A *Frustrated* AN: I can't believe I've had to say this I think twice now, for those of you that don't like the sword angle and are trying to school me in the reviews on its history, bruhs this is *FaNfIcTiOn*, I don't know what else to tell you except that that plot point hasn't unfolded yet. If you're interested in seeing it, stick around; if you're not that's cool too, you're under no obligation to like it, but I'm tired of some of you in my reviews treating this story as if it needs to be identical to the source material, nah, I can change what I want and keep what I want.
But FYI to the pseudo Dark Sister experts, I believe three of you said the same thing and you all were incorrect. Dark Sister being taken and then lost beyond the wall is *NOT* confirmed. Likely? Yes. Confirmed? No. But Either way, once again, this is a F-A-N-F-I-C-T-I-O-N, I have complete creative liberty, that's the beauty of this platform.
Also to the Dany haters . . . What are you even doing here? Stop wasting both of our times with your hypocritical Mad Queen nonsense and regurgitated sexist Mary Sue bullshit.
If you pointed out the Dark Sister thing in the reviews and meant well, I feel like maybe one of you did, I'm sorry for this very frustrated AN, but it's such a let down when you write a 6,000+ word chapter and then once again have to see people trying to school you (incorrectly) cause you're trying to exploring different avenues . . . And now I'm just repeating myself again, alright I'm done, here's the next chapter.
I own nothing.
Twenty: The Kingslayer
Mother of Dragons
Daenerys legs feel like lead, her head like a haze and she could distinctly feel her pulse in her neck as she makes her way down the spiraling, claustrophobic stairs to the Kingslayers section of cells.
During the exploration of the castle it was discovered there is a cell block bad enough to wish for death, and a cell block even lower in the dungeon bad enough to do something about it.
Dany put Lannister in the not so bad one. Bronn was a different story.
She stifled a very unladylike yawn, cursing herself for having kept herself painfully awake all night long, trying to think of another course of action. Anything that could keep both Jon Snow and Jamie Lannister exactly where they are, but came up frustratingly empty.
Short of acting irrationally and just commanding it to be so, there was no other feasible plan that could produce the results this one could, and gods if it didn't infuriate her.
Is this all I have in store for me for the rest of my life, however long it should be? Losing everything over and over again? Sending away a man that, unlike all the rest, actually makes me feel something, as well as releasing not only my enemy but that man that was essential in the ruin of my family? Will there ever be a time where the choice isn't impossible? Isn't painful? And gods be damned why does giving up the former hurt worse than the latter?
Dany physically flinches at her own pitiful thought process.
What a child you're acting like.
She straightens her back, her gait becoming more fluid as she comes ever closer to The Kingslayers cell, preparing herself to act dignified at all costs in front of him.
Of course you'll have to sacrifice everything, you already know that, have done just that you're entire life, you little fool, stop whining — even if it is to yourself.
As she mentally berates her lapse in willpower, she's reminded of the house with the red door. The only time she's ever felt like she had a real home. That had been taken from her too. To not even mention her son . . .
You know loss. This is not loss, this is diplomacy and it's essential.
Jons bearded, scarred face appears in her thoughts then, her mind becoming muddled as she can't differentiate the feelings the house in Bravos and The King in the North invoke in her anymore.
Dany runs out of stairs to walk, her Kos halting to speak to the guards on duty, making sure everything has been quiet with the Kingslayer. Once placated they move out of her line of vision and he appears.
He must have heard them coming because to Daenerys eye he looks to be trying very hard to seem ill at ease. If it weren't for the tension in his shoulders she might have bought it.
He'd bathed since she last saw him, and now, no longer covered in blood and soot, she can see just how handsome he truly is. Even at his age, she'd wager he'd turned every woman's head.
Well, before he lost his hand, I'm sure.
"Leave us," Dany commanded softy in Dothraki, giving them the side eye when they hesitated.
Once gone, The Kingslayer spoke, making Dany wish he were mute instead of crippled.
"How did you get those savages to follow a bitch? I've tried to come up with a reason but for the life of me — can't."
Usually when spoken to in such a manner she found herself amused, content with the rationalization that only the weak, scared or stupid would think her less than because of something as mundane as gender.
Hearing it from the man that betrayed his vows to her family and usurped her fathers throne was a bit harder to deal with. But she did.
"Not without difficulty," she said as if unbothered by his disrespect. It was the truth after all, she'll let truth ground her when she feels the fire trying to consume.
"Well, haven't you made something of yourself, Daenerys Targaryen. Mother to Monstrosities, Khaleesi of Dead Waste, Whore to Savages . . . did I miss any other titles? Probably did, you're so famous!" He cheered sarcastically. "They'll write songs about you for sure."
Daenerys couldn't help the twitch to her lips.
"I know how you're feeling, Kingslayer," she stepped closer to his cage, "I'd be embarrassed too if I'd made the grave mistake you did."
"Oh, I've made many mistakes in my life, what is it you're referring to? Getting caught? Ehh, I've been caught before, but," he waves a hand, his real hand, down his grubby body, "I'm still here."
"No," Dany whispers, "not that. The Dothraki."
She steps even closer, her face fully illuminated by a nearby torch.
"Only a fool would face the Dothraki in an open field. Because of your pride thousands died, and the rest defected, all because you thought you and yours impervious to the greatest horsed warriors the world has ever seen. Now you think mockery will save your pride, continue believing so if you'd like. If you can."
"Those overgrown savages would have been nothing without —"
Dany tsked as he tried to lie to her.
"No, you know better than that. You saw them in battle. It's not war to them; it's sport. They don't care if they live or die, as long as they have a horse under them they're happy and they believe they can have that here and in the Nightlands, so it makes no difference. There's very few ways to install that type of fearlessness, that amount of belief in so many. There was nothing you could have done on that field, with the exception of fleeing, that could have maybe changed the outcome"
His face hardened and he no longer cared about keeping up the pretense of a calm, mocking composure.
"I think this is the first time I've truly seen your eyes," he commented, shocking Dany at the subject change. "You have your father eyes."
Now her face was the one to turn to stone.
"I know what my father was," she repeats the words she once spoke to his brother, meaning them now just as she meant them then, "I know The Mad King earned his name and I know he deserved his fate."
Jamie's eyes widened ever so slightly, only fueling Dany.
"But tell me, Ser," she spat out his title, "Did the children? Did my niece and nephew, Aegon and Rhaenys, deserve to die? And their mother, was she evil as well? Did she deserve to be raped and cut in half by your sisters protector?"
Jamie's eyes fell immediately, but Dany wasn't done.
"Did my pregnant mother and my brother? Did I? the moment I was born?"
"I had no hand in any of that," Jamie says softly, his mocking tone gone completely.
Dany relaxed softly.
"I believe you."
Jamie's eyes shot back to hers, the wrinkles at the corners of them more pronounced.
"But I also believe that you are not stupid, not completely at least. You knew there was no way for them to survive. Their lives were forfeit the moment you murdered your King."
Her thoughts drifted to Meereen; all the casualties, the ones she sentenced directly and the ones that occurred just because of her well meaning interjection.
So many were freed and yet so many perished for it, forever shackled to death. She thought remorsefully.
"You may not have swung the sword yourself, but their deaths are still on your shoulders."
Jamie jumped up quickly, the sound of his chains rattling so jarring it made her bones ache.
"You think you're so fucking innocent, don't you," he growled, "need I remind you of the blood on your hands, Dragonrider? Have you forgotten the sight of the aftermath on that battle field?"
Dany eyed him best she could with his superior.
"If I had died on that field," she absentmindedly clutched her elbow, still in its sling, "no innocence would have been lost." She steps as close as she can, almost touching the rusted iron bars separating prisoner and captor. "If you'd died on that battle field, no innocence would have been lost, either. But there is a difference between us, a very important one. I kill when I have to, when my enemies get in my way. I've never purposely killed an innocent, can you say the same? And don't pretend Highgarden decimated themselves, that battle was just."
Jamie looked ready to start shouting again before his expression shifted.
"Purposely?" He smirked, ignoring her accusations and arguements in the most telling way.
Sadness still filled her eyes anyways though.
"Dragons are not easy to tame," she said softly, not elaborating further.
"Ah, yes, blame your Dragons . . . But then again, if they'd never been born, those deaths wouldn't have occurred now would they?" The mocking tone was back and to that Dany had nothing to say.
It's true. If I hadn't hatched my children, that child in Meereen would still be alive.
"That's alright though," The Kingslayer cooed, his handsome face transforming into something mean, "when all is said and done they'll be dead along with you and justice will have been delivered."
Dany was glad she was still meeting his eyes, if she hadn't been, she'd have missed the unsure glint in them.
"You don't actually believe that," she spoke emotionlessly, "you know, deep down, you have no way to defeat my dragons. You only faced one and look what happened. Your little arrow swatted away, its contraption destroyed, your army obliterated, your freedom stripped and me one step closer to what is rightfully mine."
Dany narrows her eyes.
"I must say, I find it very curious to see you still by sisters side, after all she's done . . . or would you prefer I call her your lover?"
Jamie sneers down at the silver haired Queen.
"Oh, you're one to talk, little girl, care to go over your family history?"
Dany shakes her head slowly.
"You obviously don't know my family history very well if that's your argument."
"What are you talking about, your family has been fucking and making monsters like you for centuries," he sputtered angrily.
Dany ignored the monster remark.
"But why did we marry one another?"
Jamie rolls his pure blue eyes.
"To keep the bloodlines pure, everyone's heard the same arguments bef—"
"But why? Why did we need our bloodlines pure?"
Before Jamie could say anything — Dany answered her own question.
"When my family lived in Valyria, we weren't the only ones with Dragons — weren't the only bloodline capable of controlling them. For a time. The others didn't realize what my kin did, though, they didn't understand the instability of the blood magic that made them and their dragons so special. They looked down upon us as we married brother to sister and aunt to nephew and so on, and as time went on and their blood and the magic that went along with it was diluted and they lost control, we remained strong and true. And when The Doom happened it was only because of that magic that flowed in our veins that we survived intact with our dragons."
"Daenys the Dreamer," The Kingslayer, whispered, knowing the savior of her kin during that dark time.
"Daenys the Dreamer," The Mother of Dragons repeated louder, struck with a surge of pride in her heritage. "And when our last dragon perished and our marriage practices continued it was because we had not forgotten where we came from nor did we give up hope of what we could once again be."
"And here you are," Jamie said snidely.
Daenerys gave him what could only be described as a queenly look. One that came as naturally to her as riding Drogon.
That lulled them both into a silence neither knew how to maneuver safetly.
Well there's no such thing as safe in this mans presence. Mine neither, to be fair.
"You must love her very much, to stand by as she commits the atrocities she does." Dany says, knowingly and somewhat understanding, reminded of hers and Drogos once unhealthy dynamic. She'd been treated better than most wives had been by the Dothraki, but even that wasn't enough when she now looked at it with fresh, unclouded eyes.
Jamie growled and jerked away, turning his back on her for the first time.
I wonder if his eyes would light up if I told him what is to happen. That he'd be seeing her soon — if Jon is successful. Would he be mocking or soft?
Dany sees no more use in staying, needing to see Ser Jorah and — just Ser Jorah off on his voyage.
She makes it to the first step when she hears him call out to her.
"Honestly, how did you get the Dothraki to follow a woman?" She turns around, seeing genuine curiosity on his face and in his voice.
She can't help herself from smirking a bit cockily and repeats words said to her long ago.
"The Dothraki follow strength above all."
Daenerys turned and began the long climb up the winding stairwell, trying to figure out, in all of that exhausting bickering . . . had they found some kind of common ground? Was that even possible?