The march north was no simple feat. The logistics required for the armies led to workers being employed along the kingsroad to repair the roads. For the Queen, it was not an issue, she flew with her dragon-children but for Jon it was a hell to move the large force north. When the sight of Winterfell's turret towers were within sight, his body ached for his bed and proper rest. Smallfolk lined the road to the castle, warily eyeing the many banners and tens of thousands of soldiers marching into their homes. If there was no threat beyond the Wall, it would seem as if Winterfell was under siege. The cold and wary stares of the smallfolks was erased when the roar of the dragons shook the earth, the cream and white one he learned was called Viserion while the green one named Rhaegal. Each named after the Queen's brothers.
As he passed the main gates, he caught sight of the awaiting welcome party, Sansa at the helm. He had to blink twice to just remember that it is Sansa not Lady Catelyn standing there. His eyes drifted to the ones beside her, widening as he saw Bran. He quickly dismounted and rushed to hug his long lost brother, kissing the younger boy on the forehead, "look at you, a man." Bran gave a small smile, but lacked the emotion of his older brother, "almost." He said, Jon smiled at that. Behind Jon, dismounted the other main members of the army. Among them were Davos Seaworth, Jorah Mormont, Aegon Blackfyre, Missandei of Narth and Grey Worm. He turned to Sansa, giving her a hug as well. She reciprocated the hug, pulling back and giving him a big smile. "Jon, where is she?" His smile faltered, before he could reply a loud roar cut through the skies as the third dragon made his presence known, the largest of the dragons named Drogon. Atop his scaled neck was the dragon queen.
Cladded in black armor, and winged helmet, she lifted her visor and patted the dragons neck. He lowered her to the ground for her to dismount. She took off the helmet, with the many lords and soldiers in the her army hailing her. She made her way to him and Sansa, "The North is beautiful, words cannot do it justice. Thank you Lady Stark for your hospitality." He sensed the tension, before he could do much Sansa spoke, "Winterfell is yours, Your Grace." The last part was added as an afterthought but the Queen did not make it known if she noticed only a smile was plastered upon her face who proceeded to turn to her forces and spoke in High Valyrian.
Later when court was held in the Great Hall of Winterfell, on one side stood the Northern lords paralleled by the Southern lords, the first glaring at the latter whom acted coolly. Jon sat at the dais, with the Queen to his right and Sansa to her side.
"Has the areas close to the Wall been evacuated?" The Queen opened court, clearly to the frustration of the northern lords. "It has been done Your Grace, only ones left is House Umber. Lord Umber please proceed forward." The young boy Jon recognized looked nervous, "we need more horses and sleds to speed up the evacuation of my people." he spoke of the issues relating to moving the smallfolk southwards. "Then you shall have the help of my Dothraki," The Queen turned to her bloodriders and spoke in the Dothraki tongue, and they nodded before standing behind the young Umber Lord. "They will help in moving your people south, and do not fret, they speak the Common Tongue." The younger lord bowed and thanked the Queen.
Another northern lord came forth, "Your Grace," but his eyes turned to Jon who internally sighed. "we made you King in the North, agreeing with sentiment to go South and request help but.." he took time to breathe as his face was reddening, "you brought a Targaryen instead and the enemies of the North to us!" The other northern lords cheered on, making their displeasure known. Jon stopped paying attention at this point as the lord continued his rant on the South and the Targaryens before a deafening roar cut across the hall.
It was the Queen again who broke the silence, "Such is the farce of a broken kingdom ruled by broken lords," she did not smile despite her jest. "Tell me, what is your name my lord?" The northern lord straightened his stance and proudly looked the queen in the eye, "Robett Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte." The Queen snorted, "what is there to be proud of my lord? House Gardener was as old and as ancient as House Stark but they perished by dragonfire nonetheless." This infuriated the northern lords. She raised her hand, standing up from her seat to address these lords akin to a mother giving her unruly children a dressing down.
"The North is a broken kingdom. Broken by wars, civil wars and now Winter is here." The northern lords were silent. "Tell me," she turned to Sansa, "how are the food reserves of the North as of this moment?" Sansa ever with her cold disposition, "barely above the minimum but I did not expect Unsullied, Dothraki, Southerners and three fully grown dragons. What do dragons even eat Your Grace?"
"Anything they wish." Came the sharp response. Turning back to the lords, "as proven by your lieges, you have barely enough food to sustain yourselves, you need the South more than the South needs the North. I bring with me not just soldiers and lords but food from the golden fields of the Reach, warriors from as far as Dorne and Essos and a constant flow of supplies coming North paid with Southern gold." This had the intended effect to silence the disgruntled nobility while their southern counterparts looked on in pride at their chosen Queen.
"I could easily return south, with everything I have brought and establish defense at the Twins since Lord Snow here has mentioned that our great enemy cannot swim." She continued, "I could leave this broken kingdom filled with prideful broken lords to the hands and grip of Death and take my dragonglass, one of the only weapons that can kill our foe, back South. But I will not. I was crowned as Protector of the Realm and I will protect the Realm from this undead threat. Do not mistake my sex as a weakness, for I have the body of a Queen but I have the heart and stomach of a King."
Lyanna Mormont stood, "we could just take our men back to our keeps and leave this to to you and your men, it matters little to us all." In the distance Jon saw Jorah Mormont shake his head.
"Do it. I dare you to do so. When we have won, when we have killed our enemies, I will show you the fate of House Gardener and Harren the Black and make your keeps the children of Harrenhal. Abandon your liege lords, abandon your sovereign Queen and I will make you wish you died in the cold and not by my hands."
"No Andal has conquered the North, you will not beat their fa-." Another deafening roar cut across the hall.
The Queen gave a feral smirk, "I do not come to conquer, I come to break this already broken kingdom. I will burn your keeps, blockade your ports and burn any ships trading with you. I will let loose my Dothraki upon your smallfolk, razing your precious farms and fishing villages burning the North from the New Gift to Moat Cailin. When your people are broken, starving, freezing they will give whatever remains of your ancient houses to me upon a plater of ashes and corpses, only then will I descend as the Protector of the Realm, as the Shield of the People and save whatever remains of your dead kingdom." She was surprised that her voice did not break or she was still composed but she smiled nonetheless.
"So, be loyal, or die knowing you doomed your peoples to death by ice and fire." A third roar by her children sounded as she sat back down.
"They can live in my new world or die in their old one.."
YOU ARE READING
Fire and Blood
FanfictionWhat happens if Daenerys actually took lessons from Targaryen history? What if the Daenerys that died in the finale was given a second chance, a chance to begin anew? Her reign has just begun.
