hadriel_logs | The Wounded With The Wounder's Whip [CLOSED-ish, see note]

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The Wounded With The Wounder's Whip [CLOSED-ish, see note]

Who: Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen; Jon Snow & Lyanna Stark (although: please give me a nudge if you wanted Jon and your character to have a nasty argument during the CR swap event, or etc, and I'll add something for you or hit you up on the log!)
What: This bitter disagreement isn't like either of them, but it might clarify a few things going forward. Meanwhile, Jon's teenage mother has an opinion about what went down.
Where: At home!
When: Slightly backdated to the Your Best Enemy event.
Warnings: All Game of Thrones warnings always apply: extreme medieval violence not limited by age/gender/alignment, incest, rape, etc. These two are decent human beings who are in the middle of trying to work out their feelings for each other in the face of some heavy revelations, but the history of their canon has impacted them both as people, so potentially objectionable content is likely to be referenced in their tags. Also, Jon and Dany developed romantic feelings for each other in Hadriel... then found out that they're pretty closely related. Their mutual attachment likely isn't fully taboo in their canon, where such marriages have been used in the past to settle inheritance disputes, but it absolutely would be considered incestuous in our world today.

Jon has been growing more and more agitated over the last few days, an agitation that has one target in particular and that isn't helped by the poor conditions in the city. The first day, he simply avoids Daenerys, although the impulse to find her and tell her what he thinks of her is strong. The second day, he tries to banish his feelings by hunting, but that doesn't help much. The third day... well, he decides to find Daenerys instead of avoiding her.

"We need to talk," he says, abruptly. There's an unusual note in his voice -- coldness and contempt. It's not how he typically speaks to her, or to much of anyone, at all.

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The way he addresses her is different. And annoying. Her brows dart down, displeased expression clear, and she merely crosses her arms in first response.

"What is it?" Honestly, how dare he demand anything of her right now, or - at all? Her jaw sets tight as she waits with dwindling patience, wondering what more he could possibly have to drop onto her right now, after everything.

"Have you learned any more secrets to throw my life into further chaos?"

A dramatization, to be sure...to a degree. The news of his parentage had been enormous, after all, and impacted further by her meeting Lyanna, by his confession of love, by her trying to avoid him, but seeing not one, but two wolves around the city.

"That's what we need to talk about," he snaps back at her. "You think it's your life that's been thrown into chaos? It's all nothing to you but your pride, your claim."

His jaw is set tightly too, and his look is very dark.

"Nothing has changed for you. Nothing."

If looks could kill, they might set Jon ablaze in a spray of dragonfire. Since they can't, Dany instead looks, at first, absolutely flabbergasted...until it shifts to intense anger, her hands curling into fists.

"My pride? You think that all I have worked for has been for my pride?" It would sting in a terribly painful way, to hear that, if she weren't fueled by the gods' influence and a fiery rage. "You know nothing about me, though you claim to have feelings for me in spite of it. You are a fool."

Could he truly have tracked her down just to insult her? The idea is so wildly out of character for him, and so unbelievable, that she's caught between this rage and a stark confusion.

"Never ever claim to know what I am and what I think. I am not some fair maid that you can revenge yourself upon after your love has been spurned. I will not stand here and abide your insults."

"Oh, I am a fool, to have thought you were worthy of that."

His gaze flicks down to her fists. A childish way for her to react, but he should expect that from her by now. Everything with these Targaryens is temper. He's glad that he was raised by the Starks; he wants no part in it. He longs to see Catelyn Stark now and make peace with her.

No chance of that, though.

"You'd fight me for that throne. You'd let thousands of men die if you could crawl to the top on their bodies. If not for pride, then why else? Don't lie to me: I see you clearly."

"Yes, I would fight you for the throne, if that simple concept is what we must resort to in order for you to understand a fragment of what my purposes are in Westeros. I luckily won't have to shoulder your emotional burdens alongside everything else when I am there because none of us will know. You'll never have the chance to force me to carry the truth of your birth because the knowledge of it has thrown your own life into chaos."

Damn Rhaegar, and Lyanna, too. For telling him, at the very least. For starting all this.

"I will not allow you to sully the truth of what I have fought for for years. You're incapable of ruining something so precious to me." She approaches, staring hard up at him, wishing for all the world that she had more of a show of force in this moment, but knowing that her own bearing is all she has. "I have overcome dozens of small men, Jon Snow, and you are no greater than any of them. You may play at the hero and the savior, but it is my strength that you need to accomplish it. I see you clearly, and you are small."

That should sting him, and it would wound his pride at other times, but he knows who he is. He knows what he's done, and why, and who he's helped.

"You're right that I was a fool to show you that courtesy, Daenerys." A voice echoes in his mind... who is it? Lord Glover? Lord Royce of the Vale? You cannot trust a Targaryen -- and whoever it was, they were right, at least when it comes to Targaryens who grew up with the name. "I thought you deserved to know. I was wrong -- you deserve nothing from me. Not my love, not my support for your claim.

"Your small claim. All that's precious to you.

"Your blood is poison. I hate that I have any part of it."

Edited 2018-12-24 04:20 (UTC)

"I want nothing from you, and I don't need it." A small voice is somewhere in her mind, struggling to escape, to speak, but it is thoroughly caged. The gods' influence is more powerful than her own will, and so she fumes instead, eyes blazing. "I have everything that I need to take the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei, and the second I can see how arrogant and dangerous you are, I will ensure you never leave Dragonstone."

What she feels now is hate. Only hate. And that hatred calls for his blood.

"You will have no part of the Targaryen name, then," she hisses. "If ever I find out the truth of your birth in Westeros, you will be relieved of the name."

Of your life. Dany is aware, now, of the dagger she keeps at her side, of the one meant to keep her safe, to fight off anything that means her harm. Enemy. Traitor. Danger. Her heart is drowning in a sea of black and red.

She may have a dagger, but he has a sword -- a Valyrian steel sword, very light and very sharp -- and he is expert in its use. What has kept him from using it so far is his reluctance to kill where he doesn't need to.

That must be why he hasn't drawn it yet, despite the twisting of his stomach and the way he's nearly vibrating with anger and loathing.

He lets out a single bitter laugh at the words she spits at him.

"That's your way, isn't it? Threaten people with your dragons when you're afraid someone might be better than you." Because that is, he assumes, the implication: the dragons will come down on him, on the North. "Can you do much without them? There's a reason your family lost the throne. None more arrogant or dangerous."

She has no illusions of what would happen if she tried to attack him. Dany is blinded by anger, but not without any sense. Jon is faster, stronger, and a dozen other things that would stop her dagger from ever reaching his skin. Worse still, she knows how easily he could dispatch her in return. Maybe give her a head start, then hunt her like a rabbit.

These imaginary events fuel the fire.

"I said nothing of my dragons," she spits back, teeth bared a bit. "I could order it of any one of those who followed me to Dragonstone. They would do it themselves, if they could see the threat that you pose to us. I don't need dragons to take the throne or to deal with you or to eliminate the threat from beyond the wall that you let pass into the Seven Kingdoms."

She won't argue against the arrogant and dangerous nature of Targaryens. Any given relative will prove him right. Still, she has to hold tight within herself that she has risen above them, that she has the people that she has saved and will save at heart.

(Even so, their faces are muddied, in this moment. There is no soft fondness for the children of Mereen. There is only a blinding anger, a murderous lust for the blood of the man in front of her.)

She realizes that the dagger is in her hand and isn't sure how long it's been since she withdrew it.

"Test me and see what I can do 'without them.'"

"No, you'd have to have someone kill me for you. Can't do it yourself."

Can you do anything for yourself, my lady? Or is she even a lady? What is the daughter of a man who was tossed off of a throne for murderous ineptitude?

He glances down at her drawn dagger, still feet away, and his burning anger is covered with a mask of chilly contempt.

"Every man who's ever come at me with a knife is dead now. Even if I didn't cut your throat or put my sword through your face, I'd still break your wrist: you'd be like to lose your hand, if you were lucky. And if you somehow managed to hurt me, you'd still have my mother and my sister and their friends to deal with.

"If you try to make the North suffer, you'll suffer too, in the end. The wights will come for you as sure as for anyone else."

Edited 2018-12-24 23:08 (UTC)

"I am not a man," she snarls, and grips the handle more tightly. "This is not your world. If you killed me, then I would return before you could begin to comprehend your mistake. I have friends and allies here, too, though you may find it hard to believe. Some of them are of Westeros, and what would they think of the noble Jon Snow to find what you'd done?"

Perhaps they could imagine Daenerys committing an act like that, if they look deep within themselves to all the things they've ever heard about the Targaryens. To imagine the honorable hero from the North striking her down would be much more complicated a thing.

"You can't tell me that my dragons and my forces are the only hope for defeating those monsters and then claim that they will end me. With or without whatever it is that you have to offer, I will defeat the wights and the Night King. I will put an end to Cersei Lannister and her allies. If you still remain after that, then I will deal with you, too."

"No, you're not." He sounds pugnacious. "But what gods are you relying on now? The ones who are lost? Hope isn't here."

At an ordinary time, if his mind weren't so overtaken, he might put two and two together: which god is here?

"I tell you that no one has any hope of defeating them if we don't work together. But it doesn't matter to you. You can't be trusted as an ally, and you can't defeat the Night King on your own. So you'll have your throne until he comes to take it from you with all the men -- and women, and children -- you killed to get it. You'll die one way or another. Everything you've ever done will be ashes and the dead."

They're beginning to go in circles now. And he's still furious with her, but it's beginning to feel like a waste of time unless he does want to kill her, which he doesn't. It's exactly because of the nobility she mocks that he comes to his next decision.

"I'm leaving." Where he's going, he doesn't know... maybe to try to find a drink somewhere.

Fear doesn't have a part in this play, and so she isn't worried that she might die, never to be resurrected. As a result, she scoffs at his question, brushing it aside without any thought.

"You can't intimidate me with your stories. I believe what I saw, what you showed me against my will, but I have confidence in my own strength and in the strength of my allies. If the army of the dead gains power like you describe, it will be because you failed to defeat it when you had the chance."

The argument might have lasted forever if he hadn't said anything. It feels like he's fleeing, and so she bares her teeth again in a furious expression.

"Go, then. Find a dark corner and brood in it. You'll see no more of me, not anywhere I might be at risk to catch sight of you."

She doesn't plan to hear any more of what he has to say, either. Dany turns and makes for the house, already planning a trip with an undefined return.

After Jon's argument with her, Daenerys left the house that they shared, taking all her things.

He can't really bring himself to care where she went.

Today, he sits cutting a slice of cheese off of a wedge of it, something left over from his journey, added to a piece of hard bread. There isn't much light for this in the kitchen, so he sits on a chair in front of a table near a window with a board to cut on. The light may be dim, but it's cold and clear.

It was hard to ignore the spiral of Jon's mood. First that he had been keeping to himself and now a sudden surge of aggression that was hard to mistake. She hadn't been certain what her place was, and while she and Daenerys had discussed it before, she hesitated to actually approach him about it.

But seeing him in the kitchen, angrily stuffing his face, it was hard to ignore any longer.

She cut a piece of bread for herself before she went to his side, watching him carefully with assessing eyes. "You seem to have much on your mind." Meaning that he was brooding more than before.

Ah, his mother, and sure to be here to give him a talking to, as a mother would. But it might be that he deserves it for all his illusions about Daenerys Targaryen.

He attempts a weak smile.

"No. I did before; I don't anymore. I was a fool to let things trouble me."

He cuts a thin slice of cheese with rather more force than is strictly necessary. Ordinarily he likes cheese, but today he just seems angry with it.

She placed her hand over his, stilling his ferocious attacks against the cheese. Gently, she coaxed the blade from his fingers, meaning to cut a piece for herself while also disarming him. This wasn't the son that she had come to know. He might be broody and dark, but he was never aggressive, not like this.

This was almost like Brandon rather than Ned.

"Oh? And what is it that you managed to sort out?"

She had heard the yelling, but the complete story, she wanted to hear it from him first.

"Everything." It's said too darkly for it to be as nonchalant as he'd like.

He follows it with a short, exasperated sigh, and capitulates.

"Daenerys. She's the worst woman I've ever met."

He doesn't really appreciate the knife being taken from his hand, but when Lyanna begins to cut the cheese for herself, he rethinks his plan to request its return.

"All she cares about is her bloody throne." Grumbling contempt, now.

"Is that how you felt when you were fighting for the return of Winterfell?" She asked him simply. The discussion of the Targaryen was a difficult one, as much of her thoughts and feelings were wrapped in guilt. Her life, her world had been displaced because of Lyanna's actions. It was impossible not to feel responsible for how everything had gone for her. No mother, brother or throne. All because a wolfling had spurred forward a bloody war that swept the country.

She wasn't about to give him back the knife, making certain to keep busy with it, at least until his mind was finally elsewhere. This sort of mood was made more dangerous with blades.

"Oh? As opposed to what? The throne was her family's, it belongs to her House but they were killed and forced from Westeros. I cannot fault her for being consummed with it. It might be the last of her family that she has."

The look he gives her is somewhere between reproachful and derisive.

"I'm the last of her family that she has. Neither of us wants that, but I am. But she should care more about the men and women living in Westeros than about ruling them, and she doesn't. I already told her I had no wish to fight her for her throne, but she still behaves as though -- " A beat, and he adds, "She threatened me with a blade."

It doesn't matter that Daenerys doesn't love him, that he'll never hold her or kiss her, because he can't remember why he thought he was in love with her to begin with. "You know, I spent weeks on a boat with her before you came to Hadriel. Weeks. I don't know why I didn't jump in the sea."

Edited 2018-12-30 15:53 (UTC)

She managed to hold his gaze, unwavering and calm in the face of his anger. It was no worse than what she could give and she wasn't looking to fight with her own son.

"Aye, neither of you want it. Perhaps that is why she is less than warm about it? This sort of news takes acceptance and time. Perhaps don't hold her to account for something that even you have not come to terms with?" It doesn't make her feel at ease to hear that this news is distasteful to him, but this wasn't the moment to address that.

"Oh? And what did you threaten her with?" Because it's clear there was some sort of level of intimidation, if his attack against the cheese is any indication. "Aegon," no, not Jon. Aegon. She was irritated and exasperated with this man who is her son. "If you spent a week with her, then clearly you don't hate her as much as you claim right now."

He can't help it if Daenerys was intimidated by his presence. "I never drew my sword. I did tell her I'd break her wrist if she came at me with the knife, and that if by some chance I failed and she killed me, she'd have you and Sansa to deal with. She said she'd kill me at home and take the North by force."

This is no different from the day he went after Thorne with a knife -- another dangerous enemy. Hadn't Jon had to hang Thorne in the end? Hadn't Thorne let it be known that he would do as much with Jon if given the chance?

"When I spent weeks with her, she didn't think I might take her precious throne away. It wouldn't be the first time I've been a fool. But I told her I don't want that, either, or her love, or -- nothing. I want nothing of her."

He is aware of exactly how petulant he sounds, but as he sits and thinks on it, he can think of a number of things wrong with Daenerys.

"You sound like you're blaming me," he points out, all bitterness.

Edited 2018-12-30 17:05 (UTC)

"She is not going to be a kinslayer, Aegon." She used the name again purposefully. However much these two were fighting, both of them had too much integrity and honor to commit that sin. "She has been alone all of her life, as have you. It doesn't matter who has the throne, you are family, a dying House. If you kill one another, you're cursed."

It was ridiculous to hear him talk this way, not simply in such a derogatory way, but also as though the throne mattered. From what she had seen, he didn't care for that sort of title. So why were they even fighting over it. "You don't want the throne. Why are you quarreling over it? Why not swear yourself to her and support her claim instead?" This was nearing ridiculous. "It seems you do want something. You love her, otherwise you won't be fighting this way."

She frowns at him. "Oh? To me, it sounds as though you still blame me for all of this. Take it out on me, not her."

"Who could curse us here, in this godsforsaken place?"

He holds on that, then shakes his head quickly and dismissively.

"No. I don't think the throne matters. She does, and that's the trouble. I don't bloody love her, I wish I'd never seen her. So many will die for her ambition, Lyanna -- they already have. She'll climb to her seat on their bodies. But you didn't make her ambitious."

To this point, he has completely ignored her calling him Aegon, but this point is a breaking point, and he's beginning to seem more glum than angry, exceedingly glum. "If you -- I know you want to call me that, I know it's the name you gave me, but it reminds me of her. Please."

"You would curse yourself. However angry you are, I know your honor. I know what it will do to both of you." Rage might linger, but once it passed, guilt would permeate. It would infest his life and he would regret that moment, holding it as firmly as she held Brandon and her father's death.

"How many died for you to reclaim Winterfell?" She asked him softly. Perhaps it was her guilt, but she couldn't hold Daenerys at fault or this war that she was bringing. It was reclaiming what was lost because of her, what had belonged to her family, which included her son. "No, I didn't, but perhaps she wouldn't be so ambitious if she had a home to begin with?"

She shook her head. "She's a part of you, whether you wish it or not."

And now the look he gives her is tired.

"I'm not going to kill her, but I'm not going to hold still and make it easier for her to stab me." At least when Ygritte had shot him full of arrows, there had been a fair argument that in some ways, he'd deserved it. He's been nothing but kind to Daenerys until he grew fed up with her.

He has a question of his own, and it's not a heated one. "Why are you taking her side? She hates me, wants me dead. She's done nothing but insult me. Tell her all these things you're telling me."

Something about all of this is inexpressibly sad, but he can't say why. Maybe it's because he's becoming more sure every minute that everything will end. Maybe it will end in Hadriel, too, if all of the parasite gods stay missing.

"Why would she stab you? Honestly, the pair of you are being ridiculous. I'm about to knock your heads together and lock you into a room until you sort this out. Stop squabbling like children. Do you want to act like Robert Baratheon?" She snorted, tearing off a bit of bread.

He wasn't nearly as bad as that, but there was a point to be made.

It wasn't a question that she expected, managing to catch her by surprise. "She doesn't hate you and I am not taking her side or yours. You both are acting like children when you should simply sort this out." They could not and would not have another Dance of Dragons.

"I will tell her these things, but I don't have an advantage to speak my mind with her as I can with you. I ruined and nearly destroyed her family."

He dead-eyes the suggestion that he might be acting like Robert Baratheon.

"She wants to stab me because she wants me dead. No competition for her precious seat. Lock us in a room and it might be that neither of us will come out alive. But I never wanted to kill her, I only wanted her far away.

"You can speak your mind to her: she doesn't live here anymore. You'll have to find her. But what on earth made you want one of them? A Targaryen?"

A dubious house, he seems to imply, dodgy all the way down.

She slapped her hand on the edge of the table, giving him a pointed look. "You are a Targaryen. Do not come to me and try to besmirch their name for it is the one we gave you. The one I chose for you with my last moments. Remember that before you go any further." It was a warning. He was her son, but she was not about to let him tear down his father's house.

"I wanted Rhaegar because I love him, because he is a good man that understood honor and kindness. He wasn't swept up in being a lord or above others, he genuinely cared about the people and about doing good. The only reason he is thought of as being a monster now is because of me." She shook her head. "He is a better man than any give him credit for."

She held his gaze, "And you are more like him than you think. Do not besmirch his House because of your anger."

He crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. There is no point in telling her any more of what he'd said to Daenerys about the blood they share: that it's poison, that he wants no part in it. There's no point in saying that it's too bad that, if Rhaegar was as good as that, he hadn't been around to rub off on his younger sister.

"I don't need to besmirch Daenerys. She's doing it herself.

"But fine. What do you propose I say to her, given that she doesn't want to talk to me, I don't want to talk to her?"

"I think that you need to sort out your thoughts and let this anger pass. You have closed your mind right now to her and you don't seem willing to think anything good of her. Let it fade and then speak to her again." Otherwise, the dragons would be dancing again and she was not about to watch that or watch her husband's house fall apart.

"In this space between you, find something good. Remember that others follow her, believe in her. They would not do that if there wasn't something. Sort it out, Aegon."

She sighed, "If it were my place, I would tell her the same. The two of you are the last hope for the House to continue. Don't let it end because of the throne."

He takes this with ill grace and a deep sigh. There's no anger burning in him, only his consistent annoyance with Daenerys, and growing disappointment that Lyanna seems incapable of understanding.

"This good in her: what do you think it is? She has followers, but they're brutes, or men who have had the spirit trained out of them. Might be the Dothraki want new lands to raid." He says that with a shrug. He's never met a Dothraki, but he saw them in Daenerys's memory.

"I saw her watch when her brother was killed. He was killed over her, did you know that? She didn't weep for him." He had liked Viserys, he thinks, in the few minutes he had seen of him. "So tell me, what is the good in her? How can I stop her from ending her own house? Don't think I can."

She doesn't know much about Daenerys' past, but she knew what it was to be responsible for the death of a brother. Did she weep when she received the news? It was hard to remember. So many deaths were her fault and there weren't enough tears for all of them. She couldn't judge the woman, perhaps it was because of her link to Rhaegar or because she sensed something good in her. Whatever Aegon was telling her now, it didn't have much impact.

"Was he? As your Uncle Brandon was killed over me?" She watched him carefully, wondering if he would make excuses for his mother but not Daenerys. "She is noble and understanding. She had no reason to forgive or speak to me, but she was gracious, willing to call me sister. I do not know her, but I know that welcome was not deserved on my part."

So there was something good. "She is kind to the Starks in your family. She seems to have bonded with Sansa. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"If it were true, it would mean something. But it's a lie -- it all must be a lie."

That's the only explanation that makes sense to him right now. He knows there was a time, a recent time, when it would have broken his heart to see the knife in Daenerys's fist, the threat to use it. But when he saw it, there was only contempt.

"Maybe she wants you on her side, maybe she's biding her time. Viserys trusted her; he begged her for his life. She said he would be given the golden crown he wanted, and then molten gold was poured over his head."

Why isn't his mother more worried for him?

"Is it? How can you? Do you not think Sansa is not capable of seeing a liar?"

None of them had been given much reason to trust someone. They had all been betrayed in some way or another. Whatever happened in Daenerys' past, however, she couldn't know the circumstances or the full story. She wasn't about to fully judge when Jon was angry and looking for her to join his side.

Neither of them were acting like adults and this fight would give her gray hairs.

"Then keep your distance for now until you both calm down. When you have your temper in check, talk to her again. We cannot afford to be divided here. We have seen monsters, ghosts and gods. This is not the time to be fighting each other."

"It's cruel, what she's doing to Sansa." He shakes his head. "I promised Sansa I would keep her safe. How can I, if I can't even recognize...?"

He leans forward now, his elbows on the table, his hands to his temples in frustration. It has not escaped him that he's dealing with a woman younger than Arya who can't seem to see reason. It isn't the time to be fighting each other. That's exactly why Daenerys's behavior, and who she is in her deepest soul, is so offensive to him.

"I won't kill Daenerys. But I won't talk to her again. She doesn't want to talk to me anyway."

Again, that inexplicable, inexpressible sadness. Shouldn't he be happy about this? For the rest of their time in Hadriel, she'll leave him alone. She'll keep her distance from his true family. Isn't that what he should want?

"How is it cruel? She is kind to Sansa, as much as Margaery Tyrell is. I have watched the two of them together and I see a natural friendship. Perhaps you do not like her, but do not decide for her."

She nearly scoffed and rolled her eyes, instead she pressed her face into her hands and gave a small groan. "You are being petulant, Aegon." She said, hardly feeling younger than him. If he wondered how she'd adjust to having an adult son, it clearly was no longer an issue. She found her way back to her infant. "But fine. Better you not talk than to start arguing again." Things would sort out before then, she hoped.

This was nothing more than a temper tantrum in her eyes.

"Think on all of this and rest. I hope my grown son emerges soon."

He gives her a long, silent look, and his expression is petulant indeed.

If she won't listen to him, if she doesn't understand the danger Daenerys poses, there's nothing much he can do about it.

Finally, he says, "Can I have my cheese? I was hungry."

He hasn't forgotten about the knife she took from him.

She pushed her plate of cheese to him, setting the knife next to her, giving him a pointed look.

No, no he could not have his knife back. Not when he was like this.

"Have mine. I lost my appetite."

He picks up a slice of cheese and eats it. Broodingly, in a thoroughly foul mood.

No one ever listens to him about the true threat.

A few days pass, days in which he mostly avoids people as well as he can, especially Lyanna.

Then the day comes when all his illusions fall away, and he's sickened by what he's done. He can be found in the living room of the shared house, seated, his cloak wrapped around him tightly to keep out the cold, and his communicator close at hand.

The change in him is visible, in that he's back to his usual self.

She could see the change in him within an instant. All she needed was for her eyes to linger on his face and see that the rage had melted away. The child was gone and the dark, brooding man returned. It was worse than seeing Ned in his bleakest moments. This paralleled Rhaegar when he was fighting his most somber moments.

She disappeared into the kitchen. Not long after, she returned with a bit of bread and cheese. She had wanted to have warm soup for him, the sort Old Nan would make when she was sick, but with no heat, this was the best she could manage. She slid it in front of him, pulling over a chair so she could sit at his side.

"You are waiting for her to speak to you?"

Edited 2018-12-30 22:43 (UTC)

He sighs, looks at her, then at the bread and cheese, then makes a little half nod and picks it up and takes a dispirited bite.

"Yes. No. In a manner. I sent a message to her; I'm waiting to see if she -- "

He shrugs. It's been a full day since he sent it. He didn't receive the sort of message that might imply that she's gone, but it hasn't stopped him from wondering about the many reasons that could explain her lack of any other response. Nearly all of them make him sick to his stomach.

"You will worry yourself sick."

She didn't know why Daenerys didn't respond yet, likely in need of time, but she wouldn't speculate. Her concern and focus was on her son, clearly going out of his mind. She knew his feelings during his rage, but they were more than obvious now. She may have missed his first steps or words, but she could at least witness his great love.

"You both said things you regret. It does you no good to wait by that device and watch for her. Put it down for now and speak to me. What happened?"

"Maybe I will," he concedes. Worry, and regret, and yet... he doesn't know how he could have done what he did, and from another angle, he doesn't know how he could have done anything else.

He sets the device aside, but not very far aside. It's within reach.

"You know what happened. I woke up one day a little over a week ago, and I hated her. I've never liked anyone less in my life. Men who have tried to kill me would have been a more welcome sight than she was.

"So the first day, I kept apart from her, and the second day, I went hunting. But the third day, there was nothing for it but to tell her how I felt."

He at least could let it go, even if it was a small distance away. She almost expected to see him on a widow's walk, watching for any sign of her. How much different was it than when Lyanna waited for Rhaegar's return to the Tower? She could understand that sort of love, perhaps fate would be kinder to her son, even if this world wouldn't be?

"Are these gods to blame? The ones that brought us here?" It would suit their games, from what she had heard. While she didn't know Jon that well, she knew him enough to know his behavior was not normal. That sort of anger didn't belong in him, no more than it belonged in Ned or Rhaegar.

"You both said things you regret. I only hope you understand what it was I told you before."

His little laugh is sad and, in its way, unpleasant.

"Aye. Confusion is here."

The room is a little warmer than it had been, but not warm. Since he found the little device that makes heat, he's been moving it from room to room. And he remembers the boats; he thinks that his break with Daenerys may have paid for it.

"Daenerys told me weeks ago that she wanted time to think, that she might never know what to say to me." What he means is: he doesn't know if she was compelled to say the things she said to him, as he was compelled in his cruelty to her, or if they were her true feelings.

That was understandable. What he told her was a great truth and changed the whole of her life and identity as much as it warped Jon. As much as she was glad Jon and Daenerys knew the truth, it was hard not to feel guilty for causing them such trouble.

"I wonder how you are not angry at me." She murmured, rubbing her arms, feeling the chill even with the small heater in the room. "You were both happy before I arrived." And clearly growing to love each other. The truth had a way of ruining such things. Ned suffered when he learned why Lyanna disappeared and the whole of his life was burdened with carrying her secret, tarnishing his honor.

"I'm sure that she didn't mean anything she might have said. She seems too good a woman to hold such grudges or blame you for my actions." After all, she was the one to blame. It was her sin and her secret, Jon had simply been the result of it.

He looks at his mother curiously, then shakes his head. “You didn’t choose to come here. You didn— it isn’t your fault. She and I met each other not knowing; we would have met each other not knowing at home. And I wouldn’t say that we were happy here, only...."

Only that on the little boat and during the storm, he had come to the conclusion that he loved Daenerys utterly. Part of him had wished he didn’t, that he could live with her like a brother, that things could be easy between them, with nothing to complicate them. But he thinks that that must also be a symptom of love. And the rest of him doesn’t want to be her friend, or her brother.

He’s felt something like this about a woman before, but not exactly so. It’s strange to feel it now, and to be the one who took the first steps to close the distance between them. And everything since then has gone all upended. Their last three conversations have all, in one way or another, been horrors.

“Only that it was this place that troubled us, more than ourselves. And she — she is a good woman. I don’t think she’ll blame you for what this place did, what it is, but... I was cruel to her. I said some things she might not be able to forgive. Told her that she'd climb over a mountain of bodies to take her precious throne."

"If she can forgive the actions of the past that lead to the destruction of her House, she can forgive a few cruel words that came about because of the manipulation of this world." She felt confident in that. While she didn't know Daenerys that well, she believed that she had to be similar to Rhaegar. For all the squabbles they had because of her hard headed nature, he always dismissed her anger, immediately forgiving her.

"It does you no good to simply wait around and obsess over this. You will drive yourself mad. You sent her word, yes? Walk away from your device for now. Spend time doing something else and when you return, she may have responded. She simply needs to sort out what happened."

There was little question that he would be forgiven. She had witnessed the two of them and how they spoke of the other. It was rather clear that whatever he felt, she did as well. That sort of love was difficult to conceal or ignore.

"Aegon, you must forgive yourself as well."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Wounded With The Wounder's Whip [CLOSED-ish, see note]

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LYANNA

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cw: just a renewed "Jon really has it bad for his aunt" warning

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