Chapter Text
“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.”
DAENERYS
They're flying. She knows it even before she's fully awake. It's the familiar feeling of weightlessness, the soothing sound of the wind passing by the windows, mixed with soft voices around her, talking gentle words that she understands only when sleep slowly loosens its grasp.
"We're almost there," Daario says.
"Just a few more minutes," comes the muffled reply.
Jon's chest vibrates against her head as he speaks. She nuzzles closer, let's herself get enveloped in his warmth, his scent, which she so desperately missed.
Just for a few more minutes.
At the driver's seat Daario puffs out some air. "I wonder if it's for her or yourself you want to stretch this."
"As it seems," Tyrion comments, "this hardly makes a difference."
How true, but unnecessary at the same time. It won't be the last chance they get to be this close, at least she hopes. Because she has made her decision, or better changed it. How could she not?
She cannot leave him, even if it might be more reasonable to do so. Still she can't. Down there in the basement, willing to risk everything for her, she saw it in Jon's gaze, her own feelings reflected, her affection, everything that matters. It's where she belongs, it's where they both belong, she and their little girl, by his side.
That's why she gave Daario the blaster when they escaped from prison, but reached for Jon's hand.
It was a bold decision to just run. Still somehow they've managed to get past the main gate. Many shots had been fired. Jaime's voice, his commands to stop them, still echoes through her mind. Out of question that this is not the end of it. It's only a matter of time before they catch up with them. But for now, they've made it.
A finger strokes over her face; his touch so gentle compared to his rough skin.
Dany sighs, while Daario emits a chuckle that lacks any sign of amusement. "You're wasting your time. I know it's easy to fall for her, but it doesn't make a difference."
Jon shifts beside her. "What do you mean?"
"She's in love with someone else."
"Did she tell you that?"
"Didn't have to." Even with her eyes still closed she can picture his sneer. "I saw it in her look as she talked about him. Some guy she met at Dragonstone about a year ago." He pauses, then adds, "the father of her child."
She freezes immediately at his words and so does Jon. His body goes rigid, his hand stops in motion right at her temple.
"You're sure about this?" Even Tyrion's voice sounds completely surprised.
Dany slowly opens her eyes and finds Daario's gaze in the rearview mirror. But it's not directed at her. "You've ever been to Dragonstone?"
He takes a second before he answers. "Aye," Jon breaths, his voice shaking, "about… about a year ago."
Then, for a few more heartbeats, nobody dares to talk.
"Well," Daario says, breaking the silence before he darts his eyes back up front. "Congratulations, I guess." He doesn't sound like he means it.
Dany knows she has to face him now. Still, she hesitates before she straightens up. Slowly, she pulls away from his embrace and lifts her gaze. As she finds Jon's, he looks at her as if he's seeing her for the first time, full of wonder and confusion. “Is… is this true?”
She nods, unsure about what words will come out of her mouth if she opens it. An apology is due. Still, instead, she just takes his hand and slides it under her sweater over the small swelling of her womb.
When he feels it, his eyes widen, flitting back and forth between her and his fingers until they rest on her face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
“I tried. But we got interrupted as... I'm so sorry. Are, are you angry?” she asks uncertainly, almost shy.
There, his expression softens. “Of course not,” he breathes.
The corners of her mouth curl upward without her having a chance to prevent it, relieved by his words. “I think it’s a girl.”
“A daughter… our daughter,” Jon sighs, as if he can hardly believe his own saying.
When he pulls her close to kiss her, his hand remains on her belly. And it stays there, even when he detaches himself. His other arm is wrapped tightly around her, as if he's afraid she'll slip away if he lets go, his lips pressed against her hair. His gaze, however, is directed out of the window. She sees it in the reflection, as if his thoughts are a million miles away.
It makes her eager to finally take away his fear. But it will have to wait a little longer. Soon , she tells herself and leans into his touch instead.
Fog forms around them as soon as Daario steers down the car, a sign that the sea is not far away. Lights flare up behind them, seeking their way through the dense clouds. They all turn their heads backwards.
“Looks like we’re getting some company,” Tyrion points out. Means, it's going to be a quick goodbye.
Apparently, Dany's not the only one who thinks so.
They park the car on top of a hill in front of the coast. A narrow path leads down to the water. Two ships are docked there, a group of people in front of them, looking like some black lines drawn into the sand. More refugees, she suspects.
Without much ado, Daario slams the driver's door shut and walks right up to Jon, pressing the key into his hand. “If I were you, I wouldn't go back to Castle Black. Lay low for a while, if you can.”
Jon agrees, “I have to pick someone up, then we'll go to Winterfell.”
“Good,” Daario replies. It seems to be all he’s left to say. Then he turns at her and Tyrion. “Come on, let's get out of this shithole… while we still can.”
His boot is on the stairs leading down to the shore when Dany stops him. “I’m not coming with you.”
He spins around. “What?”
She hates to do this to him after all he's risked to protect her. But she's made her decision. “I’m staying.” Then she turns to Jon. “I’m staying with you,” she repeats.
But to her surprise, it's no joy that shows up on his face. If her words caused anything at all in him, it’s only more despair. So he shakes his head, barely noticeable and it’s her now, afraid and trembling, as he slowly approaches. “You have to get on that ship, Dany.”
“I… I don’t understand.” Isn't this what he wanted? “And what about you?”
“I’m staying here, making sure the ship gets savely away.”
"You… what? No!” She blinks, looks at him in confusion. She tries to find some deeper meaning in this, except that it's again a stupid, heroic way to sacrifice himself for others. But not this time, not now. “Jon, you can’t do that.”
“I have to. Listen...” He reaches out for her hand. “Do you have any idea what you’d look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we both end up dead before the end of the night.”
The lump in her throat grows, getting harder to suppress with every passing second. “You’re saying this only to make me go.”
“I’m saying this because it’s true,” Jon insists. “If the ship leaves the coast and you’re not on it, you will regret it. Maybe not today, if we make it to Winterfell in one piece. And maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life. This is no place to raise our child.”
Tears roll down her cheeks as she finally understands. And his grey eyes, too, shine wet as he crosses the last bit of space between them. “What about us?” she sniffs.
“It's not just us anymore. You have to protect her.” He cups her face in his hands and wipes away the tears with the tip of his thumb. “I love you, Dany, believe me. More than anything in this world. Now…” He sighs, stops and waits.
“...and for a thousand years,” she finishes, like she used to do back then.
He tilts his head and a sad smile plays on his lips. His next words are only a whisper. “We’d be pretty old.”
At that her heart almost breaks. Because there she realises how desperately she wants the chance to see that happen. Growing old together, raising their daughter, together . This cannot be their end. They’re meant for each other. With a heavy sob, she throws her arms around him, her face pressed in the crook of his neck. He returns the embrace just as tightly. She feels his tears dampen her hair and how his body trembles as he tries to pull himself together.
Their kiss tastes of salt and grief; regret and longing dominates every touch.
“You have to go,” Jon breathes against her lips. Then he carefully pushes her away. “Now.”
She can only shake her head. Her vision is blurred; it’s like her heart gets ripping apart in her chest as Daario grabs her elbow, finally tearing her away, dragging her along. She keeps looking back and tries to make out his frame, even when they're almost at the sea and Jon's figure has disappeared behind the hills.
This can't be it.
“Give me the coins,” Daario demands.
She hands them over without lifting her eyes. Meanwhile an emptiness spreads inside her, just as frightening as all those deaths she was forced to face. It takes her back to that moment in the ice when she first realised her feelings. Sitting in Drogon's cockpit, watching Jon collapse under the weight of all those attacking robots. She thought he was dead. She thought she had lost him, like one of her dragons only moments before. But he came back. And so did she. And they had found each other, again and again.
No matter what happened between them, this cannot be their end.
“It’s better this way,” Tyrion tells her in a soothing voice.
She does not respond, but Daario does. “Oh really? Like when you made sure I stayed in Meereen? Or when you told her not to attack the capital when she still had all her dragons and her army, or when–”
“I always had the best intentions.”
“Yeah, sure. Too bad, I don't give a crap about your intentions if this is where it leaves us.”
Dany ignores their fight, as they get in line with the other people at one of the ships. The sail carries the Titan of Braavos, a white figure on black ground. Two days ago, this sight would have brought her hope and a sense of freedom. Now it holds nothing but the promise of a bitter end.
The air around them is filled with the low murmur of voices. They're all huddled close together, trying to protect themselves from the cold. Hardly anyone has a lamp with them, they all cling to each other and their few belongings.
Her eyes then catch the sight of a little girl a few steps ahead. Her hands are wrapped tightly around those of a man, presumably her father. She wears nothing but a thin dress, her fancy shoes, probably once shiny, are now covered with mud and dust. She’s shaking.
Dany reaches inside her pocket and pulls out the cap. It's Jon's and probably the only thing she has left of him. Still, she leans down, wipes the tears off her cheeks and taps the girl on the shoulder. Big blue eyes stare up at her in surprise. “Here,” she tries to smile, “so you won't be so cold.”
The girl looks from Daenerys to her father, who only nods in encouragement. Then she takes it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She is about to turn away when a small hand grabs a strand of her hair.
“It's pretty. What color is it?”
“Silver,” Dany tells her in an unsteady voice. “It runs in my family.”
“I have my mom's hair too,” the girl says, showing her own red braid that slightly peeks out from the much too large cap.
Daenerys looks up, inspecting the father's blond mop of hair. He shakes his head in a heavy, sad manner. It tells her all she needs to know. It’s just the two of us. Something she herself will probably soon be saying, whenever someone asks her about the father of her child. And so the tears come back again, the urge to turn around and run back into his arms.
The apology, too, is on her tongue as a shining spotlight passes over the beach. More than one, she realizes as she shifts her gaze up at the sky. Four to be exact. And they all grow smaller as they disappear behind the hill.
Jaime .
Just thinking his name lets a cold fear run down her spine. But she gets no chance to react on it. Daario takes her hand and pulls her forward.
The peoples' glances follow them as they hurry past. The hold around her wrist is tight, Daario's eyes determined, but her gaze keeps darting over her shoulder, up to the hill. Tyrion has a similar reaction.
At the end of the line, the captain is waiting. But before he can ask them anything, before he can say anything, Daario presses the coins into his hand. “Valar Mor–”
Then the first shot is fired. And panic erupts around them.
None of them can see what’s exactly going on, but the sounds are unmistakable, promising the worst. And it shows on all their faces: despair, fear, hopelessness. They are trapped, with only the water in front of them and the captains fleeing back to their ships, behind them the battle and the promise of death by the gold cloaks.
Because no one knows it's only one they’re after. Her.
Dany closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She forces the voices to fade into the background until only the sound of the sea fills her ears. What should I do? The wind blows around her face, making her cheeks burn as if she were high up in the sky. And if she could, she would do exactly that. Just as she did back then in Meereen, as the Sons of the Harpy attacked her in the fighting pits.
If she escapes, the fight would be over, no innocents would have to die. But she cannot escape. Like all the others she can only try to save herself on one of the ships and hide there, hoping that no one will discover her until they set sail. Jon will then be long dead.
And is that what she'll tell their daughter when she’s old enough? That her father died trying to protect them? When she could have saved him? When she could have saved so many? Once she was called the Breaker of Chains, but does she even deserve that name?
Does she deserve any of the names she once claimed for herself? She has no more dragons, no khalasar, she’s no longer a queen nor could she protect the realm as she’d promised. So who is she?
You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn , Missandei's words run through her head.
That she still is. She was born in the darkest hour her house had ever seen and yet she had managed to survive, to fight, to carry on. Many powerful men she had seen come and go, but she… she is still here, isn't she?
The Unburnt.
As she opens her eyes, a strange calmness takes hold of her. It's a familiar feeling, yet something from so long ago that it comes across like a stranger. Still she welcomes it like an old friend. And slowly, she reaches down and releases Daario's hand from her arm.
His eyes snap back at her and he’s clenching his jaw, as he finds her gaze. If he didn't sense her intention before, he sees it now plain in her expression. “You can't be serious.”
But she is.
No more dragging, no more advice, no more men telling her what to do and what not to do, what's best for her. Never before has that helped her. It has never helped her reach her destination. Only when she had faith... in herself. “Give me the blaster,” she commands.
“This means your death,” Daario warns her.
So she raises her voice. “What kind of queen am I if I’m not willing to risk my life for my people?”
In an instant, all conversations around them fall silent. From the corner of her eye, she sees a narrow smile spread across Tyrion's face. She ignores it, but keeps going. It’s not his comprehension she’s seeking. “Isn't that why you followed me?” She lifts her chin. “Isn't this why you chose me?”
He dares not to say anything back.
“All those before us have left the world worse than they found it. We’re not going to do that. We’re going to leave the world better than we found it.” Dany looks back at the little girl, standing a few feet away together with her father, watching her with awe. “A better place for us and our children,” she adds and then finally rests her eyes on her former hand. “We haven't achieved that yet.”
As she turns in circles, she finds many stare at her in wonder. Not only the two men in front of her. And she tries her best to return every single look. Because there’s hope in all those eyes, weak but there. And maybe Jon was right, maybe it will take them some time before they see her for who she is, but it does no one any good just waiting for that to happen.
Maybe she’s not the queen they chose, but the queen they need.
Though right now, Jon needs her the most.
Daario gives her a small sigh, before he reaches inside his jacket and then hands her the blaster. “I once told you that I only have two talents in this world, war and women… So even if you no longer have a use for one of them,” he says bitterly, “let me once again offer the other.”
Instead of answering, she goes up on her toes and hugs him tightly. She knows she would have tried on her own. But still she’s more than relieved to have him still by her side. When she releases him, she puts her hand over his and briefly strokes his skin. “It is my honor to accept it.”
“I should say so,” he replies with a small grin.
“Well,” adds Tyrion then, straightening up with a firm expression. “I can't say I've been particularly successful in either area. But I can still tender my service. And the promise to die rather than disappoint you again.”
It's not the second chance she gives him; by now she can't say exactly how many he already had. But like in his cell, his eyes hold the woeful plea for forgiveness. So she nods.
And without another word, she turns on her heel and heads back up the hill.
As they reach the last set of stairs, she can finally understand what's being said at the top. It’s Jaime’s voice speaking. “I suppose you know this isn’t going to be very pleasant for either of us, Snow, but especially for you. I’ll have to arrest you of course… unless I shoot you again.”
She can't see him yet, only the roof of the car that he has apparently moved in front of the path to block access. But the strain in Jon's voice is unmistakable. “As soon as the ship goes, Commander. But not a second earlier.”
Then she spots him, sitting on the ground, his head put back, his eyes closed. Longclaw is lying by his side, a hand clasped around the bicep of his left arm. His fingers are covered with blood. But as soon as he senses a shift in the air, his eyes fly open and then widen in shock as they meet hers.
“No.” It’s no more than a breath.
She crawls over to him in a hurry and presses her lips to his to stop his next words from spilling out of his mouth. But although he returns her kiss, he doesn't seem the least bit happy to see her again.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses as soon as she moves back.
“I couldn’t leave, not like this.”
He tries to keep his voice low, yet she hears his anger perfectly clear in her ear. His anger and his fear. “Of course you can. You walk back down there and get on that damn ship.”
"I can't and you know that."
His eyes flit from left to right over her face in search of a solution. Then back at the car as if he can look through the metal straight at their enemies. “Please Dany, don't…" he whispers and tries to get up but his face twists in pain as he puts too much pressure on his injured arm. She should have guessed he wouldn’t accept this without an argument. "Don't make this anymore difficult. Just… just leave!"
“And then what?” she snaps back, as quietly as possible, holding his gaze. “Hide there and watch you die?” To emphasise her point she looks down at his sleeve.
Jon ignores it. “Doesn’t matter," he grits through his teeth. "I did the same thing, didn't I? I let you go, now you let me stay. Call it payback if you will.”
She shakes her head, ready to counter him, when they suddenly get interrupted.
“Well.” Jaime's voice rings in her ear, much closer than she would like. “As sweet as this reunion may be, unfortunately, you two are not as subtle as you think.” He makes a pause, and it takes all of Dany's willpower not to peek through the window of the car and check what's going on. He sounds even louder as he goes on. “Miss Targaryen I ask you once to step forward and I give my word that like this no further harm is done.”
Instead of doing as he wishes, she pulls back the shaft of the blaster and braces herself. Because now she can prove that she really is who she still claims to be.
But Jon stops her. He grabs her arm, pulling her further down towards him. His blood leaves a red stain on her jacket, his eyes revealing his true desperation. “Please Dany, please just leave, I beg you.”
“I will not wait forever,” Jaime urges. “If you don't come out on the count of three, my men will open fire. So… One.”
Jon pleads with her one last time, "go."
“Trust me,” she tells him and strokes over his cheek. “Have faith.”
“Two.”
After another brief kiss Daenerys looks past him to find Daario’s gaze. He nods at her and takes one of his knives out of his boot. She nods back. Takes a deep breath. Tries to focus. Tries to summon up all the courage left inside her.
All through her life she has found herself in many inescapable situations. Yet she always made it. She can make it now too. They can make it. Faith is what they need. And maybe a dash of luck.
“Three.”
But before she can jump to her feet, before she can strike him down as she saw in her mind's eye, it’s Tyrion who moves first. In one swift motion he circles the car and so forces them all to stop.
A single bullet slams into the metal behind them before Jaime screams, “WAIT!”
Then, again, there's silence.
This time Dany doesn't hesitate and neither does Daario or Jon. All three of them turn around, watch the two brothers facing each other, through the windows, at the other side of the car. There’s no army behind Jaime, but still it’s obvious that they’re outnumbered. About twenty men, robots and humans alike. They all pause as their commander's raised hand forces them to halt.
The passing time stretches between them. All sorts of emotions flit across Jaime's face while from Tyrion, they can only see the back of his head. Still, he’s the one who speaks up first. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I swear, if you don’t – ” does Jaime begin, but he gets no chance to continue.
“This isn’t right and you know that.” Tyrion takes one step forward. His voice is shaking, body trembling too. “Just… just look at what she’s done.” He turns slightly, stretching his arm towards the coast. “I know you. This can't be what you want to fight for. Cersei, she – ”
“She is our queen,” Jaime asserts.
But Tyrion shakes his head. “She is not the right one. She is… she is not our sister anymore, she is no longer the woman you loved.” He pushes back his shoulders, each word of his following speech full of disgust and disappointment. “She didn't help when she was needed. She didn't help like she swore . And many died because she didn't. Brienne died because…" He pauses as his brother draws a sharp breath. "Can't you see what Cersei does to this country? She lets it starve . She is greedy for power, evil…
“This is treason!” one of the soldiers yells.
Tyrion, though, doesn't give him a glance. “She is not the queen the realm deserves… Daenerys is. You know it. You saw it.”
Green eyes dart over to her and Dany holds his gaze. Slowly, she rises to her feet, as do the men at her side. And while she does so, she tries her best to appear as resolute as possible. No sign of fear, no sign of doubt. She stands behind those words, determined now to fulfill her purpose, to break the wheel as she promised.
That is what she needs to show now.
She doesn't get a chance.
The moment she straightens up to full size, the soldier who spoke before draws his weapon. Jon pulls her behind him. Daario throws his knife. The soldier collapses. Another opens fire.
Then chaos breaks loose.
The sounds of their shots cut through the air. And once Dany starts to fight back, she no longer hears anything else. No commands. No screaming.
Her ears start ringing. Her vision tunnels. Her breath comes out in short bursts. One opponent drops after another, but she doesn't spare them a second glance. Her eyes have already moved on to another.
There’s not a shred of hesitation in her. Her only focus is to hit everyone before they hit her. Jon stands beside her, one arm stretched out, the injured one hanging down slack. His gaze is fixed up front. His finger moves in a steady rhythm, pulling the trigger.
Click. Click. Click.
Daario strikes down five more with the knives he still carries. Everything happens too fast. Every movement. Every impression. There's no time to think. Only to react. Strike. Shot. Dodge. Shot again.
And then it is over.
Almost as quickly as it started.
Tyrion flinches, slowly removing his hands from his head. Jaime remains a few steps away from them, surrounded by a pile of metal and fallen soldiers. Jon’s the first to lower his weapon. Daenerys keeps it raised, its barrel now pointed at the Commander of the Queensguard.
He finds her gaze and something lights up in his green eyes. It may be fear, or admiration, she cannot say for sure. To Dany's surprise though, Jaime bows then slightly before giving his brother a last glance and the hint of a smile. Then he turns around and gets into one of the cars. Without another word, further explanation or even a goodbye.
Her eyes follow him until the outlines and lights disappear in the mist. Swallowed by the night and the surrounding darkness. Only when he's finally gone, does she drop her hands and with them a shaky breath.
She looks over her shoulder. Jon's eyes are still fixed on the sky. Tyrion's too, one hand resting over his mouth. When she finds Daario’s look, she spots a broad grin stretching over his face, before an amused snort leaves his lips and he shakes his head.
When she releases one hand from the gun, it shakes so badly that she has to clench it into a fist to stop it. It's the shock, no question. Still it takes a few more seconds for fear and tension to fall off of her. And for her brain to process what happened, the effects still too overwhelming, the terror still too close.
She feels for her daughter without being aware of it. Her hand rests on her belly with another shuddering breath. Even if her heart still seems to explode in her chest, she tries her best to calm down, tries to recognise something unusual. A sting, a flicker, anything. But to her relief, their little girl is as peaceful as always. Everything feels like it should.
Then another hand settles over hers and she raises her eyes. “You’re okay?” Jon asks, his voice reflecting her own concern.
She nods. “I… I think so.”
From the corner of her eye Daenerys sees Daario clapping Tyrion on his back, albeit a tad too roughly. They’re both grinning now. She looks back at Jon. And there on his lips, too, she finds one of his rare, crooked little smirks. “We made it.”
She can’t help but chuckle slightly. Because it’s true. As unreal as it still seems, even with all the mess around them as proof. “Nine chances out of ten,” she cites him as she moves closer, “makes one left, right?”
“The one that mattered.”
He wraps his arm around her and presses a kiss to the top of her head as they walk back to the car. Even when she opens the trunk and takes out the first-aid kit, he doesn't let go of her. Ensuring this is still possible. That they really didn't lose each other. Only when she asks him to slip out of his jacket does he break the contact.
“So Winterfell, huh?” Daario asks while Daenerys bandages the wound.
Jon flinches as she touches the injury, then answers with a hiss, “we... have to pick up Davos, but after that... I think it's the safest place at the moment.”
“Alright then,” Daario says, pondering and tilting his head slightly. “Who’s in charge there?”
“My sister.”
“Your... really?” He stretches the word in a way that even before Dany lifts her eyes, she senses the mischief in his expression. His wide grin and Jon's frown confirm it. “So… you have a sister?”
“Two… actually,” Jon replies with his eyes narrowed.
“ Very beautiful, the both of them,” Daenerys adds and shares another smile with her friend, before she pulls Jon's sleeve back down.
They all get into the car, she and Tyrion in the back seat, Daario behind the wheel, Jon next to him. Once he's seated, she wraps her arms around the leather, rests them on his chest and he reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers. And as they start their journey, she can hardly suppress her giggles the more Daario asks about Sansa. It’s obvious to her that he’s just messing with him. And maybe Jon knows it himself and that’s why he answers the questions so precisely. Even though his grip around her hand tightens with each one of them.
When she glances over her shoulder, she sees a similarly amused expression on Tyrion’s face. Their eyes meet and they exchange a knowing look before he leans forward, his mouth close to her ear as he whispers, “this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
At that Dany can't hide her laughter even if she wants to. Loud and hearty, like she hasn't laughed in who knows how long. A sound that echoes through the night, that also makes Jon smirk too, even if he didn't hear the joke. And it feels good to have that back, her laughter, her joy. Just like many other things.
This time she knows, she will do all she can to keep them.