Game of Thrones: Frozen Fire

What Was Promised

Theon's easy smirk did not make an appearance like it used to. Perhaps this was one of those rare solemn times in which he was finally being serious.

Robb had felt so abandoned when Jon had chosen to join the Night's Watch, right when their father informed them he would be leaving to become the King's Hand. It had all led them to that moment, in which nothing was certain and no one was safe. Why had honorable decisions taken them to awful places?

Gurgling, Iagan turned his face at him, blinking slowly before he yawned, opening his mouth wide. He had to admit that there was the best outcome of everything; Iagan and Dany were the ones he had gained and was not willing to give up on them.

-o-

Next morning he was to finish settling the last arrengments before his departure to the Wall. Thinking about all the possible outcomes, about whether or not to trust Stannis now that some spoke ill about the priestess who guided him, not longer following the Faith of the Seven, Robb could hardly sleep.

He kept his eyes opened in the dark, watching as the fire dwindled down and the embers crackled quietly. Grey Wind was curled near the hearth but soon he lifted his head, just as Robb did when the door opened.

"Leave us," the soft voice called as she sneaked into the chambers, patting Grey Wind's side when she gestured for him to exit. "Go," she muttered.

Dany looked at him in the dark, and silently approached him. Her feet slid against the floor in a soft whisper. She still had not fully recovered, but as stubborn as she was, she refused to be bed-ridden for long despite Maester Luwin's apprehension and his own mother's advice.

Wordlessly she lifted the furs covering him and slid under them. He did not move and let her curl against his side. Her silk gown brushed against his skin and her fingers danced sweetly to tangle in his hair, tugging tenderly at his reddish-brown curls.

After a very long time he had gotten a proper shave, and Dany seemed to miss the coarse hair covering his jaw and cheeks, because she caressed the nude skin over and over as if trying to remember the feeling.

"Where are you sending us?" she asked, her lips kissing his shoulder as he let himself pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her and feeling the weight of her head fall gracefully on his chest. Her platinum hair was as soft as her gown.

There was no point in hiding things from her.

"Bear Island. Dacey should meet you, Ser Barristan and a few of our men on the way there. She has decided to return since... well."

He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. To the strands of her hair clung the scent of blue winter roses.

"Who are you sending to the South?" she asked without the anger he expected from her. She was not one to give up easily, much less at things like the one he had admitted. Dany did not like to be left out of the war, as if she was only a mere observer.

"My uncle Brynden should be meeting Randyll Tarly's army, and prepare to fight against the Tyrells guarding Highgarden. Prince Doran Martell sent a raven; their army will attack at the same time. We will lay siege to Highgarden and that way limit the Lannisters's territory to the Crownlands only." He spoke in the terse voice that seemed foreign to him, almost as if he were the observer, having to leave war just at the verge of conquering almost all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Dany's lips pressed ocassional kisses to his chest, the pads of her fingers traced small scars and lines of muscles as if he were a map she wanted to learn.

"Aren't you going to fight me about this decision? About me wanting to send you and Iagan away?"

She did not reply and he could imagine her pressing her lips together in a tight line, wanting to lash out at him and scream that she was not a defenseless woman who needed to be locked away. She was not Elia Martell, and she would not end up like her, slaughtered with her children by their enemies.