not she did not feel up to it. 

She tended the sept, walked in the godswood, tended the sept, took meals with Chayle, walked in the godswood, slept, tended the sept, walked in the godswood, tended the sept, took meals with Chayle. slept and on and on and on it went. 

Dany would have liked to enjoy a lesson in High Valyrian from Maester Luwin, but the maester was so busy these days. Since the royal party left Winterfell, Maester Luwin and Robb had been left to govern Winterfell and the North, from everything Dany had heard. Catelyn Stark had not left Bran’s sickroom once, and Bran himself had still not awoken. 

No one took their meals at the high table of the Starks in the Great Hall anymore. Most often, Robb took his meals in his father’s solar with Theon Greyjoy and Maester Luwin. Catelyn Stark took her meals in the sickroom, and Rickon stalked around Winterfell with his wolf crying at everyone, as angry and forlorn as a boy of three could be. 

It was a bleak time, and Dany found the only joy she took from it was the fact that King Robert and Prince Joffrey had ridden far in the opposite direction of her. 

Since Septa Mordane left Dany with a room all to herself, for the first time in her life, Dany spent a great deal of time at night sitting alone, cross-legged on the floor, looking at her dragon egg by candlelight. 

It was as warm to her as the day she first found it. It made her feel strong to hold it. One particular night, Dany propped a Myrish looking glass up against the wall, and dressed in the fine gown of Targaryen colors that Septa Mordane had given to her. She held the egg in her hands as she looked at herself. 

It gave her thoughts of another life, a life that could have been. A life where Rhaegar Targaryen had put his sword through King Robert’s belly on the trident, and rode over him to put the rebel host to route. A world where Dany was born a princess in truth, and was raised in the great Red Keep at King’s Landing like a true Targaryen. 

Who would I be by now, if that life had come to pass? She wondered, holding her egg in her arms as she posed, trying to look as regal as she could for herself in the glass. More like than not, if her brother Rhaegar had kept to the Targaryen tradition of wedding within the family, she would be betrothed to Viserys. Or even Prince Aegon, Rhaegar’s son who had been murdered the day her father had been murdered. Aegon would have been closer to her own age. He would have been crown prince one day if he had lived, not Joffrey. And Dany could have been his queen when he took the throne, as Sansa would be queen one day in this life. 

The thought made her feel…somewhat odd. Dany had been raised in the North, where the nameless gods of the wood frowned down upon incest with a weirwood’s face. The Faith had little tolerance for the practice as well. She had read all about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism and how Targaryens were different from other men. Was that still true, if the Targaryens no longer ruled? 

Even if it were, Daenerys could not feel good about the idea of wedding a brother or a nephew, even if she had known one. She imagined Robb wedding Sansa or Jon wedding Arya and felt queasy at the thought. Once, in a letter, Maester Aemon had told her that King Aegon V, his little brother, had believed Targaryen madness was born of their incestuous practices. And yet, if her grandfather Jaehaerys, the second of that name, had not defied Aegon and wed his sister, Dany would have never been born. 

Your thoughts on the subject do not matter , she told herself as she put down the dragon’s egg and prepared to remove her gown again. She was not a Targaryen princess. She was just a novice, a few months away from taking her vows as a septa. 

She tossed and turned in her bed for a few hours after that, feeling restless. She considered writing a letter to Jon, but he might not even be at the Wall yet, it was such a long way. She stood, put on a cloak and a simple roughspun gown, and decided to go to the godswood. 

The guardsmen Quent had the door to the Faith’s apartments when Dany was leaving. 

“My lady, where are you going at this hour?” He seemed anxious. Every guard in Winterfell had heard of the time that Dany and Jon snuck out of Winterfell. 

“The godswood, Quent,” Dany said, and pointed just across the yard. “You can see the entrance to the godswood from here, surely you can ensure nothing happens to me even if I go there.” 

Quent was a young man, and the light brown fuzz on his face did little to conceal his anxiety despite her reassurance. Clearly, he had orders to put a stop to something like this. He looked at her with more anxiousness. 

“Fine, but don’t be runnin’ off nowhere else, my lady,” He said stubbornly. 

Dany thanked him and headed off to the godswood. The familiar smell of it hit her quickly, and she found it brought back so many pleasant memories. She felt sad as she realized that all her best memories here had already been made. 

Inside the godswood, Dany found it was not empty. This late at night, seeing someone kneeling before the tree with a lantern at their feet frightened her. But from the outline she saw that she knew who this was. A twig snapped beneath her feet before she could turn to leave. 

Robb Stark turned and looked at her. 

“Oh, Daenerys,” He said quietly. 

He looked tired and haggard. For a boy of fifteen years, the bags under his eyes had grown quite heavy. His face sagged with fatigue. Robb had the look of someone who desperately needed to be abed right now. But instead he was here. 

“I apologize for the intrusion,” She said quickly. 

“It’s no intrusion,” He said, his voice tired. “I have not seen you much lately.” 

It was hard not to note that this was the most confident that Robb had sounded with her – ever. He seemed to be taller, firmer of late. Since Bran fell, Lord Eddard left, and Lady Catelyn withdrew from any governance of Winterfell, Robb had not seemed so much a boy as he had. And he did not seem frightened of Dany as he so often did. 

Dany fidgeted in place. Say it, coward, she told herself. 

“I have tried to talk to you a number of times since…since Joffrey.” 

“It is not necessary that you should give me your thanks, he’s an evil boy,” Robb said firmly. 

Dany sighed, and knelt beside him, facing him. “Robb, it is not thanks I wish to give you. I wish to give you my apologies. The things I said to you –” 

He put up a hand. “I needed to hear them. I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable with my…” 

“Robb, please,” Dany pleaded, feeling worse that he seemed to have accepted her words as truth. “It was wrong of me to assume what was in your heart, and worse still to say…what I did.... Please, will you accept my apology?” 

“If you will accept mine, my lady,” Robb said, turning tired blue eyes to look at her. “ In truth, it was foolish. I do not even really know you, my lady.” 

For all the years she had seen Robb look at her with interest, it felt odd to feel him pull back in that interest. 

“No,” Dany said. “I suppose we don’t know each other very well at all. But that did not stop you from rescuing me from Joffrey.” 

“It was the honorable thing to do,” Robb said. Throughout this conversation his eyes had stayed rather fixed on the heart tree. 

“I have not often seen you come here to pray,” Dany said, awkwardly. Should she leave? He did not seem to want to talk to her, and yet she felt he had need of it. “Usually I would only see you when Lord Eddard brought you and your siblings down here as a family.” 

“I did not oft come pray here alone,” Robb admitted. “I find I have more to pray for now.” 

Dany toyed with a dried leaf beneath her. She glanced at Robb. His auburn hair fell over his eyes and she watched him push it aside. 

“Bran?” 

“Aye,” Robb whispered. “And my mother. And…and…me.” 

All at once Dany seemed to realize that it had all fallen on him. All of them had been impacted by Lord Eddard’s decision to leave and send Jon away. Dany had lost her closest friend and her love. Catelyn Stark had lost her husband. Rickon, his father. But Robb…Robb had lost all of them, and ended up with a huge castle and vast lands to govern – at fifteen of all ages. And who was there to help him? Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik were able men, but followers more than leaders. And Theon? No doubt he would counsel Robb in his own way, but from what Dany knew of Theon, he would be wise to take all his counsel well-salted. 

It was Jon who should be here standing beside Robb, counseling him, Dany thought. They were meant to rule together – but Lady Catelyn pushed him to the Night’s Watch, in more ways than one. 

“Would you…might I pray with you?” Dany asked, trying her best to help him. What had she ever been taught to do, but pray? 

Robb turned his head towards her, glancing at the seven-pointed star around her neck. “Would that be proper? You’re to be a septa of the Faith, and these are the old gods.” 

She gave him her own tired smile. “You were in the room with King Robert. I think I’ll be taking my vows no matter what happens.” 

He nodded. “In that case, it would please me if you did pray with me.” 

Dany bowed her head and did what she had been taught to do. 

“Gods, if you hear us, please watch over Lord Eddard and his daughters as they make their way south,” Dany started. “Keep them safe, and watch over them. Watch over Jon, Benjen, and Tyrion Lannister and see them safely to Castle Black. Please heal Bran, make him wake if it please you, gods. And be with Robb in the burdens fate has placed upon him, to guide him.” 

Dany looked over at Robb to see that a tear had streaked down his face. He glanced over at her, and wiped it away furiously. Dany looked down and pretended she had not noticed, so as not to shame him. 

They knelt and prayed silently together for a time, before they both went their separate ways, finally off to find rest at last. 

***

Maester Luwin pointed to another Valyrian glyph on the page with a bony finger. 

“To rule,” Dany said, interpreting the glyph. Luwin nodded and pointed to the next. 

“To serve,” Dany said. Another nod. 

“To seek,” Dany said, continuing in her correct streak, then at the next glyph she said: “To…” 

She scrunched up her face then said. “To ride?” 

Luwin raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain?” 

Dany gave it another look. The maester was right – it was more than that. The Valyrians had some much more specific verbs than the Common Tongue had. 

“To ride a dragon,” She said confidently. 

“Very good,” Luwin said, and closed the book. “You are soon approaching the point that learning from books would no longer be of help. You will need to speak the tongue more regularly. You and I must begin having lessons where we only speak High Valyrian to each other.” 

“I would find that pleasant, Maester,” Dany said in High Valyrian. Luwin smiled. 

“I am sorry I cannot stay longer,” Luwin said, gathering up some papers from his desk. Above them in the rafters, a raven cried out. “I must attend Robb – tradesmen from the Winter Town have come to seek audience and I fear Robb…” 

“Will not have his lady mother to help attend to the matter with him,” Dany said. Luwin gave a tired nod. “Has Lady Catelyn still not left Bran’s sickroom?” 

“Not once,” Luwin said. “Have you gone to see Bran?” 

“No,” Dany said sadly. Bran was a sweet boy – most in the castle loved him. He was always full of energy, but oft was left behind when Lord Eddard took Robb, Jon, and Theon off to see justice done or go off on a hunt. During those times, Dany had often tried to play games with him and Arya to distract him, lest he get sullen. Dany liked Bran, and it was wretched to think of a boy so full of life laying broken for so long. 

Luwin looked at her with his light grey eyes in response, a look of understanding in them. He knows Lady Catelyn will give me as warm a welcome as she gave to Jon when he went to say farewell to Bran. 

“You still do not believe he will die?” Dany asked plaintively. 

“No, child,” Luwin said. “But I do not know that he will wake either.” 

Dany thought about that. She did want to see Bran. And in truth, what was there that Lady Catelyn could do to her? King Robert had already decided Dany must take her vows by the end of this year. Her closest friends had already left Winterfell and Mordane too. What could she fear from Catelyn Stark? 

She might look at you in that way that makes you feel so small , a voice inside said. She might remind you that you do not belong. 

Dany thanked the maester and went on her way. She was crossing the yard when she looked over at the Great Keep, where the Stark family apartments were. Bran was up there somewhere. Jon had the bravery to face Lady Stark and go see him. I am the blood of the dragon, Dany reminded herself, for comfort. She headed for Bran. 

The guardsman Lew had the door to the sickroom when Dany arrived. If he had been given some word to keep her from visiting Bran, he made no sign of it, only greeting her pleasantly as she passed by. 

Within the room, Dany felt only sorrow. 

Lady Stark sat still as a statue beside Bran, looking down on him. Dany had never seen the handsome lady ever look so disheveled. Her hair was unkempt and looked like it had not been washed in some time. Her gown was stained had been sweat-through. She didn’t even so much as look up as Dany walked in. 

“My lady,” Dany said. Slowly, Lady Stark turned and saw her. Dany curtsied. Lady Stark turned her head back to Bran almost immediately. 

“What are you doing here?” Her voice asked, flatly. 

“I came to see Bran,” Dany said as confidently as she could muster. I am the blood of the dragon . 

Lady Stark said nothing, just stared down at her son a bit longer. 

“If it please, you, I mean, my lady,” Dany added hurriedly, feeling like a little girl all of the sudden. Her own meekness made her angry. 

“He is no kin of yours,” Lady Catelyn said flatly. 

“Yes, but…” Dany started. What could she say? She knew that Lady Catelyn would not like the truth, but she said it anyway. “I count him as a friend.” 

Lady Catelyn shot her an angry, startled look at that. Then she looked back down, muttering to herself. 

“Foolish, I said so…” Catelyn said under her breath. “My love, what were you thinking?” 

Dany did not think Lady Stark was talking to her so Dany said nothing. She moved to the other side of Bran’s bed, and looked down on him. The injury and weeks abed had taken all color and life from Bran Stark’s skin, and nearly all of the flesh as well. He looked like a small skeleton. Yet he breathed. 

Dany ignored Lady Stark’s curious stare as she took Bran’s hand and knelt. Dany closed her eyes and whispered the Plea to the Father – a common prayer that Septon Orland had taught her from a very young age, considered by the Faith to be the best way to beg a boon from the Father above. 

Catelyn watched her still. “I prayed that same prayer…many times,” she said quietly. 

Dany looked at her with surprise, opened her mouth, then closed it. 

“Each time one of my children was born,” Catelyn went on, her voice as quiet as a whisper. “Asking the Father to keep them healthy…safe…to give them long lives…protect them from danger.” 

Dany looked down and back up. 

“But he ignored me,” Lady Stark said, grasping her long auburn hair to nervously run a hand through it. “Lest, why would I find you at Winterfell before I even arrived? Before Robb even arrived? You and Jon…poison…” 

Dany looked at Lady Catelyn Stark for a long moment. For the first time in her life, she did not feel afraid of her. She did not feel angry with her. She felt nothing but pity. 

She is Sansa, older and wiser, but still the same, Dany realized. Still believing that as long as a noble lady does what she is supposed to do, does what she is told, she will avoid suffering. If that were true, why had so many good and noble ladies met death and despair? Why had Rhaella Targaryen lived a life cut so short? Why had Rhaenys Targaryen, Rhaegar’s daughter, been brutally killed before she even had a chance to live? 

“The Mother will forgive you, my lady,” Dany said softly. 

Catelyn looked at her with a mixture of confusion and venom. “What did you say to me?” 

“The Mother is merciful,” Dany said. “She will forgive you for Jon. And for me.” 

“I need no forgiveness for –” 

“Oh, but you do,” Dany said, not unkindly. “I think you must know that. It is why you sit here all day and all night like you have done something to cause this.” Dany gestured to Bran. 

“I don’t…” Lady Stark started again. But Dany rose this time and walked towards the door.

“I am sorry, my lady,” She said gently. “I will pray for him, and for you.” 

Daenerys Targaryen left, feeling better than she had in some time. 

*** 

The sept looked spotless, and Dany could not help but smile as she observed her handiwork. Septa Mordane would have been quite pleased as well, if she had been here. Dany could almost hear the good woman’s voice saying “The gods are pleased, child.” 

Dany missed her. And Jon. And Arya. She knelt and prayed before the altar of the Father, asking him to keep her absent friends safe, to heal Bran, and finally, to look after Robb in his new burdens. 

She thought of Robb – he had never seemed so alone in all the time that Dany had known him. He had Theon, but from what Dany had often observed, Robb seemed to want to impress Theon more than he wanted to be vulnerable and admit his difficulties to him. Theon was both friend and older brother, though Dany thought anyone would do better than to look up to the Greyjoy boy. 

I should seek Robb, and try to give him company , Dany thought. Jon was there for him, and was a friend to him. He would not want Robb to be alone in this time. 

And in truth, Dany did not want to feel alone either. 

Thought of Jon made Dany go over to the quill and parchment she had set out when she came down to the sept. She knelt before a bench and used it as a surface to write on as she began to scratch out a letter to Jon. She no longer cared if reached Castle Black before Jon did – perhaps after a long ride north, it would give him comfort to hear from her.  As she wrote it, she tried to ignore the way that she longed for Jon. To feel his lips upon hers again, to imagine what it would be like to have him hold her tight against his body. To lay with him in the godswood and run her fingers through his long dark hair. 

She looked up at the sound of the door to the sept opening, cold air making the candles shiver like the night she had last seen Quaithe. Dany looked up expecting to greet Septon Chayle.

But it was not Septon Chayle who stood in the doorway. 

A hooded man in dirty brown clothes and a dirty brown cloak stood in the doorway. It was odd to see anyone in the sept but Chayle or Mordane or Lady Catelyn. This man had limp blonde hair and a gaunt face. He had an apprehensive look in his eyes. 

“Oh,” Dany said, surprised. “Good evening…are you…here to pray?” 

As soon as Dany said it, she realized that was wrong. I do not recognize this man . She had lived at Winterfell for years and knew every servant and guardsmen. This man smelled of horses, but she had never seen him working in Winterfell’s stables. Had Robb or Maester Luwin hired some new servants? Some new man for the stables who worships the Seven? That did not seem right. 

Dany felt her stomach clench when he closed the door to the sept behind him, looking at her quietly. 

“I am…” He started, his voice thick and inarticulate. Dany felt she should run. She moved towards the sept’s door but he moved first, more quickly than she might have imagined. 

Daenerys Targaryen never saw him slide the blade out from under his sleeve, but only felt him put it in her belly, a few inches below and to the left of her navel. 

She must have gasped, or started to scream, because he put a hand to her mouth. The pain was excruciating, the sharpness of the dagger. Outside, all the dogs in Winterfell’s kennels seemed to start barking all at once. Dany barely heard it. All her senses were focused on the place where the dagger broke her skin. 

“It’s…I am sorry for…but he said…” The man stuttered stupidly, as if trying to apologize but not really sure how to put it. 

Dany felt blood trickling down her pure white septa’s robes, no doubt staining them dark red. When he pulled the knife out, Dany felt more excruciating pain. 

The man made as if to stab her again, holding her up with an arm around her waist as he positioned the knife. Then a bell began to ring, like the bell that had rung the day that Bran fell. 

“Bugger me,” The man muttered, looking up at the sound of the bell with a look on his face as if he had an urgent appointment elsewhere. He wiped the blood from the dagger on the front of Dany’s robes, and scurried quickly from the sept. 

Dany did not remember falling, but soon she was on the floor. 

“Jon…” she whispered hoarsely. She held her hands against the wound, feeling the blood gush around her fingers. She lay, looking up at the inhuman likeness of the Stranger looking back down at her. 

“Dany!” A voice called, a voice as familiar as a brother’s voice, trying to be heard over the ringing of some faraway bell. “The library tower – oh gods!” 

Strong, deft hands were pressed against the wound now, and a cloak was thrown on top of her. That was good. She felt so cold – unnaturally cold. 

“Jon?” Dany asked, barely hearing her own voice. 

“Get the Maester!” the voice cried. “Now! You, Quent, get the bloody maester, forget about the fire!” 

Dany could see Chayle above her. Dany smiled. It was always so good to see him. Chayle had been the one who helped her learn what it meant to be a Targaryen. 

“Look Chayle,” Dany said, holding up her red hand before the septon’s face and smiling even wider. “The blood of the dragon.” 

“Don’t move,” He said, fear in his voice. 

“Gods preserve us,” Another voice said from the door of the sept. Maester Luwin . Dany held up her hand in his direction and said the High Valyrian word for blood. He didn’t respond. 

Kneeling over her, Luwin began to touch her belly. It hurt. Dany groaned, and looked out towards the Stranger again. Below the altar of the stranger, Quaithe stood shadowed in darkness, watching Dany. All Luwin or Chayle would have had to do to see her was turn around, but they seemed to be focused on Dany. 

“My blood?” Dany called to Quaithe, but her voice was so quiet now she was not sure if the shadow woman could even hear her. Dany looked at her hands, feeling the edges of her vision fading. 

“The false sons…” She said aloud. 

“Hush child,” Luwin insisted. 

“They want…my truth, my heart? My…” held up her hand again. “Blood.” 

Before long, Dany felt nothing. 

Chapter 15: The Stark in Winterfell

In a cottage by the sea, Daenerys Targaryen wore faded roughspun and swept the floor of their tiny dwelling. 

The babe squalled from the other room and Dany put down the broom. She pulled her son from his cradle and held him against her breast. 

“ The Father’s face is stern and strong,” She sang gently, bouncing him in her arms. “ He sits and judges right from wrong, he weighs our lives the short and long, and loves the little children. ” 

Still the babe cried. Dany stroked the dark tufts of hair on his soft head, looking deep into his violet eyes. 

“ The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children,” Dany sang, and gave the child a small bump on the nose with her finger as she said the last word. The boy giggled at that. 

The door to the cottage opened, and Jon shook off the snow from his cloak. He had a beard, and was taller than she remembered him. She had patched a hole in his cloak just yesterday, but already it looked worn again. He hung it on the door and came over and kissed her cheek. 

“Twenty cod today,” He said as he went to warm his hands by the hearth. “But it is no longer autumn, I care not what the maesters say. Are you sure we should not go to the riverlands for the winter? There is fishing there as well.” 

Dany moved to stand beside him before the hearth, laying her head on his shoulder. “You are of the North,” Dany said. “This is your place.” 

Jon smiled at her, and moved to take the babe from her arms. She gave him his son. Jon went to sit in a soft chair and began to bounce the lad on his knee, making their son laugh more. Dany smiled at them, watching. But suddenly there was pain in her belly. 

She looked down, and through the worn roughspun she wore, there was a hole weeping blood just below and to the left of her navel. She touched it, and shuddered.

But when she touched it, it was gone. And so was the roughspun. She wore a fine, deep crimson gown, slashed with black. She sat, and all around her were the jagged spikes of melted swords. 

Daenerys Targaryen looked up. She was seated high above a hall filled with richly-dressed lords and ladies fair. All along the hall, the skulls of dead dragons looked down upon her court.

Below her, seven men in white cloaks were arrayed before her protectively. 

“All kneel for Daenerys of the House Targaryen,” A familiar voice rang out. Near the foot of her throne, behind the crescent of white-cloaks, stood Jon again. He wore a rich black and red velvet doublet and a small circlet of gold in his dark hair. Dany reached up, feeling a weight on her own head. A crown sat there as well, and Dany felt the outline of it, the weight of it. 

“First of her Name,” Jon went on. “Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” 

The men and women in the hall knelt, and outside, past the walls of the throne room, Dany heard some beast cry out – a song so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. 

But again, she felt that familiar pain in her side and looked down. Her fine gown was dripping blood where the hole was. 

Again, it was all gone. 

Now Dany wore familiar garb. A white robe that a septa would wear. She sat in a chamber in some castle. She could see mountains in the distance out the window. A brown-haired girl sat beside Dany, trying to fix her needlework. 

“I can’t, septa,” The girl said, despairing. She was Arya’s age, and reminded Dany a bit of Arya. But it was not Arya. On this girl’s purple gown were embroidered six bells in white thread. 

“You can,” Dany promised the girl, putting a wrinkled hand on the girl’s shoulder. Dany’s voice was raspier than she remembered – an old woman’s voice. “Patience, child.” 

“Yes, septa,” The girl said, looking down at the stitches again. There were tears in the girls’ eyes. Dany pulled the girl onto her lap. “It takes practice. All things do.” 

The girl pressed her head to Dany’s shoulder. Dany was not the girl’s mother, but it felt good to nurture her, to love her like Mordane had loved Dany. 

And still the blood flowed from her wound. 

Dany did not know who she was this time. She was watching from afar. She was in a vast, airy bedchamber in a high tower overlooking the sea. Below, the red walls of a castle could be seen. Dany felt she was no one in this picture. A woman stood near the windows and argued with a man.

“I am with child,” The woman insisted anxiously. She was beautiful, with Dany’s own silver-blonde hair and violet eyes. She could not have been much older than thirty, but there were bags under her eyes, and bruises on her skin. “I should take Viserys and go to Pentos. Or Braavos.” 

“And do what? ” A shrill voice asked. A thin, bearded man, in stained black and red robes paced restlessly before the window. Fingernails grew from his hands like claws. “Betray me? Hm? Like the rest of them?” 

“More flock to Robert’s banners every day, we are not safe ,” The woman insisted. “We can cross the sea. Or go with Elia and her children to Sunspear, far from the fighting. Either way, Rhaenys and Aegon should come with us as well.” 

“Rhaenys and Aegon are my hostages, just as Elia is,” The man said, waving a hand angrily. “They can leave once Martell proves his loyalty.” 

“Hostages?” The woman said aghast. “Gods be good, they are your grandchildren .” 

“Are they?” He whirled on the woman. “Only if Rhaegar is truly my son. I saw the way you always looked at that fool. Always trying to win tourneys for you. Hasty. Fool.” The thin man spat on the ground. 

“I have never strayed from your bed,” The woman said. “Can you say the same?” 

When the man turned to look at her, the woman cringed away as if frightened. “Please, your grace, just let me take them to safety.” She put her hands protectively over her belly. 

“Fine, to Dragonstone,” He said angrily. “And just you and Viserys. Gods hope you give me a son, I could use some loyalty in this family. I want you all close. Elia and her babes remain here.” 

There was a somber cast to the woman’s face at that but she simply nodded. “As…as you say.” 

The woman thanked the man and Dany followed her, without actually feeling herself move, as she left the room and went down the stairs. 

The woman rubbed the flat of her stomach again. “Dragonstone,” She said wistfully. “You will be safe on Dragonstone, my daughter.” The woman sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. 

“Milk of the poppy,” A voice said, and Dany drank. Someone sat next to her bed and held her hand, and it made Dany feel whole. 

She descended again into a haze, saw the face of Quaithe and of the Stranger. She heard “Milk of the poppy” once more and knew it was Maester Luwin. 

She heard praying, beseeching the Mother above to give her healing to Dany. Chayle’s voice . 

And when here eyes fluttered, she saw Robb Stark sitting next to her bed, holding her hand. She smiled at him and went back to sleep. 

Dany oscillated between waking and sleeping, never quite knowing the difference between them. She considered Luwin and Chayle and Robb. How did they fit into the cottage she lived in by the sea with Jon? How did they fit into her royal court, or the girl Dany was teaching to sew. Come to think of it, how did any of those scenes fit together? They didn’t. 

Robb is heir to Winterfell , Dany reminded herself. Luwin is their maester. Chayle…

Chayle had grown up alongside Dany. Dany had been raised at Winterfell to be a septa. Her name was Daenerys Targaryen, a hostage of the Starks of Winterfell. She was fourteen years old. A man had…

Dany sat up suddenly in the bed, clutching her wound. A heavy bandage covered it, she could feel it beneath her shift. Robb stood to his feet beside her. 

“Daenerys, lie down,” He said, and his strong hands were on her shoulders, gently pushing her back towards the bed. “You are safe, lie down.” 

A man stabbed me . Suddenly she felt so much pain where it had happened, and her body  felt cold and empty. Dany felt weak, like if she had tried to stand up she would have fallen to the floor. 

“Egg,” She whispered at Robb. 

“You…want eggs?” He looked down at her, concerned. “I can send to the kitchens.” 

She reached up and stroked Robb’s face, so much like Lady Catelyn’s. Usually that made her mad, but right now it made her feel at home. 

“Under my bed…” Dany said, her voice shaky, her mind still a cloudy haze. “Can I trust you?” 

Robb looked at her strangely, then nodded. “Yes, of course.” 

“Under my bed, below the broken floor board,” She whispered. “Bring it to me. Put it under the covers with me.” 

Sleep took her again. 

When next Dany woke, she felt ten times stronger. She cradled warmth in her arms, something heavy and hard, and she nuzzled it.

Dany opened her eyes. It was quiet and dark. She pulled the dragon’s egg up to look at it. It was still white, streaked with silver. Stark colors , Dany thought. 

It felt warmer than it had the last time she held it. When Dany remembered why she was here, fear filled her body. It all came back to her in a mad rush. The stranger in the sept. The knife. The blood. 

Dany felt like she might vomit. She slid the egg back under her covers. 

“Hello?” She called out. The door opened and Quent stepped inside. 

“My lady, you are awake,” He said in awe. 

“Quent, can you send for…” Dany started to say Septon Chayle -- Chayle was who she wanted to see more than anything. But she thought about the egg at her side. She had told…Robb Stark? 

The cobwebs seemed like they had been shaken by her mind -- and suddenly she was afraid again. Of so, so many things. 

“Tell Robb I am awake,” Dany said quietly. 

While she waited for Robb, a servant came and propped her up slightly on some pillows, so that she might drink some water, and brought her some toasted bread with honey to nibble at. When Dany was briefly alone, she moved the egg behind the pillows so that it would seem like a lump among them. 

Robb Stark came wearing riding leathers and a sword at his belt. Dany had never seen Robb wear a real sword while walking about Winterfell. He sat next to the bed, his eyes looking almost as guileless as Sansa’s. 

He moved his hand closer and took her hands in his. Dany looked down at the gesture and must have frowned, because he released her hands. Suddenly she remembered him holding her hand while she slept, and realized it must have become quite a familiar gesture. He did not take her hands again. 

“Is he…?” Dany started, too afraid to finish the question, realizing that nothing had ever scared her more than imagining the man who attacked her was still alive somewhere out there in the world. 

“Dead,” Robb said. “Bran’s direwolf killed him.” 

The wheels in Dany’s head moved in slow, halting circles. “The wolf? Why?” 

“The man tried to kill Bran too,” Robb said. “He set the library tower aflame and me and every other man in the castle ran off to help put it out. Chayle feared you might have been inside the library tower or else he would not have gone to the sept to check on you. Maester Luwin thinks you might have…lost too much blood if he hadn’t.”

Dany felt herself go pale. Robb looked down again, his face twisting in anger. 

“The man went right from the sept to Bran’s sickroom. My lady mother fended him off, nearly had her fingers sliced off. But somehow…Bran’s wolf knew and went to them. He tore the man’s --” 

Dany waved a hand. “Later. Is Bran alright? Is Lady Catelyn? How can we be sure there are not more assassins? They could be --” 

Dany started to feel herself tremble as the anxiety came on and Robb did take her hands again then. It soothed her. Robb leaned in close. 

“Where is it?” He asked in a gentle voice.

“Beneath the pillows,” Dany said. Robb found it, pulled it out, and placed the stone egg in her hands. She calmed.

“We will talk of why you have it another time,” Robb said, his voice firm and icy like his lord fathers. Then it softened as he placed a hand on it. “No one knows I brought it to you. But once I did, Maester Luwin said you improved. He said you were very lucky -- a cut that deep to the belly, if he had stabbed you in any other spot, you would be dead.” 

“I am the very soul of luck, Robb,” Dany said dryly. Robb snorted back laughter. He put the egg back under her pillows and took her hands again, stroking her fingers with his. Dany felt warm at the gesture, less afraid. 

“My lady mother has gone to King’s Landing with Ser Rodrik,” Robb said, leaning towards her and lowering his voice. “She bid me not tell you but…” 

“But you know that is unfair, considering,” Dany nodded down to her wounded abdomen. 

Robb blushed, as if embarrassed that he had considered following his mother’s directive on the issue. “She thinks she knows who did it.” 

“That is enough for today, Robb,” Maester Luwin said, stepping in the room. Dany moved to hide the egg, but Luwin did not seem to notice it – or if he did he did not take not. He approached the bed and Dany looked up at him with a smile. 

“Maester,” Dany said. “I am told I owe you my life.” 

“Me, Chayle, and a would-be assassin’s poor planning,” Luwin said gently, smiling down at her. “How do you feel, my lady?” 

Robb stood behind him as Maester Luwin prepared another cup of milk of the poppy. 

“Like I’ve been stabbed, maester,” Dany said with a light smile. When Luwin gave her a chastising look, she sighed. “Stiff. The wound hurts and I ache all over.” 

“Sleep and rest will heal you,” Luwin said, maester’s chain chinking softly as he brought the cup to her lips. The taste was no summer wine, but Dany did as she was bid. 

“I will come change your bandage in a few hours, my lady,” Luwin said gently. “Rest.” 

As Luwin departed, Robb came to her side one more time. “I will come check on you again.” 

“Joffrey,” Dany whispered, as sleep came to take her. 

“What?” Robb said, cocking his head. 

She remembered Robb’s confused face as she fell into formless dreams. 

***

When next she woke up, it was Septon Chayle who sat beside her bed. Sun streaked in through the windows now, and the septon looked down at her fretfully. 

“You look better,” He said down at her. 

“The gods are good,” Dany said, gently. She had hoped it would make Chayle smile, and it did. 

“Not so good that they stopped this from happening entirely,” Chayle said mournfully. 

Dany was tired of waking up and being fretted over every other minute. She made a joke of it with Chayle too, hoping to move past the fear and anxiety he felt from her attack. 

“Septa Mordane leaves me in your care for a few weeks and I nearly die,” Dany said after making a tsking sound. “She is going to give you quite the chiding.” 

“Perhaps she’ll relent when she hears how heroically I saved you?” He said with a grin, puffing out his chest. 

“Like Florian himself,” Dany teased. “Shall I call you Ser Chayle?” 

He gave Dany a light thwap on the side, and Dany pretended as if it had hurt much more with her wound and gave a wince. Chayle moved forward with a look of deep concern on his face, but when Dany began to giggle, he shook his head. 

“You are a wicked child,” He said, grinning despite himself. 

They sat for a long while, talking and jesting and reminiscing about times gone past. They both laughed as they discussed the time that Septon Orland had chased one of the puppies from Farlen’s kennels that had gotten out and into the sept. He had nearly burned the sept down after stumbling into the altar of the Smith, and Septa Mordane had to throw a bucket of water that went half on Orland. Laughing hurt her side a little bit, but it did not make Dany want to laugh any less. 

Eventually, Luwin came and made to check her stitches. Chayle excused himself and Dany was informed that it was time to move past the milk of the poppy, and that soon she would need to try and stand -- and try walking. 

Luwin informed her that there would be almost no lasting damage other than a scar, once she fully recovered, but that was still a long way off. It would be some time before she could ride. 

As the warm glow of sunset came in through the windows, servants came, bringing a small table that they set between the bed.

“What’s this?” Dany asked the servant as she brought a candle and lit it on the table. 

“It is about time you had a proper meal,” Robb said, entering the room. “Gage is making a stew with venison, and I’ve asked him to make lemon cakes as well -- your favorite?” 

Dany chuckled. “Robb, I think lemon cakes were Sansa’s favorite.” 

Robb frowned and put a hand on his forehead, and Dany could not help but smile. “I like them too, do not worry.” 

Robb helped prop her up and moved the table close to the bed so that she might lean over it without putting strain on her left side. Servants brought the stew which was easy on Dany’s stomach, still upset from so long filled with the Milk of the Poppy. Grey Wind, looking bigger than Dany remembered from before she had been attacked, slunk in the door and found a place near Robb’s feet. 

Robb and her sat in silence for a while, enjoying the stew. Finally, Robb spoke. 

“Did Jon know?” He asked. 

Dany did not have to be told. It was the dragon’s egg. Of course he would ask about it. No doubt Robb was thinking the same things Ned Stark would be thinking about finding out she had it: is it treason to let her keep it? 

“He’s the only one who knew, besides me,” Dany said, looking down at the stew. “Does Jon know…what happened to me?”

A part of Dany had a vision of Jon riding down the kingsroad anxiously to her side, feverish to be with her once again once he heard the danger his lady love was in. 

“I have not sent a bird regarding the attack to anyone outside of Winterfell,” Robb said. “My lady mother and I thought it best for certain reasons to ensure no one outside the castle knows.” 

“Why?” 

Robb looked anxious, as if he wanted to tell her something he shouldn’t. 

“My lady…” 

“Your mother told you not to speak of it with me?” Dany said, feeling heat rise to her face. Stabbed by an assassin and Lady Catelyn still does not trust me enough to even discuss who might have sent them. 

“She swore me to secrecy, and the others,” Robb said, blushing. “Ser Rodrik, Theon --” 

Dany cut him off, angry now. “ Theon ? Gods be good, Robb. Theon may know but not me, who actually had the knife in her belly?” 

“I gave my vow ,” Robb said stubbornly. 

Dany calmed herself, remembering the last time she had let her anger run away with Robb and regretted it later. She spooned some more venison into her mouth and thought for a moment. 

“You are the lord now, with your mother and father away?” Dany asked quietly. “The Stark in Winterfell?” 

“Yes, my lady,” Robb said. 

“A lord can make a decision for himself on who to trust,” Dany said. “Jon trusted me. And I trusted you.” 

She patted the hard outline of the dragon’s egg beneath the pillows. 

“You should not have that,” Robb said, uncertainly. “Where did it come from?” 

“Your crypts,” Dany said. “But I do not know why it was down there.” 

Robb’s face went incredulous and Dany gave him the whole tale. She spoke of Jon and Lord Cregan and her theories regarding Jacaerys Velaryon. She felt nervous telling it all to Robb. But she tried to remember the same thing she had told him. Jon trusted Robb. And if I want Robb to trust me, I might start by offering him the same. 

When she was done with the tale, Robb sat thinking for a long moment, long enough for the lemon cakes to be brought out. Dany began to nibble at one gently.

“So, you robbed my ancestor’s grave?” He finally said in a voice as solemn as Lord Eddard himself would have had. 

Dany’s eyes flicked up to him and they looked at each other for a moment. His smile broke first and he began to laugh. Dany had no choice but to join in. The jape’s humor was nowhere near commensurate with the amount of time they laughed, but it seemed that both Robb Stark and Daenerys Targaryen needed it. 

“It…it is just a stone,” Dany said. “It makes me feel connected to my family.” 

Robb reached down and scratched Grey Wind behind the ear. “I can understand that. I will not take it from you, my lady.” 

“Thank you, Robb,” Dany said, giving him an appreciative smile. It made him blush and Dany had to suppress a roll of her eyes. 

“My mother…” Robb started, looking down. Then he looked up again with conviction. “She received word that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. She has reason to believe they were behind Bran’s fall. We believe the man who wielded the dagger was sent to slay you and Bran. He was most like a man who came to Winterfell with the royal party. The only part we can’t piece together is why he tried to kill you too.” 

Dany felt cold all over at those words. “ Joffrey ,” She said in a whisper. She did not know how she knew it, but felt certain -- Joffrey had sent the catspaw to slay her and Bran. 

“No, surely not,” Robb said confused. “He’s no more than a boy.” 

“It was him,” Dany said firmly. And then she remembered. She put a hand over her mouth as she realized. 

The false, golden son will want your blood.

Chapter 16: Of Lordship and Dwarves

Notes:

To those following along, apologies that this update is only one chapter. I generally like to release at least two at once. Life has become busy as it so often does, but I anticipate writing with much greater pace in the weeks to come. We are roughly four chapters away from the end of Part Two of this story. Please enjoy Chapter 16!

Winterfell’s Great Hall filled Dany with more joy than she had felt in weeks. 

Maester Luwin helped her to the high table where she took the seat next to Maester Luwin, who sat to the left of Robb in the high seat. On Robb’s direct right was Rickon, squirming and kicking as only a boy of three could at the dinner table. Theon sat to Rickon’s right.

“It is good to have you back among us, my lady,” Robb said, as he motioned for the food to be served.

“I am glad to be back,” Dany said. And she was in complete earnest – it was the first time that Maester Luwin had consented to allow her to take her meal outside of her sickroom below the maester’s turret. The sights of the guardsmen and garrison at their accustomed place on the benches, the smell of fresh-baked bread and spiced meats, the sounds of so many voices in conversation – they filled Dany with joy. They made her feel alive. And when one has such a close brush with death, she had found there is little else they want.

It did not bother her that the high table was missing her favorite people – not today. It did not bother her that the guards on the benches numbered far fewer than when Lord Eddard went south, nor that the mirth in the room was not the same as when the hall was filled with Starks. This made her feel normal for the first time in weeks. 

Her side ached still from the effort of making it to her place on the bench, but not as much as she thought it would. I am healing. I am the blood of the dragon , she reminded herself. A little pain would not be enough to keep her from getting out of the sick room. 

The same could not be said for Brandon Stark, who still lingered in his sick bed, growing frailer every day. And yet, Maester Luwin still insisted the boy would live. 

Servants poured summer wine for the diners, too fine a vintage for any old supper. But Dany glanced up at Robb who was watching her as she took her first sip, and suspected that he had ordered this cask brought out just for her return to the Great Hall – another of his amusingly sweet if not entirely subtle gestures. 

The fare was fine as well – a rare cut of beef served after a vegetable stew that tasted fresh from Winterfell’s glass gardens. 

Robb looked happy enough to see her at the table, but still tired and far away. Much must have been on Robb’s mind, Dany knew. Bran had not woken. His mother had gone south on her fool’s mission to find the answer to a question that Dany already knew the answer to. She wanted to argue more about that with Robb, but knew that this was not the time nor the place to discuss the catspaw or who sent him. 

“How is your pain?” Luwin asked. 

“Small enough, maester,” She said, giving him a bright smile. “I can hardly feel it.” 

“I for one am pleased you are back among us,” Theon Greyjoy said with a smile, downing his third cup of wine as the rest of them were still waiting to have their second poured. He made his face a smirking leer as he continued. “A man grows tired of having no one but other men to look at when he enjoys a meal.” 

Dany rolled her eyes. Greyjoy was a flirt – never too boldly in front of Robb, but a flirt nonetheless. 

“Perhaps you should look to your food,” Robb said with a grimace on his face. Dany could not help but smirk. He had little liking for that . 

“I don’t want Theon , I want mother,” Rickon said stubbornly as he looked to his right, squirming in his chair. “I want her, where is she? And Shaggy, I want Shaggy too.” 

“Shaggydog is in the yard,” Luwin said gently. “You may go see him after your supper.” 

“Grey Wind is here, Shaggy should be too,” Rickon said, pointing down at Robb’s wolf stalking amongst the benches, looking for scraps. 

“Grey Wind knows how to behave at table,” Luwin said. “Shaggydog does not.” 

Rickon hmphed , grabbed up the remainder of his dinner and tossing it to the floor. Grey Wind went for it eagerly as Rickon sat back, crossing his arms in a pout. 

Robb watched with tired eyes as Grey Wind ate the discarded meat. 

“Bloody hell, I would have eaten that,” Theon said darkly. 

Dany made to change the subject. “Have we had any word from Lord Eddard?” 

“The king’s party sent word that they are nearing the Trident,” Luwin said. 

Dany thought of Arya and all the things she was getting to see and experience. Was she enjoying them? Seeing the potential adventure in it all? Dany hoped so. 

“And, um,” Dany started, feeling awkward. “Any word from the Wall?” 

“Of Jon, you mean?” Theon said, grinning at her. Dany kept her face still

“No, not since we received word Benjen’s party made it safely north,” Luwin started. “I do not anticipate that we will receive…” 

“I see,” Dany said, cutting him off and turning back to her plate. 

She grasped her goblet of wine in one hand and threw back the rest of it. Theon grinned at her across the table, and Robb kept his face solemn in the high seat of the Starks. 

They ate in silence for a time, talking occasionally of mundane things. Dany thought of Jon on the Wall. Would they have already sent him ranging? Could he be fighting wildlings at this very moment? 

The thought made her shiver. Luwin noticed the motion. “Are you unwell, Lady Daenerys?” 

Suddenly the Great Hall felt stuffy, loud, and too full of people. Suddenly, Dany felt she did not want to be around all these people. I want Jon, alone in the Godswood, like I had him before. 

“I am fine ,” She said too sharply. Another awkward silence at the table. They ate on. 

At the end, as Dany was helped up by Luwin, Robb descended the high seat and asked if he might help her back to her room. 

“That will not be necessary,” Dany demurred. Robb insisted, as Dany knew he would. 

They walked through the yard, the wind cold and making her wound ache. Robb’s arm was solid as she held it. 

“I am glad you are feeling better,” He said. 

“I would feel a deal better if everyone ceased this endless fussing over me,” Dany said, irritably. 

“How dreadful, to have people who care for your wellbeing,” Robb said in his tired voice. 

Suddenly, Dany felt foolish. 

“I am grateful,” She said, turning to Robb, watching his auburn hair whip around his face in the cold wind. Dany’s own long, silvery braid was rustling against her shoulder. “I apologize. It has been a difficult couple of weeks.” 

“I know,” Robb said, in a voice that told her that he truly did. 

“You look like you have not slept in a few nights, Robb,” Dany said. She had truly never seen Robb like this. His expression bordered on wan more often than not, and the bags under his eyes grew with every passing day. 

“I’ve been sleeping – a few hours each night, plenty,” Robb said. 

“Well, why do you not go get some sleep now?” 

“I have tables and charts to go over,” He said grimly. “Granary information. Maester Luwin says the days are growing shorter. Winter is coming.” 

No doubt Robb thought saying that made him sound as enigmatic and stern as his father. But the slight crack in his voice reminded Dany that he was only fifteen. 

“Robb, let Maester Luwin see to it,” Dany said, the denizens of Winterfell milling about the yard around them as they stood in the cold. “Forgive me, but you are hopeless at sums.” 

“I am not,” Robb insisted. “Besides, I’ve set Luwin to many tasks already, he does the work of three men. My father would –” 

“Your father had plenty of help, Robb. Let me come help you with the sums at least. Truly, you and Sansa never had much of a head for it.” 

Robb sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Can I assume you will not relent until I let you help?” 

“You can,” Dany said with a smirk. 

For the next two hours, Robb and Dany sat in Lord Eddard’s solar. Dany saw to the calculations from the granaries while Robb caught up on letters sent to the Winterfell by the Stark bannermen, regarding various reports and petitions. Robb put some aside, and some he sat and wrote out responses. 

Dany filled out the tables, doing calculations on a side piece of paper as Luwin had taught her. She found sums to be easier than other subjects – it was more tangible, there was always an answer if you knew how to get it. History, for example, vexed her sometimes. She could remember years and names of battles, but always found that there were unknowable factors that she could not understand unless she had spoken through people who had lived in those times. But sums she could always understand. 

At the end, she showed her work to Robb. 

“This would have taken me hours,” He said, scanning over the chart with his eyes. 

Dany tried not to smile. “I told you, you are hopeless at sums.” 

Robb chuckled, and continued to look over the amounts. “There is a steward from White Harbor I’ll be giving audience to tomorrow regarding these calculations. I’ll need to determine how much more grain we’ll want to bring in from Pentos or Tyrosh. Would you attend me during the audience?” 

Dany felt honestly taken aback. 

“Me?” 

Robb looked bemused. “You. You did the calculations, I might have questions that only you can answer.” 

“You’ll be representing Winterfell…” Dany said, uncertainly. “Something tells me Lady Catelyn would not prefer for me to sit by your side while you do it.” 

“He is just a steward,” Robb shrugged, and turning to meet her gaze said. “And my lady mother is not here.” 

“No,” Dany smiled. “She is not.” 

Robb finally walked her back to her room, and as they finished crossing the yard, Dany asked him. 

“Have you sent word to your mother? About what I said of Joffrey?” 

“I do not know where she and Ser Rodrik are exactly,” Robb said, and more uncomfortably: “And I do not not know that you are correct.” 

That annoyed Dany as it had before. “Your version makes even less sense. Jaime or Cersei Lannister was behind it? What do either of them have to gain from killing Bran?” 

Dany knew what interest the Lannisters would have in killing her. I have a claim to the Iron Throne. No doubt they would like to see me dead so Joffrey can one day sit his throne more comfortably. And perhaps the Kingslayer will sleep easier of a night when all of us Targaryens are dead. Still, it did not account for Bran’s attempted assassination. 

“I told you, my mother thinks that perhaps Bran learned some secret – that his fall was an attempt on his life, and the catspaw an attempt to finish the job,” Robb insisted. “Besides, even if Joffrey wanted to kill you, what desire would he have to kill Bran?” 

Dany chewed on that. “It’s just…it seems foolish, no? What point of giving the assassin such a fine dagger, knowing it might implicate someone of greater status? And if the man had been caught, questioned, he might have given up those who hired him. It was a foolish plan. Someone like Cersei strikes me as much more subtle. But Joffrey is just a boy.” 

Robb helped Dany up the steps and to her door. “Perhaps you’re right. My lady mother will learn more of the truth in the south.” 

They stood at the precipice of her doorway. “And will you tell me what she learns?” 

“Yes,” Robb affirmed. 

“Even if she returns to Winterfell and chides you for sharing so much with me already?” 

Robb turned red at that and opened his mouth, closing it almost immediately. Dany snorted derisively. 

“Get some sleep, Robb.” 

***

The next day, Dany accompanied Robb to a meeting with the steward from White Harbor, going over lists and ledgers. Dany found she felt oddly proud to sit up at the high table below where Robb sat in the high seat of the Starks. 

Theon sat to Robb’s right and Dany to Robb’s left. Greyjoy looked bored with the proceedings, but Dany found herself listening raptly. The topic might be dry, but she found it quite interesting to learn how the various lords of the North learned to prepare for winter. 

Finally, when it came to Dany’s calculations, Robb asked her a few questions as it was discussed, and Dany described to the steward through the chart she had drawn up. 

When finally the man left, Robb looked tired, Theon was spinning his dagger on the table in boredom, but Dany was beaming. 

“Thank you for coming to attend me, my lady,” Robb said after the steward had left. “It would not have been easy to answer some of those questions without you.” 

Theon snorted. “Yes, Lord Robb enjoys your company greatly, my lady.” 

Robb shot him a contemptuous look and Dany found herself smiling with a blush. 

“I liked it,” She said, sounding like a little girl to her own ears. 

“That makes one of us,” Theon teased further. “Robb, we’ve put off training long enough, don’t you think?” 

Robb nodded. “Will you join us in the yard, Daenerys?” 

Dany nodded. “And Robb, truly, if I can assist you with something like this in the future, I’d be happy to do it.” 

Robb seemed well-pleased by that, and Theon looked back and forth between the two as if he found it greatly amusing. 

Robb was helping Dany out of her chair, when suddenly a serving girl burst through the far end of the Great Hall, shouting. 

“He’s awake!” She cried. “M’lord, he’s awake!” 

“ Bran? ” Robb exclaimed, voice thick with emotion. 

“Aye, m’lord!” 

Robb released Dany’s arm and sprinted from the room, leaving Dany and Theon behind. Theon moved to take Dany’s arm and led her slowly towards the end of the hall, where they stepped in the yard and headed for Bran’s sickroom. 

“Bloody hell,” Theon said as they moved as fast as they could up the steps. “I thought the boy would die for certain.” 

“I suppose the Starks are not so easy to kill,” Dany thought aloud, thinking of the stern stone face of Cregan Stark she had seen in the crypts of Winterfell. Theon gave her one of his accustomed grins that could mean anything or nothing. 

Bran’s sickroom was crowded with guardsmen and servants. Maester Luwin hovered above the boy, feeling his face with the back of a hand. Robb knelt by the bed, holding Bran’s small, fleshless hand on both of his, tears streaming down his face. 

Bran looked eerily calm, his other hand on the head of his direwolf pup, who curled beside him in the bed. 

“Dany,” Bran said with a solemn look. “I named him. I’ve just told Robb. Summer.” 

Daenerys Targaryen looked at Bran stark for a long moment, glancing at Theon and down at Robb. Robb began laughing through his tears, Theon chuckled and Dany soon found herself laughing deeply as well. 

***

The next two weeks at Winterfell followed some familiar patterns. 

Dany spent her mornings cleaning the sept and praying with Septon Chayle. Then she would usually go and sit with Bran for awhile, who was still bedridden and quite cross to be. Then she might go read in the godswood or perhaps watch the boys at swordplay in the yard, or take a lesson with Maester Luwin if he had time. She would sup with the remaining Starks and Theon in the Great Hall, and usually sit with Robb for an hour or two going over accounts afterwards. 

This morning, Dany dressed warmly – snow fell around her and she headed for the Great Keep to see Bran.

Heading up the steps, she came across the tiny, wizened woman the Starks called Old Nan coming down. “The little lord is in a foul mood today, m’lady.” 

Dany liked Old Nan, who had included the Targaryen hostage in her storytelling to the Stark children after Dany had been allowed to start spending time with them as a child. She even told Dany stories of dragons and Targaryens, though it was often hard to tell which were true and which were false. 

“Which story did you tell him?” Dany asked with a smile. 

“No stories, m’lady, the little lord doesn’t seem to want any.” 

“Mayhaps I can cheer him,” Dany shrugged. 

“Mayhaps,” Nan said and sucked her gums. “Mayhaps not. Some folk don’ want to be cheered, m’lady.” 

Dany knew that well enough. She bid Old Nan a farewell and continued up the stairs. Poxy Tim had the door alongside Quent – two guards for one crippled boy. But a crippled boy who someone tried to kill . 

Bran did not know that, though. Perhaps when he was older, but for now Robb had not seen fit to scare the lad. Dany thought there was wisdom in that. 

Bran’s bed had been moved closer to the window, and he glared out of it to see Rickon running in the yard below with Shaggydog at his heels. Dany grimaced, thinking of all the times she had watched the Stark children play when she could only watch. It was not a good feeling. 

She sat beside him and put the tile board down on the bed, setting the cloth sack of tiles between them. 

“Shall I set it up today, or do you want to?” 

“I do not wish to play tiles,” Bran said peevishly. 

“What would you like to do then?” 

“Play at swords.” 

Dany gave him a cross look. “And how do you plan on doing that, my lord?” 

Bran returned her cross look with a dark one, and for a moment looked so much like Lady Catelyn that it chilled her for a moment. “I can’t play swords, can I?” 

Dany shrugged. “I had come to the same conclusion. And so, tiles.” 

She gestured to the board. Bran looked away in anger. 

“You sent Old Nan away as well?” Dany asked. “Just for trying to tell you stories?” 

“I hate her stupid stories.” 

“You love her stupid stories.” 

Bran huffed again. “I want to run and play and be a knight. It is not fair.” 

Dany sighed. Sometimes she had to remind herself that the lesson she and Jon both had learned from such a young age was something the Stark children would learn much later, or maybe never learn: life is not fair. 

There were things Dany wanted. So many things. She wanted a family around her that bore her same name. She wanted the chance to be anything she wanted to be. And more than anything she wanted to live in that cottage from the White Knife with Jon like she had seen in her dream. 

Perhaps at a bare minimum, I would like to not be stabbed in the gut, Dany reflected. 

“So, your life is over then?” Dany asked pointedly. “Should I send for Hodor to go ahead and carry you down to your crypt beneath Winterfell?”

Bran looked at her angrily. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“What? I thought you couldn’t be a knight. And there isn’t possibly anything else you could do with your life, so we may as well bring you down there. Come, I could probably carry you myself.” 

Dany moved to grab at him, and ran her fingers tickling against his sides as she pretended she was going to pick him up. “Stop it!” He said, still cross, but before long was laughing and giggling, and wrestling against her with his arms as Dany hoisted him over a shoulder, making as if to carry him down the stairs. Finally, after a few more minutes of squirming and play, Dany put him back down in his bed. 

“I know it is not fair, Bran. But there is a lot you could do with this life. For a start, you could play some tiles with me.” 

Bran seemed to subside, not quite accepting what she was saying but not quite denying it either. 

“Fine,” Bran said with a slight smirk. “You set them up this time.”

But before Dany could get one tile out from the cloth sack, the door to Bran’s room banged open. Hodor, the big simple-minded stableboy, came in with Maester Luwin in tow. Hodor beamed at everyone and no one. “Hodor,” he said, as was his custom. 

Dany reached a hand up to squeeze Hodor’s. “Hodor,” she returned to him. He smiled even wider and his face went red. She did not know what Hodor meant anymore than anyone else did, but it pleased him when she said it back. And Hodor was a good and gentle man, simple-minded as he was. 

“We have visitors,” Luwin announced, “and your presence is required, Bran.”

“I’m playing tiles now,” Bran said, huffy as if he hadn’t tried to avoid the game a few moments ago. 

“Go with the maester, Bran,” Dany said, giving him a stern look. “Don’t you want to see who it is?” 

“Who is it?” Bran asked, looking at Luwin. 

“Tyrion Lannister, and some men of the Night’s Watch, with word from your brother Jon on the Wall. Robb is meeting with them now. Hodor, will you help Bran down to the hall?” 

Dany’s chest felt like warm water was running through it, like the walls of Winterfell. Jon! She wanted to shout. Without asking permission, Dany left the room and headed down the stairs, not quite knowing what she was doing. She found herself holding the skirts of her Septon’s gown up as she raced through the snow across Winterfell’s yard. Behind her, Hodor carried Bran as Luwin trailed behind. She remembered herself suddenly and waited for them to catch up. 

“My lady, Robb did not send for you, just Bran,” Luwin said awkwardly before they entered. 

“He may send me away if he wishes,” Dany said, opening the doors to the Great Hall as the simply stableboy, crippled lordling, and small maester followed behind her. 

Dany knew at once that Robb had given his guests a most impolite welcome. 

A line of Winterfell guards stood behind the high seat, as did the new captain of the household guard, Hallis Mollen. Theon Greyjoy also stood behind Robb, looking pleased with himself. Robb himself was dressed in bloody ringmail and had a sword across his lap – a threat almost as unsubtle as a knife thrust through someone’s gut. 

Lord Eddard was going to be facing Lannisters in King’s Landing as the Hand, Lady Catelyn would be trying to winkle the truth out of whether they tried to kill Bran in her travels. And now Robb thought he was having his own bout with a Lannister – but that Lannister was the Imp, the dwarf. He was kind to me . 

She walked forward with the others trailing behind her. 

“Any man of the Night’s Watch is welcome here at Winterfell for as long as he wishes to stay,” Robb said in that lordly voice he liked to affect. 

“Any man of the Night’s Watch,” The Imp repeated, “but not me, do I take your meaning, boy?” 

Oh gods be good, here we go. 

Robb stood, pointing his sword in Tyrion Lannister’s direction. If the gesture had any affect on the dwarf, he made no outward expression of it. His ugly face remained in the same bemused expression it had when Dany walked in. 

“I am the lord here while my mother and father are away, Lannister” Robb said, sounding younger than fifteen. “I am not your boy.” 

Not only did Robb sound like a little kid, he had inadvertently revealed Lady Catelyn’s absence, something he surely was not meant to do. 

“If you are a lord, you might learn a lord’s courtesy,” Tyrion said. “Your bastard brother has all your father’s graces, it would seem.” 

“ Jon, ” Dany said suddenly, and Tyrion and Robb turned to see her standing beside Hodor, Bran, and Luwin. Robb frowned at the sight of Dany. 

“Princess,” Tyrion said suddenly, and gave her a polite bow. “I did not hear you come in. I hope you are well.”

Dany curtsied in response. “And you, my lord.” 

Tyrion gave her a gentle smile and turned to Bran. “So it is true, the boy lives. I could scarce believe it. You Starks are hard to kill.” 

“You Lannisters best remember that,” Robb said. Dany shot him an irritated look, as if to try and will him into seeing that he was acting the boy without embarrassing him. “Hodor, bring my brother here.” 

As Bran sat on the high seat of the Starks, Tyrion Lannister asked a few pointed questions about Bran’s fall until Robb, once again peevishly, told the dwarf to get on with his business. At which point, Tyrion Lannister revealed he had brought designs for a special saddle that might allow Bran the ability to ride a horse again. 

“With the right horse and the right saddle, even a cripple can ride,” Tyrion Lannister finished. Dany winced, knowing that no one had yet said such a word in Bran’s presence since he awoke. 

“I am not a cripple,” Bran insisted. 

“Then I am not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it.” 

Theon laughed and Dany tried to stifle a smile. Robb caught the look and frowned again. Luwin broke the tension by asking a few more questions about the horse required for use of such a saddle as Tyrion explained the training that would be required. 

Finally, Robb asked the question that had no doubt puzzled everyone else in the hall: “Is this some kind of trap, Lannister? Why would you help Bran? What is he to you?” 

“Your brother Jon asked it of me,” Tyrion said, and Dany felt tears fill her eyes with a bright smile on her face. Yes, I’m sure Jon got along quite well with this one. “And I have a soft spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things.” Tyrion placed a hand over his heart and grinned. But as he glanced at Dany his expression grew more earnest. 

Just at that moment, the doors flew open and Rickon entered on tiny baby legs, two direwolves behind him – Summer, Shaggydog, and Grey Wind. Rickon heedlessly walked towards the end of the hall, the wolves following silently. They got a whiff of Lannister and began to growl, each of them picking it up from the first. 

“The wolves do not like your scent, Lannister,” Theon quipped. 

“Perhaps it was time I took my leave then,” Lannister quipped back, but his voice was more than uneasy. At that moment, he took a step back and Shaggydog was behind him, Summer and Grey Wind on either side. Summer snapped at him, and Tyrion reeled. Grey Wind bit at him as well and tore a piece of sleeve. 

“No! ” Dany shouted and lunged in between where Lannister stood on the ground, putting herself between the wolves and the dwarf. The wolves knew her scent and knew her. Bran and Robb were shouting from the high table as well, trying to coax the wolves away. 

" Bad wolf,” Dany said, pointing a finger sternly at Grey Wind. He snapped at her, angry at the reproach, but Dany did not fear him – Grey Wind would not hurt her. Finally, each wolf went off to their respective Stark. 

“How interesting,” Tyrion Lannister said from the ground, wiping sweat from his brow. 

Dany turned to help Lannister to his feet. “Are you well, my lord?” 

“My sleeve is torn and my breeches are unaccountably damp, but nothing was harmed save my dignity. I thank you for stopping them,” He said to Dany. Then, glancing up at Bran. “And for calling them off.” 

“The wolves…I don’t know why they did that,” Robb said, seeming nervous. 

“No doubt they mistook me for supper,” Tyrion said. “And now, I must truly be leaving. Princess Daenerys, might I have a word with your privily? I have brought a message from your brother Jon for you as well.” 

“A moment my lord,” Luwin called out, as Robb’s face looked uncertain at Tyrion requesting to speak to Daenerys privately. Luwin started whispering in his ear. 

“I…I may have been hasty with you,” Robb said. Dany smiled up at him. At least he can learn. “You have done Bran a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours, Lannister, if you wish it.” 

“Spare me your false courtesies, boy,” Tyrion Lannister said. “You do not love me and you do not want me here. I saw an inn outside your walls. I’ll find a bed there and we’ll both sleep easier. For a few coppers I may even find a comely wench to warm the sheets for me,” He glanced up at Daenerys, who must have been blushing, and the dwarf looked honestly embarrassed. “My pardons, my lady, I have been too long on the road with just men about me.” 

Tyrion turned to the brothers of the Night’s Watch and told their leader when he planned to ride in the morning. 

He turned and walked from the hall, his men following. Dany gave Robb a look. “I tried,” He said, knowing clearly the reason for Dany’s reproachfulness. 

“With your leave, my lord Stark,” Dany said with grave courtesy. Robb pursed his lips and nodded at her. 

***

Dany followed Tyrion Lannister into the yard, where his men were saddling up horses. Tyrion produced a letter for her. It was sealed with black wax. 

“From Jon Snow,” Tyrion said. Dany took it, and the dwarf seemed to be watching her expression closely as she did. 

“Is…is he well, my lord?” Dany asked softly. The dwarf raised an eyebrow at that. 

“Better than he was,” Tyrion said. “He had some trouble getting on at first from what I saw – but now he seems to be doing more for his fellow recruits than Castle Black’s master-at-arms. When first I arrived the boy ate all his meals alone or with me. By the time I left, there were six or seven other boys around him at any given time. I think he will do quite well.” 

“He will,” Dany said too quickly, and the dwarf smiled. 

“He asked me to tell you to write Maester Aemon and say if you are well,” Tyrion went on. “They won’t let the boy write letters yet, but I’m sure if you asked your friend the old maester, he could let Jon know you are well. He was quite preoccupied with the subject of whether you are well.” 

Dany felt so many things at that moment. Tears were in her eyes. 

“Are you?” Tyrion asked. 

“Am I what?” 

“Well.” 

Dany pondered that. “Well enough.” 

Tyrion shrugged. “Sometimes that is as well as we can be. I bid you farewell, my lady,” 

“My lord,” Dany called out to him. “Thank you. For your kindness to Bran. And to me. I will not forget it.”

Tyrion gave her another bow. “Perhaps we might cross paths once more. It would please me if we did.” 

Dany watched him and his men ride out of the South Gate. 

Once he was gone, Dany rushed to her room and tore open the seal on the letter Jon had sent her and read with her heart in her throat. 

Dany, 

I hope you have been well. You have been much in my thoughts lately. I have met your friend Aemon. He has been kind to me during these first few weeks at Castle Black. The Wall is all it seemed to be from Old Nan’s stories. I have enjoyed my time here greatly and am proud to be on my way to taking my vows. My Uncle Benjen has rode off on a ranging, and I’m sure to go with him next time. I intend to keep the realm safe, for you and for my brothers and sisters in Winterfell. I pray for your safety, and let memories of days in the godswood with your warm me on cold nights. 

Yours, 

Jon Snow  

The terseness the letter left her longing, especially knowing Jon was going through more than he had written. No doubt he did not want her to think he was struggling in any way. He would never want to make her fear for him while they were apart. And that meant she would never know what trials he was facing. 

Will I ever get to share in his struggles again? Will I ever know him again? 

Dany did not know. Already it seemed he was slipping from her fingers.