CHAPTER 56 | THE DEAD
DOTHRAKI soldiers opened the large doors to the great throne room of Dragonstone. Maia looked above her, admiring the ancient carvings and tapestry of the castle. It was truly mesmerizing, especially the way the builders carved dragons into the ceiling, as if they were snaking up above. Maia then stared ahead of her, almost doubling over at the woman who sat before them.
Maia clutched Jon's arm quickly. Daenerys Targaryen sat in the throne of Dragonstone, waiting for them with fire in her eyes. Jon stared at her and swallowed the lump in his throat. Maia couldn't believe she was seeing the dragon queen before her eyes; a woman she had only seen on her TV screen in her world. Everything was so much more real now. With hair that glowed a bright silver and lilac eyes, she was the definition of beauty. Anyone could see that.
"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," Missandei introduced as she stood beside her queen. "Rightful heir to the Iron Throne; Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men; Protector of the Seven Kingdoms; the Mother of Dragons; Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea; the Unburnt; the Breaker of Chains."
Jon met the eyes of Davos and Maia. The blonde's eyes went wide and she shrugged. "This is Jon Snow," Davos introduced.
Daenerys waited hesitantly.
"He's King in the North," Maia added with a nod.
Daenerys' bright lilac eyes landed on Maia. "And who might you be?"
"This is Maia Sanders," Davos gestured to her with his chin. "She wrote to you."
"What do you do?"
Davos viewed at Maia, who shrugged again. "Well, she knows how to use a bow and arrow now," he said, "and she's – uh – the Traveler, I guess."
Maia's hand immediately shot out to hit Davos in the chest. He looked to her in disbelief. "You can't be telling everyone that!" She whispered loudly.
Daenerys cleared her throat, diverting the attention to herself. "Thank you for traveling so far, my lord. I hope the seas weren't too rough." She then held her hand up. "And no need to worry, my lady, for a little bird has already told me of your title, and the reputation of your supposed house."
Maia's mouth opened slightly in shock. Her brow furrowed, but she tried not to show too much of an expression. How did she know? There was only person who could've told her, and that person was sent into exile months ago.
"Winds were kind, Your Grace," Jon replied.
"Apologies," Davos interrupted, "I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know. But Jon Snow is King in the North, Your Grace, not a lord."
Dany cocked her head to the side. "Forgive me –"
"Your Grace," Tyrion added, giving her a glance. "This is Ser Davos Seaworth."
"Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did receive a formal education." Daenerys corrected herself. "But I could've sworn the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life, and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?"
"I wasn't there, Your Grace," responded Davos.
Maia held up her finger. "Actually, the last King in the North was –"
"No, of course not. But still an oath is an oath, and perpetuity means ... What does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?"
Tyrion replied, "Forever."
Maia went close to Jon's ear. "I honestly didn't know what perpetuity meant."
"Forever," Daenerys nodded, "so I assume, my lord, you're here to bend the knee."
Jon chewed on his bottom lip, taking a moment to choose his words. He then glanced to the dragon queen before them. Maia's arm still clutched his own tightly. "I am not," he finally answered.
Daenerys had to hold back her anger. She swallowed down her pride. "Oh," she smiled falsely. "Well, that is unfortunate. You've traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"
"Break faith?" questioned Jon. "Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would've burned the Seven Kingdoms –"
"My father ... was an evil man," the dragon queen interrupted. "On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family, and I ask you not to judge a daughter for the sins of her father."
Maia looked to the ceiling, wondering how in the hell this all was happening. "Fuck," she whispered. "She's got you there."
Jon elbowed Maia in the chest, causing her whole body to tremble. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach, and only Daenerys was the one who noticed this action. "Our two houses were allies for centuries," Daenerys continued, "and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms have ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity, with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne, and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together, we will save this country from those who would destroy it."
Maia bit her tongue, wishing she could answer for Jon – which was a big, fat no. Jon was finally getting his first taste of something he would so normally never have. She wouldn't let him give up his title now. Maia knew they were here for the dragonglass and that only. But if Daenerys wanted to lend them a dragon or two for the Great War ... she wouldn't turn them down.
Jon glanced to every corner of the room before replying, "You're right. You're not guilty of your father's crimes, and I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows."
"Then why are you all here?"
"Because I need your help," Jon said, "and you need mine."
Tyrion and Daenerys' stares met. "Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?"
"I did."
"And did you see the Dothraki? All of who have sworn to kill from me."
Maia then nodded. "Hard to miss, Your Grace."
"But still, I need your help."
"Not to defeat Cersei," Davos muttered. "You could storm King's Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn't even have dragons."
Tyrion's eyes narrowed as he repeated, "Almost."
"But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not?" Jon asked. "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 war, but you won't do it. Which means, that the very least, you're better than Cersei."
Daenery's lofted a brow. "Still, that doesn't explain why I need help from you lot?"
"Because right now, you, and I, and Cersei, and everyone else – we're children, playing at a game, screaming the rules aren't far."
The dragon queen's teeth grit. She turned her head slightly to Tyrion, eyes not leaving Jon. "You told me you liked this man."
"I do," Tyrion uttered.
"In the time since he's met me: he's refused to call me Queen; he's refused to bow, and now he's calling me a child."
Tyrion lifted a hand. "I believe he's calling all of us children. Figure of speech."
"Your Grace, everyone you know will die before winter's over if we don't defeat the enemy to the North!" Jon exclaimed.
Daenerys frowned. "As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the North."
Maia found her palms begin to sweat as Jon replied, "I am not your enemy. The dead are the enemy."
Daenerys stared at Jon, unamused. "The dead. Is that another figure of speech?"
Maia raised her hand, silencing Daenerys' complaint for a moment. The dragon queen's stare went narrow. "Your Grace, if I may ask, did you read my letter at all?"
"Of course, I did." She answered quickly. "I might have skimmed a few words, but you must realize that I am very –"
"Because if you had read it, you'd realize how apparent I made our issue in the North," Maia continued, not caring that she interrupted the other woman. "I told you specifically in that letter that we need your help; the North needs you. I wrote to you that the war against the dead is here, and we must all be united, because after they hit the North, they will be coming for all. Your throne will be left in ashes if we don't band together."
Jon nodded to his lady's words. "The army of the dead is on the march."
"The army of the dead?" Tyrion asked, looking like he wanted to laugh.
"You don't know me well, my lord, but do you think I'm – uh – liar? Or a madman?"
The dwarf shook his head. "No, I – I don't think you're either of those things."
"The army of the dead is real," Jon tried to persuade to Daenerys. "The White Walkers are real. The Night King is real. I've seen them. If they get past the Wall, and we're squabbling amongst ourselves –" Jon took a step forward, causing the Dothraki to point out their weapons. He backed away, saying, "We're finished."
Daenerys took in a sharp intake of air, as Maia felt the tension in it. "I was born at Dragonstone, not that I can remember it," she recounted, stepping down from the throne and towards them. "We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now, of course." She clasped her hands together again. "I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don't remember all their names. I have been sold, like a brood mare. I've been chained and betrayed, raped, and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?" She asked, to which she got no answer. "Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen.
"The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries, until my children were born," Daenerys continued, now face to face with them. Maia's grip got tighter on Jon. "The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea. Any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and I will."
Jon swallowed hard. "You'll be ruling over a grave yard, if we don't defeat the Night King."
Tyrion hesitantly stepped towards the group. "The war against my sister has already begun. You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting ... whatever you saw behind the Wall."
Maia finally unlaced her arm from Jon's. "Forgive me, my lord, but did you not take in any of what Jon Snow has said." Her stare went to Daenerys, who was glaring at her. Maia didn't care as she lifted her chin high. "You'll be ruling over a grave yard. You'll be sitting on a throne of ashes, if you aren't turned into a Wight yourself. As long as the Night King is alive, he is the only person who has an actual chance at kicking Cersei off the Iron Throne. We need to defeat them."
"You don't believe them," Davos sighed, viewing at the dragon queen. "I understand that, I do. It sounds like nonsense. But if destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it has also brought Maia Sanders to this land, which is more foreign to her than you, Your Grace. And destiny made Jon Snow King in the North."
Maia nodded with Davos. "Jon Snow was the first to make allies of Wildlings, the Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of his birth right – he has no birth right, he's a bastard, for fucks sake. All those shits chose him as their leader, because they believe in him. They believe in what he stands for; what he can do."
"All those things you don't believe in," Davos added, "he faced those things. 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 –"
Maia's hand smacked Davos' gut, and then she grinned falsely. "Stop while you're there," she said through clenched teeth.
He nodded and inhaled. "If we don't put aside our enmities and band together, we will die. And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne."
"If it doesn't matter then you might as well kneel," Tyrion began to persuade. "Swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys, help her to defeat my sister, and together our armies will protect the North."
"There's no time for that!" Jon exclaimed. "There's no time for any of this! While we stand here debating –"
"It takes no time to bend the knee. Pledge your sword to her cause."
Jon whipped his head to Tyrion. "And why would I do that?!"
Maia placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jon –"
"I mean no offense, Your Grace, but I don't know you." He continued with a heavy voice. "As far as I can tell, your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name, and my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The Lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them, and I will continue to do so, as well as I can."
"That's fair," Daenerys finally spoke up. "And while your father fought mine, your lady right here had her own house fighting with the Targaryens." Her eyes rested again on Maia. "Lauryn Sanders, the last of Lord Sanders' children, was betrothed to my brother before the war started, as my father grew more mad. Your house was small, yes, but had an army so powerful that my father would do anything for it. My brother, Rhaegar, was already married, but my evil father offered another proposal for House Sanders' army. In the end of the rebellion, they all died, including the rest of the Sanders family, but their pledge still stands. Isn't that correct, Lady Maia?"
Maia looked to her feet as Jon rolled his eyes. "You see, there lies the problem –"
"It's also fair to point out that I'm the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," the dragon queen explained on. "By declaring yourself King of the Northern-most kingdom, you are in open rebellion."
Maia swallowed the lump in her throat, but she would not cry. This woman made it hard to hide expressions though, for her stare was vicious enough to cut through glass. Before Jon could reply, a tall, bald-headed man sprinted into the throne room. He strode beside Daenerys and leaned into her ear, whispering in it.
Daenerys then viewed up at the party of three. She began to smile, but Maia saw tears form in her eyes. "You must forgive my manners. You three are probably tired after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms." She gestured to one of her Dothraki, giving them in order in a language Maia didn't understand.
The Dothaki soldier walked over, seeing as he was their guide to their rooms. Jon's eyes formed into slits as he stared at Daenerys. "Are we your prisoners?"
Daenerys turned on the ball of her heel. "Not yet."