Jon stood on one of Widow's Watch's towers overlooking the white waves of the Bite and Shivering Sea crashing against the rocky cliffs below. Though further south than Winterfell, the sea air made it seem just as cold. Hearing Davos come up behind him, Jon glanced back and gave the older man a nod.
"Is it like this on Dragonstone?"
"Warmer," the man said with a laugh, bundling himself in his cloak to stand beside Jon.
With a glance toward Davos, Jon asked, "How many of the kingdoms have you been to, Ser Davos?"
"What do you mean, your grace?"
"You have a land in the Stormlands, spent time on Dragonstone, in Winterfell and even at the Wall. Anywhere else? You were born in Flea Bottom, right?"
"A few shore towns in the Vale and Dorne. Mostly kept to the eastern side of Westeros. Why do you ask?"
"I'm curious if you'll be happy retiring to the Stormlands or if you'd prefer someplace else. There's plenty of ruined keeps that will be empty once things have settled, and I'd prefer one in your hands than left to neighboring lords."
Davos stared at Jon for a moment. "I don't know what to say, your grace."
Jon seemed pleased with that, turning to him. "I'd prefer you say you'd like to return to King's Landing, but I wouldn't ask you to give up the chance for peace just to burden you with being my hand, no matter how much I may wish it. I doubt you'd abandon me with so much at stake, but once the Night King is gone and we've dealt with Cersei I'll likely be forced to spend my days at King's Landing.
"You've already given me so much of your council. I don't want to presume that you'd stay on, but I'll do what I can to make sure not only do you know how much I appreciate it, but to make sure you gain the recognition you deserve for it. I'd offer to name you Warden or Lord Paramount of a realm, but I'm afraid that would upset too many others, so I'd ask you accept instead an empty keep or a new one wherever you think you'd like to spend your time."
Davos looked down, taking a breath to steady himself and fight the knot in his throat. Looking to Jon he smiled. "I'll have to think on it, your grace."
"Something to keep in mind," Jon nodded. With a glance toward the sea he asked, "How long should we wait before leaving?"
"A week," Davos answered. "Even a poor captain should be able to get them here by then."
It seemed their captain wasn't poor as they were told Targaryen sails had been spotted the next day. Jon had wanted to ride to the shore and greet them, but Davos and Melisandre convinced him not to.
"She'll seek to challenge your place as king," said Melisandre. "I know you think it petty, but it should help remind her you're not beneath her."
Davos groused. "She has the right of it. I'll take some men to escort her. I'd suggest you take the lord's seat in the great hall and wait for our return. You've been king barely months now while she's been a queen of some sort since she was sold to the Dothraki. There's a chance she'll try to dismiss you even with the copies the maester made us."
With a sigh, Jon nodded, patting Davos' shoulder. "I'll await your return."
Davos stood beside Willam and the others watching the boat carrying the landing party from the Stormborn ship. They hadn't made it to shore when Davos furrowed his brow.
"She's not there," he said quietly. "Did she not even come?"
His annoyance faded when a screeching roar came from the horizon and they turned to see three dragons cut through gray clouds, speeding toward the peninsula. He watched them pass overhead, circling while the boat landed and men hurried off. It was only then the largest of the dragons landed, most of the men backing away as it eyed them in silent warning while letting the silver haired woman atop it dismount.
Davos' gaze shifted from her to those making their way from the boat. A quartet of sour faced men wrapped in hides with arakhs on their waist hurried to the woman's side. A round faced bald man and bronze skinned women with large black hair made their way toward Davos along with a short man he knew to be Tyrion Lannister.
They came to a stop, waiting for their queen, who walked toward them while her dragon leapt into the air, joining the others in circling them. "Davos Seaworth," Davos said reaching over to shake Tyrion's hand.
"Tyrion Lannister," he said with a nod.
Davos turned to Daenerys as she reached them. "If you'd all follow me into Widow's Watch, our king awaits."
Tyrion glanced to Daenerys, shrugging in surprise at their not being asked to give up their weapons. Could mean they were dumb or they didn't care, which might have been intimidating if not for the dragons overhead.
Following close to Davos, Tyrion looked up asking, "Is it truly Jon Snow?"
Davos nodded. "The bastard of Winterfell himself."
"No bastard after all," Tyrion said with a laugh.
"And yet still raised one because of the lies of men and choices he never had," Davos said grimly.
More often than not he found himself being jovial to counter his sullen king, but he hoped that comment would endear him to the woman who would surely be prepared to diminish everything he'd been through in hopes of securing her own claim. He wasn't sure if it had worked, Daenerys keeping behind him, but the frown Tyrion wore after glancing at her made Davos hopeful.
Entering the castle they were given guest rights before being brought to the great hall. They found the tables moved, leaving only the large lord's chair opposite the doors.
Daenerys entered to find a woman with vividly red hair wearing a crimson dress stood beside the man she presumed to be Aegon Targaryen, or Jon Snow. He sat with his elbow on the arm of the chair, his hand sinking from holding his cheek to clutch it's arm as he sat up.
His face framed by pulled back dark curls with dark eyes lacking any sign of violet or purple, she wondered if he could possibly be Targaryen. Then she remembered all those who hadn't gained the traditional looks, from Duncan the Small to Aegor Bittersteel. Still, she found he looked kingly, holding himself well and handsome enough to be worthy of a portrait. Yet the only hint of his house colors were a black jerkin, gloves and boots with the rest more dark gray.
When they entered his eyes tracked them, taking in each with only a small nod to Tyrion. Settling upon Daenerys he found Sansa was right again, she was beautiful. Her black attire and red cape draped from her right shoulder added to her regal appearance as much as how she held herself. It was her silvery hair that drew his eye, curling strands of wavy hair framing her face while the rest was intricately braided. Sansa usually wore her hair in northern plaits or straight and down with smalls braids at the back which he preferred to the rare southron style he'd seen, but Daenerys' braids fit her well.
The others took to guard positions while Davos moved to his place on Jon's right, opposite Melisandre. Daenerys stood directly ahead of Jon with Tyrion on her right and Missandei on her left with Varys and the quartet of Dothraki behind her.
Seconds passed as the Targaryens stared at one another. For a moment Davos felt tense thinking they were challenging the other to speak, but then realized they likely expected to be introduced before speaking.
"Your grace, Daenerys Targaryen."
Missendei furrowed her brow, standing tall. "Before you is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khalessi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains."
Jon sat back with a nod, his eyes shifting toward Davos.
"Oh. This is Aegon Targaryen," he said simply. "Raised Jon Snow. He's King of Westeros."
Melisandre rolled her eyes, stepping forward. "Before you sits King Aegon Snowshroud of House Targaryen and Stark, the Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, the White Wolf, the Hidden Dragon, Friend of the Free Folk, the Resurrected, the Slayer of White Walkers and Wights, the Sword in the Darkness, the Prince That Was Promised."
Jon glanced at her, surprised by the abundance of titles she gave him. Had he been signing his letters incorrectly?
Daenerys seemed amused by his surprised glance. "A pleasure to meet you, my lord."
"The pleasure is mine, your grace."
"Forgive me, your grace," Davos interrupted, "but Aegon is king, not a lord."
Daenerys' jaw shifted. "Pardon my slight. It was unintentional."
"It's fine," Jon assured, waving his hand toward Davos. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting and coming. I hope the winds were kind. I'm relieved you came as quickly as you did."
"Seems you're a busy man," Tyrion said arching his brow. "Rising from bastard to king."
"I am what's needed of me," said Jon. "I needed to be a bastard so I wouldn't be murdered and I was. I needed to hide at the Wall, so I became Lord Commander. I'm needed to help prepare us for the Long Night so I've become king, as I should have been the moment I was born."
Melisandre gave him the slightest of smiles hearing him take her suggestion to stress his the fact his crown was stolen from him at birth.
"Can a Lord Commander be king?" Tyrion asked, tilting his head. "I thought brothers of the Night's Watch swore an oath to hold no crowns and the like."
Jon answered simply, "My watch is ended."
"He speaks the truth," Davos added. "Ask the new Lord Commander or any at Castle Black, they'll say the same."
"I thought their oaths were for life," noted Varys.
"A king's will surpasses the oaths of men," Melisandre said carefully. "A mask forced upon a child can swear no oaths. A man robbed of the truth cannot cast aside what he does not know he has. His oaths were a lie as much as his name, his place on the wall forced upon him the same, and yet even here as Aegon Targaryen he still acts as the shield that guard the realms of men."
When Melisandre noticed Jon look at her she found he gave her an appreciative smile before looking back to their guests.
"I find it hard to believe such a secret could be kept for so long," said Daenerys. "If the last few years are any sign of things then it would be easier to claim a bastard a king."
Jon smiled at the insult. "I've had many people think me a fool, but I would truly have to be one to want to rule kingdoms struggling from years of war. A kingdom torn apart as winter begins and the Long Night nears."
Davos looked at him, surprised he answered her insult with one of his own.
"If that's what you believe," Daenerys began, "why not abdicate?"
Jon looked at her almost pitying. "Because you need my help as much as I need yours."
Daenerys exchanged a look with Tyrion, smiling as she looked to Jon. "Did you not see three dragons flying overhead? I have armies of unstoppable Unsullied and thousands of Dothraki sworn to kill for me… and I need your help?"
"Not to defeat Cersei and take the Iron Throne," said Davos. "You could storm King's Landing and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn't even have dragons."
"Almost," repeated Tyrion.
"But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not?" Jon asked, rising to his feet and looking them over. "The only reason I can see is you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the take the throne but you won't do it. Which means, at the very least, you're better than Cersei.
"You could have come here and scorched the entire castle and ignored the claim of some man who didn't even know he was a king most of his life. You could have assumed I was lying and killed me without concern about kinslaying, but you're here. Same as I'm here because it's needed."
Daenerys shook her head. "You say you only rose from need, so step down and go live in peace."
"There is no peace," Jon snapped, meeting her dismissive gaze before he sighed. "There never will be, so long as Cersei lives and the Night King marches south."
"The Night King," Daenerys repeated with a doubtful nod. "The one who leads an army of undead men."
"And women, children, horses, bears, giants," Jon said with a nod. "Everything they've come across, everything they kill rises again as part of their army. An army that doesn't hesitate, doesn't doubt orders or need to eat or drink or sleep. We can't waste our time here squabbling about who sits on some useless throne that will be worthless if they make it past the Wall."
Daenerys met his gaze and found herself doubting it less than she had on her journey, but stepped forward, entwining her hands over her stomach. "I've spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me," she gave a small dismissive shake of her head, "I don't remember all their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I've been chained and betrayed. Raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?
"Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself," she declared. "In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me.
"I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys said as she came to a stop before Jon, shorter than him yet standing just as tall, "and I will."
"You'll be ruling over a graveyard," Jon declared somberly, "if we don't defeat the Night King."
Daenerys' lips tightened before Tyrion moved to stand beside her. "You may have the right of birth, but we both know how you were raised. Daenerys was raised knowing what she was, what she could become, and has been queen for years. Abdicate, let us unite our efforts and once Cersei is dead we can focus on… whatever you saw beyond the wall."
Jon met Daenerys' gaze as Davos stepped beside him, looking from Tyrion to Daenerys. "You don't believe him. I understand that. It sounds like nonsense. But if destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it has also raised Aegon Targaryen as the bastard Jon Snow.
"You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros? Jon Snow is the first to make allies of wildlings and northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. The North marched to Winterfell ready to make him King in the North, not because of his birthright, they all thought him a damn bastard. They support him as King of Westeros not because it's owed to him, but because he earned it. All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader… because they believe in him.
"All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things," Davos said glancing at his king. "He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own li-"
Davos quieted when Jon turned to look at him while Daenerys and Tyrion shared a glance. Jon turned to them with a sigh, having hoped this wouldn't be necessary. "We have proof. If you see my proof and still think the throne matters then you can go take it from Cersei and try to keep it once the Long Night is through."
Daenerys arched her brow, both in interest of his supposed proof as well as the clear challenge. Tyrion wore a solemn expression as Jon turned to his men and ordered, "Go get it."
Davos glanced at the men rushing off and looked to Daenerys. "I suggest you stand with your men, your grace."
She remained silent as she and Tyrion made their way back to her guards, leaving plenty of space between them again. Seconds later Willam returned, rushing to Jon's side and handing him a torch moments before the doors burst open and they saw the undead man run into the room before the rope tied around his chest pulled him back.
Missandei screamed, stepping back as the Dothraki stepped forward, their hands on their hilts as they stared wide eyed at the creature clawing at them while two men pulled on the rope, keeping it from their guests. Varys' arms fell to his side, gaping at the wight as Tyrion stood frozen in confusion at how this could exist. Daenerys stared at it, shock and fear barely noticeable in her widened eyes.
Willam rushed around the undead man, taking a breath as he waved at him, drawing his attention. When the wight turned on Willam and thrust his arms out, one of the guards unsheathed his sword and swung it down, cutting it at the elbow.
They watched as not only did the wight not stop reaching for Willam, barely noticing the cut, but his dismembered hand writhed on the floor.
The men pulled him away, letting Willam pick up the hand, holding it out to Jon who held out the torch for Davos to light by scraping flint across his dagger. "The only ways to destroy them is stabbing them with dragonglass," he said before holding the flame to the hand, "or with fire."
They watched the hand go still as the flames spread, Jon dropping it before it engulfed the hand. He handed off the torch, motioning for the men to take the wight away. "Valyrian steel works as well, but unlike the others it's rare."
"Dragonglass isn't rare?" asked Tyrion.
"Not on Dragonstone." Jon looked to them. "There is a mountain of dragonglass buried beneath the island. We intend to mine it and craft weapons we'll ship to White Harbor and distribute as much as we can."
"Dragonstone is mine," Daenerys said possessively, pulling her gaze from the wight to look at Jon.
"Your claim, my claim, they don't matter. Lannister, Stark, Targaryen, none of them matter. There is only one side that matters." She met Jon's cool gaze as he said firmly, "The living."
Seeing Daenerys exchange unsettled looks with her party, Jon rubbed his hands together. "I'm sure you'd prefer to relax in rooms that aren't rocking with the ocean. Lady Lyessa will show you to your quarters. I'd ask you think on what you've seen."
The people of King's Landing filled the streets with cheers and jeers as Euron lead his prisoners toward the Red Keep. Euron kissed at women beneath him and gave a content sigh.
"This is the life," he said from atop his horse as the crowd threw dirt and rotted food at his prisoners. "Look at them. Cheering for a Greyjoy." He reveled in their applause before yanking on the leather leash wrapped around Yara's throat.
When she stumbled forward he glanced down at her. "I have to be honest. This is making me hard." With a laugh he looked ahead. "If only Theon were here instead of Winterfell. I bet that twat spends his nights on his knees before his bastard king."
Yara glanced at him in confusion, which Euron noticed with a smirk. "Oh, you didn't know? The cockless disgrace is little more than a servant for the Starks." Euron looked ahead with a laugh. "Won't be long before he's here with us. At least I know he can handle some rough play… but what about you, niece?"
Her disgust and anger only made Euron laugh as he lead them to Cersei and gave her Ellaria before taking Yara for himself. Cersei was sure to torture Ellaria and Tyene in her own way while Euron would find others. Yara wasn't sure which would be worse.