SONG: Basic Instinct by The Acid
Jon
Jon Snow expected to be met with cold reactions upon arriving back at Winterfell, but he didn't quite expect the level that the North was bringing. The sounds of the Unsullied's marching feet was all he could hear, and while he wasn't expecting cheers, he didn't expect for every Northern face to be looking away from him in both shame and disapproval.
Convincing them to pledge fealty to Daenerys would be difficult, but he hoped Sansa's influence would help in that matter. The thought of seeing Robb's face again crossed his mind often, and he found himself guiltily hoping that Robb and Fianna had retired to Baelfort.
Seeking comfort, he cast a glance towards Daenerys, who returned his gaze with the slightest of smiles. Their relationship had amplified since their moment on the boat, and Jon found her stirring feelings inside of him he hadn't felt since, well, since Ygritte.
A booming screech and vast shadow overcast them, prompting Jon to tilt his head back and marvel as Drogon soared overhead. It was almost comical how the Northerners screamed and ducked in fright, but his amusement soon subsided when he saw a mother curl her arms around a crying little girl. He hadn't considered until now the real terror they probably still felt from the Targaryen reign, and how much more amplified that fear would be when the latest Targaryen conqueror also came equipped with two dragons.
Yes, this would be difficult indeed.
When finally the journey was over and they had reached Winterfell, Jon hopped off his horse with excitement. He hadn't seen Bran in eight years, and the prospect of seeing him again made him want to sprint toward them. Daenerys walked leisurely, a stiffness in her posture he didn't fail to pick up on. He had never seen the Targaryen so out of her own comfort zone, and the piercing eyes of those surrounding her had clearly caused her to become standoffish. That, and the prospect of meeting the rest of the Starks.
❄️
Sansa
Sansa Stark had seen so many dastardly things in her short lifetime, she had almost become numb to shock. But the sight of a dragon soaring over her home was still enough to catch her breath in her throat.
The redhead had been stood atop the Winterfell walls, watching as the large army flooded down the roads and looking for a glimpse of the Queen that had stirred up so much trouble.
"Seven fucking Hells!" Tiernan shouted from next to her, crouching lowly from fright while she remained standing tall, unwavering. "Remind me never to piss off the Targaryen!"
"Daenerys can't afford to burn any of the Northern Lords, Lord Tiernan," Sansa reassured him with an amused smirk.
"You tell Aegon the Conqueror that, we all know what happened to my ancestor," he huffed, straightening his posture and attempting to look strong again.
"Your only claim to fame," she teased, waiting for him to join her at her side so they could travel down to the courtyard.
"I'll have you know, Fianna is one of the most feared people in the Seven Kingdoms," he raised his eyebrows, offering his elbow for her to hold.
"Yes, Fianna. But you're not Fianna, are you?" She continued, holding back a chuckle at his offended expression. He truly embodied every Northern characteristic - stubborn, and overly protective.
"I'll have you know, Lady Sansa," he sputtered, struggling to come up with a response. "There's blood on my hands!"
"Your own, I'd bet," she turned to walk backwards, so she could drop her eye in a playful wink. When she faced forward again, he was grinning madly out of her eye line.
Rickon, Bran and a number of other Lords were already waiting when they arrived. Arya was nowhere to be seen, but Sansa had long since learned not to force Arya into doing anything formal that she simply didn't want to do. Jon and Arya would talk about Daenerys in their own time.
"Hi," Tiernan caught her attention before she took her place aside her brothers, "if you need me to back you up at any point, just look at me. Okay?"
Sansa nodded at him, thankful that she would have him at her defence - even though she didn't think she'd need him. She knew how to handle power-hungry Queens by now.
It wasn't long after that their guests had reached the welcoming party, and immediately Sansa's eyes were drawn to the snowy white hair of what would probably prove to be her biggest foe in times to come. But first, they would have to be allies.
The redhead snapped out of her daze as Jon's black mop of hair moved past her, crouching beside Bran and hugging him tightly in greeting.
"You're a man now," Jon sniffed, leaning back and looking over his features.
"Almost," Bran simply replied, and she held back a snicker. If Jon expected much emotion from their little brother, he was looking at the wrong sibling.
Rickon was next in line, who gave Jon a much more welcoming embrace, the elder of the two ruffling his hair cheekily.
When he got to Sansa, his smile became a little tighter upon noticing her stoic expression. He should have known she'd be the coolest of them all when it came to his abdication.
Nevertheless, he leaned in to hug her. Sansa's eyes met Daenerys' over his shoulder, watching as the blonde stared at the scene almost protectively. Perhaps Robb had been right to suspect there was something going on between the two.
"Where's Arya?" Jon prompted after letting her go, regaining her attention. This time, Sansa analysed Jon's features. They had placed so much hope onto him, and now he had squandered so much of it.
"Lurking somewhere," she answered, raising an eyebrow as Jon beckoned for Daenerys to approach them. The Targaryen was full of smiles as she approached Sansa, who stood a good head taller. Not at all intimidated by her appearance, she spoke as if they were friends getting re-acquainted.
Trying to prove she's not her father - no doubt, Sansa thought to herself.
"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen," Jon introduced them, using hand gestures, "Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell."
"Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark," Daenerys began, her voice light-hearted and sweet. "The north is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you."
Sansa struggled not to give a reaction at her words, her eyebrows twitching to move up and her eyes begging to roll. She had to remember Robb's instructions in this instance - which were to act as if she were welcoming a guest, not as if she were handing her home to them.
"You're truly an honoured Guest, my lady," Sansa replied cooly, emphasising the reductive title she used for the Queen. Daenerys and Jon didn't fail to notice it, their eyes fixated on Sansa's face in warning.
"We don't have time for this," Bran interrupted the thick cloud of tension forming impatiently, "the Night King has Fianna's dragon. He's one of them now. The Wall has fallen."
Daenerys reeled at his words, in particular she honed on the fact Viserion had apparently become apart of their army. This war had just become a lot more personal.
❄️
Fianna
They could have met Jon and Daenerys in the courtyard, proudly greeting them as guests in their once-again independent kingdom. But as Robb pointed out, they would be doing so while Daenerys had an army of Unsullied Dothraki at her back. When they broke the news to Jon and Daenerys, it had to be surrounded by their own allies. In their own territory.
Tiernan had sent them an envoy to inform the duo of when they would all be gathered inside the Great Hall, and once they were, Robb and Fianna prepared to leave.
Placing a kiss on her children's heads, she left with a nod to her grandfather - Bonifer. Fianna knew he wouldn't let anyone harm the twins in his presence.
Once they reached the door of the great hall, Fianna grappled for Robb's hand to hold onto. He looked towards her upon sensing the contact, the a smile curling up his lips.
"Are you nervous?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Do you remember what I said to you when they first crowned you King in the North?" She tilted her head, unable to stop the amused smile that plastered itself across her lips.
"That it should have been you?" He grinned cheekily, holding his hand up to pause the servant who was prepared to open the door.
"No," she rolled her eyes. "I said that from that day, until my last day, you are my king. That I would fight for you, and die for you. If I had to."
Robb's eyes gleamed with pride. While he'd never put her in a situation that would risk her life over his own, to love and to be loved as fiercely in return was an unimaginable feeling. All his life he wanted a love that burned as brightly as his parents did. Wherever they were, he was sure they'd be proud that Robb and Fianna had found each other. He had to wonder if his father had any idea what was waiting for them when he betrothed the two.
"Are you ready for yet another dramatic entrance, your grace?" He nodded mockingly towards her, giving the doorman a signal to open it up.
"Always," she chuckled, wiping the amusement off her face as the doors opened, revealing a crowded room before them.
Fianna had eyes on Daenerys since the second she saw her, seated in her chair at the high table. The blonde's eyebrows furrowed upon noticing her niece's entrance, which descended into a full frown as she watched the Northerner's reactions.
Throughout the entirety of their council meeting, not a single Lord nor Lady in the room would answer to anyone but Sansa. Not even to Jon. It didn't take long for Daenerys to figure out why when she saw everyone bow in greeting to the two, as they stepped down the centre space.
Robb stood tall, as did Fianna - her limp now only noticeable to those who knew she had injured her leg. Everyone in the room looked towards them with the level of respect that she was more than familiar with, the respect given to one's King or Queen.
Whispers of "your grace", met her ears, only they weren't directed towards her. Daenerys bristled with fury at their audacity - a renegade King and Queen.
Jon and Robb maintained eye contact as much as the women did, betrayal and confusion on one side and anger from the other.
They paused just before the top table, so Fianna was the first one to speak.
"You're in my seat," she announced clearly, not at all frightened by the fierceness of Daenerys' glare.
"The centre seats are maintained for the highest figure of power, and that's Daenerys - our queen," Jon defended on her behalf, albeit his voice was shaken.
"The Northerners have decided differently," Sansa spoke up, struggling to withhold her smirk. "They have decided to pledge fealty to Robb and Fianna."
Daenerys' jaw clenched, remaining seated while Jon stood up in disbelief.
"What you've done-" he stammered, looking around to see if the consensus was widespread, "this is treason."
"And what you have done is cowardice," Robb finally said, angrier than Jon had ever seen him. He knew Robb would fight Jon's decision to step down the most, but he didn't think a revolution was on anyone's minds.
"We don't have time for this!" He protested. "The dead are ready to march to Winterfell any day now, and you're trying to incite a civil war!"
"There will be no war," Robb refuted, "at least, not until the Great War is over."
"And what then? Even after a battle, the North would never stand against Dothraki, Unsullied and two dragons," Daenerys grumbled through gritted teeth. She knew that whatever familial relationship she had formed with Fianna was already deteriorated, but not this badly.
"I'd be careful when insulting the North, Daenerys," Fianna raised an eyebrow, casting a quick glance around at those surrounding her, all equally wearing expressions of contempt. "Especially when you're in a room filled with them, with only Missandei and Tyrion Lannister to defend you."
"You and your armies will be honoured guests at Winterfell until the Great War is over, but make no mistake in believing that we are under your reign," Robb continued. He had been the most offended by Jon's decision to abdicate, which felt like a slap in the face after all he had worked toward.
Jon and Daenerys shared a glance, still not moving from their seats as they internally debated their next move. It was clever, Jon realised, how they were still cornered despite Daenerys having a the majority of soldiers.
"If titles mean as little to you as you say, dear brother," Robb tilted his head condescendingly, "then move aside so we can start talking about how we're going to win this war."
Swallowing thickly, Jon gave Daenerys a pointed look and got up from his seat, moving dejectedly to the one further right, next to Rickon. The youngest Stark boy had remained silent during the exchange, trying to remember Fianna's words about how he didn't have to get involved at all. He wasn't sure which side he'd have chosen anyway.
Daenerys relocation was a little more prolonged, but there was only so long she and Fianna could glare at each other before one of them had to make a move.
"So your title meant nothing then?" Lyanna stood up as Robb and Fianna sat themselves down, the angry words she had tried keeping to herself bubbling to the surface. "You left Winterfell a King and came back a bi-... well, I'm not sure what you are now."
"It's not important," Jon defended meekly, receiving a shake of a head from Robb.
"Not important?" She echoed. "We named you King in the North! Your own brother passed the crown to you, trusting that you would do it justice."
"It was the honour of my life, and I'll always be grateful for your faith. But when I left Winterfell, I told you we needed allies or we will die. I had a choice, to keep my crown or protect the North. I chose the North."
"Allies, yes," Fianna repeated, keeping her expression stoic, "Not another ruler."
Tyrion, feeling the need to defend his Queen, hopped up from his chair and waddled around to the front of the table. In his experience, people listened more when they felt it was a discussion, instead of a speech.
"If anyone survives this war to come, we'll have Jon Snow to thank," he held his hand out to Jon, suddenly feeling the pressure of eyes on him. However much the North hated Targaryens, they mistrusted the Lannisters just as much.
"He risked his life to show us the threat is real," he continued, "thanks to his courage, we have brought with us the greatest army the world has ever seen. We have brought two full grown dragons. And soon, the Lannister army will ride North to join our fight."
"What?" Robb bellowed, expression falling. "Now you expect us to trust Cersei Lannister?"
"I know, I know, our people haven't been friends in the past!" Tyrion winced at the uproar, not missing that Fianna closed her eyes to exhale in frustration. "But we must fight together now, or die."
"'Haven't been friends', is it?" Robb narrowed his eyes. "Your family was responsible for the murder of my father and mother, and the torture of myself, my wife and my sister. Unless you're paying her a hefty sum, I won't believe they'd fight alongside us until I see a lion's cape next to mine on the battlefield."
"May I ask," Sansa began, directing a question towards Tyrion that Fianna barely listened to. She was caught by the eyes that practically burned holes into the side of her face. Turning to the left, she caught Daenerys' unwavering gaze. The Targaryen looked absolutely furious with her niece, but Fianna didn't miss the shake of her lips, nor the innocent widening of her eyes.
Deny it as she would, she couldn't ignore that Daenerys had fantasied of forming a bond between them since discovering she existed. She had her advisors, and her trusted friends, but Dany didn't have the family that she longed to find in Fianna. Well, that she knew of yet anyway.
And now the only family she knew about was tearing apart her dream of the Seven Kingdoms. The thought was enough to force Fianna to look away, pushing away any semblance of guilt that threatened to form.
❄️
Tiernan
"How are you holding up, little man?" Tiernan asked, draping his arm across Rickon's shoulders. He had gotten so much taller every time they saw each other, more of a man than ever before. It made Tiernan feel rather old, despite only being in his early 20s.
"Just-" he cut off, looking across at the vast camping ground that had been set up. "I just want this all to be over."
"You and me both," Tiernan scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as they walked. "You're alright though, aren't you? Everything with Robb and Jon is bound to be stressful."
"I don't care about that, I know that they'll sort it out. Brothers always do," he shrugged, flicking his curly mop of hair out of his face.
"Right you are," he caught sight of red hair nearby and immediately smirked, "it's the sisters you have to concern yourself with."
Patting the teenager on his back, he skipped toward Sansa who was hurriedly making her way across the muddy grounds.
"You held yourself well back there," he complimented, catching up to her side.
"I think after everything I can handle a Queen or two by now," she huffed, cheeks flushed as she powered forward.
"Hey, hey," Tiernan reached out, gently cupping his arm around her elbow to stop her from rushing on. "What's going on? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she grumbled, shaking her head for a moment to calm herself. "I just have so much to do and so little time to do it. Brynden and Edmure have yet to reply to our scrolls so we have no idea if they're even coming, every Northern family is headed this way right now and so is an army of the undead. Don't get me started on food reserves, at least if we have mass casualties we can afford to feed the survivors after," she spoke bitterly.
"Sansa," Tiernan chuckled scandalously, looking around to ensure no one else had heard her. "Come on, I'll help you. I know a thing or two about a thing or two."
Sansa hesitated, usually she liked to keep her own workload to herself, only sharing it with Robb and Fianna. But she took great pride in her organising skills, and wasn't sure if she wanted someone else impeding on that. Nevertheless, she still needed help.
"Alright," she nodded in acceptance, allowing him to trail after her while they made their way to her father's - now Robb's, solar.
❄️
Robb
"And three thousand of these," Robb pointed towards a drawing of a dragonglass axe, rolling up the scroll and handing it towards Gendry. "Do you think you'll be able to get it all done?"
"We'll soon find out," the Baratheon bastard huffed, thinking of the workload ahead of him, "why so many axes? I would have thought swords would be the better choice."
"Many of our fighters are common folk who have never fought before, I thought they'd feel more comfortable with an axe than a sword," Robb explained, patting him on the back before scraping a hand through his own reddened hair.
"You know who you reminded me of in there?" Jon's voice suddenly met his ears, surprisingly calm given the rift between them. Instead of answering, Robb simply glanced toward him in acknowledgement, his eyes remaining trained on Fianna, who was playing with Aifric and Eddie beneath them.
"Your mother," Jon finished, an amused smirk on his lips.
"Why's that then?" Robb couldn't help but chuckle, looking towards him finally with mirth in his eyes.
"Fiercely protective over her family, and ready to cut my throat in an instant," he joked. Although his words were with good humour, Robb stiffened, all amusement wiping from his features.
"You know that I never approved of the way she treated you, Jon," he commented, knowing that his half-brother suffered in his younger years.
"I know," Jon reaffirmed, following his brother's eye line to his family below. "My, my, the twins grow fast."
"Eddie is a Stark through and through," Robb chuckled, "he reminds me of his namesake. Quiet and well mannered. And then there's Aifric, who's this close to running off and riding those dragons. She'll be the handful, I'd say."
"How ironic," Jon drily chuckled, "the ancestor she was named after was burned to death by a dragon."
"Tell me about it," Robb rolled his eyes in amusement, watching as Fianna was wrestled to the ground by her children, the sludge that formed from a mix of snow and muck now coating her backside. Jon looked on silently for a moment at Robb's unwavering gaze.
He always knew that Robb would protect his family to the death, but the way he watched over his children was a very familiar sight. It reminded him ever so much of his own father, watching over them protectively from the balconies of Winterfell.
It was the first time in a while that he had felt like Winterfell wasn't his home.
❄️
Fianna
"Look what you've done now," Aifric cried out at Eddie, after having been knocked into a pile of hay. Fianna was laughing hysterically at the sight, the mud caked to their clothes causing the straw to stick to Aifric's breeches as if she were a scarecrow.
"Come on, little one," she cooed, reaching forward for her hands and tugging her upward.
"Go on," Eddie prompted, "cry!"
"Eddie," Fianna reprimanded, brushing the straw off her father with her hands.
"She always pretends to cry whenever you're around and then hits me harder when you go away!" He ranted, crossing his arms in a huff. Fianna rolled her eyes to the Heavens. They really had reached the age of constant bickering and fights.
"I think it's safe to assume these are the famous twins," Daenerys' called out, unable to keep a warm smile off her lips as she had been watching the scene for a few moments before. Fianna straightened and turned immediately, the twins cowering behind her with frowns. They hadn't been hidden from the stories circulating Winterfell of the lady with the white hair, and although she was beautiful, the sight of her put the fear of the gods into them.
"Yes," Fianna swallowed with a nod, feeling their fingers dig into her legs. "This is Eddard and Aifric."
"Eddard and Aifric?" She echoed with a smirk, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. "Names as controversial as their parents, then."
"Did you expect anything less," Fianna breathed a laugh, posture still tense. She didn't know what to expect from Daenerys ever since the council meeting, and didn't want any arguments to erupt in front of the twins.
"Of course not," she still held a polite smile, confusing the Baelfort native as she crouched down and waved at the cowering children. "I had a son once, you know."
"Really?" Fianna questioned, never having heard of her even being married.
"Yes," Daenerys smiled fondly. "Rhaego. He didn't survive the birthing process, unfortunately."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied sincerely. Despite their differences, as a mother, Fianna felt her agony.
"He was named after my brother, Rhaegar," she smiled wistfully. "As is Rhaegal, the dragon with green scales. Speaking of, Rhaegal has become rather taken with Jon."
Fianna didn't think that Daenerys meant her comment as a threat, but her face fell nonetheless. It was well known that only those with Valyrian blood could ride a dragon, how could Daenerys not have realised by now that Jon was one of their own?
The words of revelation rested on her tongue, begging to tell Daenerys the truth. Especially now, after seeing the way with which they acted around each other.
"If Viserion hadn't fallen we could have been the three dragons," Daenerys continued, eyes fixated on Aifric as she slowly began to inch out from her mother's leg. Fianna quickly stopped her daughter before she ventured further, placing a hand on her head in warning.
"Ah yes, he would be Aegon in that case I suppose," Fianna spoke before realising what she had said. Daenerys kept her light expression, but it wavered slightly.
"Surely I would be Aegon, the Conqueror," she nodded, prompting Fianna to nod silently along with her. "You would be Visenya for sure, always at odds with the other two. Vicious she was."
Fianna refrained from voicing once again that she didn't think she had anything to do with the Targaryen family, but her own pity for the woman before her kept her silent. Daenerys wanted nothing more than her supposed birthright, and as soon as she found out about Jon's lineage, it would crush her.
"I don't hate you for this mini-revolution you and Robb started," Daenerys began, while Fianna crouched down and pointed towards Rickon in the distance, urging them to follow after him. "I even understand it. You're protecting your family."
Daenerys watched while the twins scampered off toward their uncle, an ache in her chest at the sight. Fianna chose not to answer to that.
"Surely you understand that the North would be better off combined with the other Seven Kingdoms," she tried to plead with her, hoping to appeal to Fianna's head if not her heart. "Financially, and economically. Where would you grow oats in the cold landscape?"
"We made it work before Aegon, we'll make it work after," Fianna replied cooly, seeing right through Daenerys' kind image. "Frankly I'm not sure you're the right leader for economic and political benefit either."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Her smile finally fading, eyes snapping towards Fianna.
"I've heard all about your escapades in the Land across the sea," Fianna shrugged innocently. "Rather galant of you to free all those slaves. But you didn't think long term, Daenerys."
The blonde stood quietly, waiting for an elaboration.
"You may have done the most humane thing but you left the cities in economic ruin, overturning the political structure I wholeheartedly agree with but you failed to put one in its place. You left them vulnerable, open to attack. And believe me, the second you took your armies and your dragons an attack is imminent. Would you return to Essos if it was invaded?"
Daenerys stayed silent, eyes fixed on a point on the ground beneath them. She had trusted Daario with ruling, but never stopped to think that perhaps she had did more damage than good.
"So you'd rather me keep those slaves in chains?"
"A good ruler overturns current political standings over years, not overnight. You want the Iron Throne, yet you're not willing to sacrifice anything for it."
With those final words, Fianna turned and readied herself to storm off, but decided to leave one final comment to drive the nail home.
"Have you ever stopped to consider that the Seven Kingdoms were doing just fine with a Baratheon on the throne and not a Targaryen?"
❄️
"Seven Hells, Bran," Fianna stomped towards the chair-bound man, who had been eerily staring at everyone all day from the same spot. "Do you need to be wheeled inside? Are you stuck?"
"No, Fianna," he replied, the same droll voice as always. "I'm waiting for an old friend."
"Is that friend frostbite?" She commented, looking around for any nearby listeners before speaking again. "When are you going to tell Jon, Bran? You can't let them continue on like this. If they're gonna keep that incest shit up they deserve to both know about it."
"Samwell Tarly is telling him as we speak," he nodded, returning his gaze to the gates of Winterfell.
"What?" She hissed in shock, looking around for the two friends. "How much is he going to find out?"
"All of it," Bran answered, meeting her gaze once more. "About Rhaegar and Lyanna, about his claim to the throne and about how he's both a cousin to you and I."
"I never said I wanted anyone to find out about my own lineage Bran," she lowered her voice, a sense of dread filling her. He never did reply again, his gaze shifting from her to a doorway behind her that she knew held the entrance to the crypts. Whirling on the spot, she immediately spotted Jon exiting, looking sickly pale and ready to vomit.
❄️
A slower chapter for a slow episode, I can't wait for the action to happen! I already have an idea of who's living and surviving in this book, whether that will be the same as the show or not you'll have to see!
Fun fact I went back to chapter five to find out what Fianna had actually said when Robb was claimed King and no joke she said she'd rather give a leg than swear fealty to a Southern king, did I accidentally foreshadow myself?
Hope you all enjoy!! Feel free to comment with reactions to last night's episode I'd love to discuss it!