Chapter 171 — Daario's Jealousy
"And dragonglass is the most effective weapon against the White Walkers. I want to mine the dragonglass deposits beneath Dragonstone—to forge weapons and arrowheads, and prepare for the Night King's army."
"Mine dragonglass?" Daenerys Targaryen hadn't expected that to be Jon Snow's purpose.
She herself hadn't even known that Dragonstone sat atop such a resource. Then she remembered—Stannis Baratheon had ruled here for years. If anyone knew the island inside out, it would have been him.
At the same time, she recalled what Drogon had once told her: Valyrian steel and dragonglass could destroy the White Walkers.
Seeing her hesitation, Jon continued, "Yes. Only Valyrian steel, dragonglass, and dragonfire can kill them."
As he spoke, the eyes of everyone in the hall instinctively shifted toward Drogon perched on her shoulder.
They had all witnessed his power—his flames could reduce men to shattered bone in an instant. Against White Walkers, there would be no question.
Then they realized something—Jon was likely referring to ordinary dragonfire, like that of Rhaegal and Viserion.
Drogon… was on another level entirely.
And Jon, far away at the Wall, clearly had no idea just how terrifying that difference was.
When Jon mentioned dragonfire, Daenerys couldn't tell whether he was simply stating facts—or subtly asking for her dragons to aid in the defense of the Wall.
White Walkers were an unknown, unnatural threat. How could she possibly send Rhaegal and Viserion so far away? And Drogon… she would never willingly let him leave her side.
So she said nothing—letting Jon continue.
Jon went on to relay everything he had learned from Bran Stark—about White Walkers, wights, and the Night King.
As he spoke, the members of council in the hall gradually began to accept what Tyrion had once warned them about.
Creatures of ice and death.
The undead.
Not stories. Not myths.
Real.
And terrifying.
When Jon finished, Daenerys asked for the exact location of the dragonglass deposits. Once she confirmed that mining would not damage Dragonstone itself, she gave her answer—
She agreed.
Jon was caught completely off guard.
He had expected resistance. Debate. Negotiation.
Instead, the young queen had accepted without hesitation.
The truth was, Daenerys had already been warned—by Tyrion, and by Drogon himself—about the threat beyond the Wall. She understood that this was not a war of thrones, but a war for survival.
And… there was another reason.
She found Jon… unexpectedly agreeable.
If not for that, she might have made things a little more difficult for the stiff, overly serious Lord Commander.
The others in the hall were just as surprised—but when they thought back to Tyrion's earlier strategy, it made sense.
One of the reasons for delaying the assault on King's Landing had always been the threat from beyond the Wall.
Supporting Jon aligned perfectly with that logic.
But not everyone saw it that way.
Standing among them, Daario Naharis narrowed his eyes slightly.
Something about the way Daenerys looked at Jon…
felt off.
Too soft.
Too attentive.
It made him wonder—
Had she taken a liking to this young, brooding Northerner?
Daario had made his feelings clear more than once, only to be gently turned away each time. He had assumed she simply had no interest in men.
But now?
Now he wasn't so sure.
For the first time, doubt crept into him.
Was it him… or was it Jon?
He decided then and there—he would watch closely.
Very closely.
Just as Jon was about to leave, he hesitated.
He wanted to bring it up again—dragonfire. If Daenerys would send even one dragon north, it could turn the tide. It would save lives—his brothers' lives.
But when he looked up—
and saw her gently stroking Drogon, the two of them sharing a quiet, wordless closeness—
He stopped himself.
The words never left his mouth.
As Daenerys stepped down from the dais, Shireen suddenly ran forward, throwing herself into Davos Seaworth's arms.
He held her tightly, eyes misting over.
He had watched her grow up.
After losing his own son, he had come to see her as his daughter in all but name.
When he sent her away from Dragonstone, he had worried constantly.
A young girl, alone, sent across the sea to a foreign land—
Had he made the right decision?
Even now, he wasn't sure.
When he had asked her who arranged her journey to Slaver's Bay, she had never answered—only told him not to worry, that the person could be trusted.
After witnessing her uncle burned alive, Davos had known—
There had been no other choice.
He had to send her away.
Even if it meant never knowing whether he had saved her…
or simply delayed the inevitable.
To his surprise, he was reunited with Shireen so soon—and back at Dragonstone, of all places. More importantly, he quickly understood why she was allowed into the great hall.
Queen Daenerys Targaryen clearly trusted and valued Shireen deeply—enough to let a young girl participate in matters of governance.
Davos couldn't precisely measure Shireen's administrative skill, but he knew her habits well. She had loved books since childhood, and her father, Stannis Baratheon, had always indulged that passion. After she taught Davos to read, they had even gone through official correspondence together. She had offered insights and suggestions that impressed him at the time—clear, thoughtful, and beyond her years.
So now, seeing her involved in governance, Davos felt only astonishment at the level of trust Daenerys placed in her—not doubt about her capability.
While Shireen clung tightly to Davos in a heartfelt embrace, Tyrion approached Jon Snow.
"You're a little late," Tyrion said casually. "If you'd arrived yesterday, you could've seen Robb Stark and his mother, Catelyn Stark."
Jon stopped in his tracks, startled. "Robb… they've been freed?"
Tyrion gave a faint smile instead of answering directly. "With the queen arriving at Dragonstone with a hundred thousand troops and three dragons, how long do you think the Lannisters and Freys could keep up their siege of Riverrun?"
Jon fell silent.
He had never paid much attention to the intricate power struggles of the Seven Kingdoms. His mind—and his strength—had always been devoted to one thing: defending the Wall.
Even knowing Robb had been trapped at Riverrun, there had been nothing he could do.
The Night's Watch had to remain neutral. And with the threat beyond the Wall growing ever closer, he couldn't have led his brothers south even if he wanted to.
So he had done the only thing he could—watch and wait, hoping for news.
Now, hearing that Robb was safe—and had even sworn allegiance to Daenerys—Jon felt a surge of relief.
There was regret, too.
He had missed seeing his brother.
And as for Catelyn…
He wasn't sure he even wanted to face her.
After a moment's hesitation, Jon voiced what had been weighing on his mind:
He wanted Daenerys to send a dragon to help defend the Wall.
Tyrion didn't look surprised.
He had already seen it in Jon's eyes.
Not just dragons.
Jon wanted soldiers too.
It reminded Tyrion of their earlier conversations at the Wall, back when Jon was still green and untested.
So he spoke carefully.
"You know as much about the White Walkers as anyone alive," Tyrion said. "And yet—even the Children of the Forest don't know how to kill the Night King."
"They raise the dead. Do you really understand what you're facing?"
Tyrion had always been well-read, especially in matters of the strange and the ancient. He didn't believe creatures that had survived for thousands of years would be so easily defeated.
Jon frowned, deep in thought.
Tyrion continued, pressing the point.
"Even if the queen lends you a dragon—can you command it?"
"And if something happens to it at the Wall… how would you answer for that?"
Jon had no reply.
"I know you've sent ravens to every lord in the realm," Tyrion went on. "Begging for help. And almost no one came—except Stannis."
He paused, then added quietly:
"Do you expect the queen to send her army as well?"
"And if she does—who commands the Wall? You? Or Stannis?"
That question struck home.
Jon wasn't foolish—just inexperienced in politics.
With Tyrion's guidance, the reality became clear.
If Daenerys came north with her full strength, the chain of command would fracture. Authority would be contested. Chaos would follow.
And in the face of the dead, chaos meant annihilation.
Slowly, Jon exhaled.
The idea of borrowing dragons—or troops—faded from his mind.
There was only one thing left to do.
Mine the dragonglass.
Prepare.
And fight with what they had.
For now—that would have to be enough.