snow and stars| jon snow

x: dead songbirds

Jon looked at the food on the table. There was all types of colors, colors that he had never seen in the North. But at the foot of the table, in the last empty chair, sat a bowl full of porridge. It was comfort food, food of the North. He looked at her from across the table as she watched him sit, sitting at the head of the table in a chair that was slightly higher than the rest. "Food from the North," He said, slowly picking up his spoon.

"You grew up as a Stark of Winterfell, I supposed you would like comfort food. That is the least I can do for you here, King Jon." She responded, while eating her own food. It was a Dornish fruit that she was gracefully picking at, her own version of comfort food. "I can assume it's rather cold now." She mumbled.

His brows raised. "I thank you for your hospitality, My Lady."

The rest of the meal went smoothly, mostly with Jon watching as the rest of them talked across the table, watching the dark haired woman who declared herself Queen eat and drink. He thought she was gorgeous. The power radiated off of her, as did her strength. Her eyes were cruel and kind, the sort of eyes that could tell you which version of her you would get in that instant. Her brows were thick and black, her lashes long. Her lips looked soft and sweet, not unlike her voice. If only she sang, Jon thought to himself, it may be the sweetest song in the world.

He barely noticed everyone else standing and excusing themselves after they finished their meals, and he had barely touched his own. Soon, it was only Ramona and Tyrion left, Tyrion lingering to walk his King back to his guest chamber or discuss politics, and Ramona was always on standby for her Queen.

"Ramona, Lord Tyrion." The young star said, her eyes bouncing to them before they landed on Jon. "I would like to speak to the King of Westeros in private."

Ramona nodded her head, and Jon noticed that the two certainly did not act like queen and hand. Tyrion, on the other hand, looked to Jon skeptically, worried for him. He was more scared of Jon offending the young woman rather than her randomly lashing out. Jon raised his brows slightly and tilted his head to the door, his hand twitching for his blade.

"Jon Snow is what you were called first?" Were her first private words to him. "I have had a chance to speak privately to all but you. You haven't been walking around the castle or coming to dinner." I didn't know I was allowed out, he thought to himself.

"Yes, it is." He confirmed, trying not to look at her, for he would make a fool of himself.

"Forgive me, I am not very well immersed in Westeros's politics or history." She cracked a sweet smile. "But you are a Stark and Targaryen, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"I am," he answered simply. "I go by Targaryen, seeing that I am the last one. But I am a Stark, and I have always been. And Ned Stark was my father."

"Ned Stark." She parroted. "Eddard Stark was an honorable man, so honorable that his purity and honesty spreads even to the islands."

"Thank you, Lady Andromeda." He missed the tick in her jaw.

"And if he is your father, I can trust that you are as honorable as him."

"We are not our fathers." He automatically said, the saying deep inside of him, coming back to him after what had happened back in Kings Landing. The saying had been said to him from a number of people, all trying to plead their case about one woman.

"Some aren't." She said. "Some are their mothers." Jon smiled at her, a real smile. "But I am my father's daughter. I look like him, I speak like him, I hold myself like him. The only thing I think I inherited from my mother is the throne of Ilta and the powers that come with being Queen."