Fandom: Game of Thrones
Ship/Pairing: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Theme: moderngreekgods!au
Author’s Note: For @waking-dreams-of-harmony, who was awesome in getting her business done today. Her own edit that helps augment this drabble is HERE. I also want to shout out to @touch-of-mischief, because this gifset I once reblogged from her (though not her creation) helped spawn this lil ditty.
Enjoy!
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“Care to scoot over a bit?”
Daenerys looked up at the sound of the voice. And scowled at its owner. "Jentys Morgho."
The king of death nodded at her as if it was typical for him to frequent a pub on a Friday evening in Birmingham. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in an all-black tailored suit, which he liked to wear no matter the weather or century. His walking stick- carved obsidian with a steel skull on top- rested against his knee. With his dark hair and mustache, he cut an imposing figure amongst the other patrons.
"Kios," the god in question returned in greeting, his tone cavalier. His brow then furrowed. "Or do you go by Prosperina these days?"
She bit her tongue before answering. "It's Daenerys now."
The king of death stared, then broke into a smile as he raised his glass to her in a toast. "That does sound prettier than Prosperina."
She rolled her eyes. "And what do you call yourself now? Please tell me it's not Pluto again."
Her current source of annoyance scoffed as he took a long draw from his drink. "Nah, just call me Jon. Nice and simple."
"What are you doing here?" Daenerys insisted, not liking the apparent ease with which he insinuated himself into her current activities. "You know I don't appreciate you or your brothers interfering with my festivals."
The king of death- no, Jon- clicked his teeth with another of his infuriating smiles. "Well Dany-"
"Don't call me Dany."
"Daenerys," he continued, not missing a beat. "I didn't want to tell you this, but it turns out a few people here are actually scheduled for pickup within the next couple of hours."
He lifted his walking stick and pointed to a raucous group in the back corner. "The guy in the middle of festivities there is going to have a heart attack in the next forty-eight minutes. Whereas that young lady-" he pointed to a woman walking out the door, "is going to be in a drunk driving accident in the next nine hours."
"Do you always have to do personal retrieval whenever I patronize an event?" she retorted, trying to keep a hold of her temper. "You know how you affect them when you're near."
Jon chuckled as though she said the most amusing joke of the night. His eyes, however, remained stony and indiscernible. "I've been doing this longer than you have, little goddess. I don't need to be told what it costs for me to do my job."
"If you can manage to go a century without reminding me of how young I am compared to you, perhaps I can do my best not to remind you of your own abilities every time we meet," Daenerys retorted, her patience officially lost. "Stay away from the concert, Jentys Morgho. I mean it. And tell your brothers the same."
Summary: Daenerys tries to get herself and her brother out of an unfortunate situation.
Genre: Pirate!Jon AU
Note: This is an AU to my other Pirates!AU; here, Jon is a pirate captain who captured the Crown Prince and Princess of Portugal. This is my submission for the “Free Choice” prompt for Jonerys Week, which might become a full-blown story. Hope you enjoy this little excerpt~
The pirate presented the dress to her as if he was one of her own maidservants. When she didn’t make a move to take it from his hands, he pushed forward to lay it on the chipped table with a sigh.
“The cap’n invited you to dinner with him again tonight, Highness,” he said. “And he’s offered you a pretty dress to wear for the occasion.”
She kept her distance even as she eyed the dress. It was a rich, dark purple, with elaborate ruffles on the sleeves, bodice, and hem. A patch of sunlight poured through the window to highlight the telltale shimmer of silk. “I didn’t know your captain was a connoisseur of fine clothing.”
“If you wanna pay him compliments, I suggest you do so at the dinner table,” was the pirate’s tart response. “ ‘Cuz by now he knows better than to trust any compliments comin’ from me. Now do I have your word that you will attend or not?”
One of the girls behind her shifted, reminding her that some of them still felt uneasy in the presence of any of the men onboard. “Tell your captain I appreciate his attempt to make me think I have a choice.”
The pirate grunted and turned to leave. “He wasn’t wrong about that tart mouth o’ yours.”
“I assume my brother will be attending?” she inquired.
The pirate didn’t halt. “Ya sure that’s somethin’ to be happy about?”
The captain’s quarters that night was the same as it was the week before- spacious, with the same large table spread with foods that were luxuries to have on the high seas. There were the same candles set in their silver candlesticks, the small flames adding a rosy glow to the area around the spread.
And there was the captain himself, with that same look on his face as she was escorted through the door by a couple of his crewmen-- part indignant and part pleased.
“Was the dress not to your taste, Highness?” he asked, his voice inscrutable.
“I’m afraid that our taste in clothing is quite different,” Daenerys said as she took a seat, the material of her weeks-old dress brushing against the rough wood. “Though I am flattered that you thought of my comfort.”
He chuckled. “Not at all.”
She wasn’t fooled by his outward congeniality, but decided to hold her tongue. Her brother would surely make his appearance soon, and she didn’t want to sour the captain’s goodwill even further than what Viserys would no doubt accomplish.
It seemed the captain was not satisfied with the moment of respite. “Would it please you if I had my men bring you a dress to select for yourself, Highness?” He nodded at the two men near the door, and they exchanged looks with each other before exiting the cabin.
And leaving them alone.
“Surely your men have better things to do than ponder over a woman’s clothes.” Daenerys fought to still her panic. Why wasn’t Viserys here yet?
The captain leaned back slightly in his chair to further regard her. His fingers were tented before him and his legs crossed, looking for all the world at ease. The dark silk of his shirt and trousers seemed to absorb the candlelight that fell across his features.
Then his mouth quirked. “You needn’t worry, princess. I may be a terrible rogue, but I have my honor. You need not fear debauchery from Captain Jon Snow.”
She held his gaze, both indignant and disbelieving. How strange, she thought. He killed my men and threatens my country, and yet he acts like he’s concerned over my virtue and comfort.
The captain lifted his knife towards a large platter of fish in the center of the table. “Why don’t we eat?”
“My brother?” she inquired.
“Won’t be joining us this fine evening,” he supplied. “I would like a night of intelligent conversation for once.”
“He is the heir to the throne,” she reminded him.
Captain Snow lifted his goblet. “Then God have mercy on Portugal, for its next king certainly won’t.”
Daenerys stood from the table. Even for all the horrible and stupid things Viserys had done, he was still her brother. She could not let their enemies talk about him this way. “I demand to be returned to my quarters.”
The captain looked up at her from his seat, regarding her as he chewed. His dark eyes seemed to soften at her attempt to stand straight and tall under his perusal.
“I am sorry for any insults you have gathered from our conversation so far,” he said, surprisingly humble. “Won’t you please eat? I dislike having my guests go without.”
It still surprised her how this man could be rude and insulting in one breath and unfailingly polite in another. She almost was determined to go straight to her room anyway, but then remembered that it was now on her shoulders to discern a means of navigating her and Viserys’ current predicament.
“I thank you,” she said, nodding as she took her seat once more. Without hesitation she reached for a slice of meat covered in unfamiliar sauce. She felt the captain’s eyes on her as she took small bites, but when she lifted her gaze from her plate he was tucking in to some leafy vegetables with gusto.
For a while the only sounds were those of chewing and the clink of silver against delicate porcelain. She wondered if it had been stolen from one of her father’s ships. If she asked Captain Snow, would he give her a straight answer? Or find her concerns amusing, as he so often seemed to do?
She kept her eyes on her plate, but found her curiosity drawing their attention to the walls of his cabin. They were sparse, with flags from several different nations tucked in one corner. A small chest rested nearby, and a small table rested at the foot of the bed.
“Is the food to your liking, Princess?”
Captain Snow was staring at her again. She tried to hide her discomfort. “The food is to my liking, yes.”
He smirked. “I thought it was only your brother making you so quiet. Are you usually so unwilling to engage in conversation at the dinner table?”
She took a deep breath. “What do you want?”
The captain’s smirk was unmoved. “The same as before. The gold you two will fetch will go a long ways towards helping me and my men.”
“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that the Crown’s stolen gold and our ransoms will go towards altruistic purposes.”
Captain Snow chuckled. “And what would you know about that, lass?”
“I know that there is something you want more than gold and more than the humiliation of Portugal’s crown prince and princess.” She tightened her grip on her knife and fork as she took the plunge. “You want an end to the war.”
Captain Snow stopped chewing. He put down his knife and leaned back in his chair. Silence fell to fill the space between his contemplation and her anticipation.
“Are you trying to tell me that you know a way of ending hostilities between Scotland, England, France, and Portugal in one fell swoop?”
“I know I am but a young girl, unused to the ways of war and inexperienced besides.” Daenerys lifted her gaze. “But yes.”
“Is that a fact?” The captain didn’t bother to restrain his disdain. “Please, princess, do tell what magical solution you have that grown men twice your age have yet to come up with.”
“It’s all simple really. All you have to do is marry me.”
Of all the things Jon anticipated when inviting the princess to dinner tonight, an offer of marriage had no place on that list.
“Did I hear you right just now?” he asked, just to make sure.
The princess scowled. “Surely you are familiar enough with the implications of holy matrimony, despite your unfortunate occupation.”
“Holy matrimony usually ends in disaster for those in my unfortunate occupation, princess.” She really wasn’t joking. “What sort of madness is this?”
“The sort of madness that will peacefully end the discord between our persons and our countries,” the princess countered. She straightened in her seat, a habit Jon found to signal her attempt to be imposing. “Surely even you must consider that a better prize than gold.”
“I must consider nothing, especially when it’s a plan concocted by a lass who clearly has her corset laces too tight.” He couldn’t help his smirk at the thought. “Were you not my honored guest, I would gladly offer my services to relieve you of your obvious suffering.”
“You could relieve me of far more than that, were I to be your wife.”
His amusement stopped cold.
“Though of course there are certain things I would expect of my husband.” She stood up from her seat.
Seven hells.
Princess Daenerys wandered to a corner right to his left and began rummaging around. “Do you have a pen and paper available? It would be best to have our contract in writing.”
Seven quiffing hells, this woman was serious!
He pushed back from his seat and grasped her hand to halt her intrusion. It was slender and soft in his grip as he pulled her in to his form.
“While I’m flattered that you’re not too upset about jumping into my bed,” he murmured, his nose almost touching hers, “I think you should reconsider before we both do something we regret.”
To his satisfaction, a small quiver ran through her lips to her fingers. Those pretty eyes of hers darted to his hold, their feet, then finally back to his face. Was this her closest encounter with a man who was not that idiotic brother of hers?
“I did not expect you to regret Scotland being removed from a costly war,” she eventually said.
If demanding an alliance between Scotland and Portugal was all it would take for her to consider falling into his bed, he would’ve abandoned his plans for golden ransoms a long time ago. But he couldn’t help laughing as he stepped back to look her more fully in the eye.
“I wonder how you plan to announce your happy nuptials without all of Portugal declaring you mad,” he said. “Because I can tell you for a fact that all the houses and clans of Scotland would be bouncin’ with joy to have me kiss the gunner’s daughter if I breathe even a word of this.”
And that was the snag that the princess simply couldn’t see. Did she truly believe that either of their countries would suddenly accept a bastard lordling marrying into a house as pure-blooded as that of Targaryen?
“It is true that heads will turn,” Princess Daenerys admitted. She was looking down at her hands, clutching at the cloth of that ragged dress she insisted on wearing despite his attempts to allow her otherwise. “But I’m sure that several of my noblemen would change their minds at the betrothal gift you will bestow upon me. My father and king, most of all.”
“And what gift would that be, Your Highness?” Jon asked. The countries’ entire weight in gold? The Fountain of Youth? Or perhaps she thought a map of the city of El Dorado would not be too paltry a gift.
“Scotland’s complete and utter removal from the slave trade,” was her answer instead, and for the second time that night he could feel the wind knocked out of his body.
May the Lord help him, how was he to resist the idea of taking this extraordinary woman for wife when she would not stop taking his breath away?
Yato stiffened. Discreetly, he tried pulling up the rest of his loose robe. “I didn’t know you were so quiet.” Why didn’t Kazuma announce her presence? “Is there anything you need?”
Her eyes were uncompromising when he turned to face her. As always, she was elegantly dressed both in kimono and grace.
Without hesitation she stepped forward and placed her palm on the upper right corner of his back, where most of his prominent scar lay. Small fingers of it still tried to encircle some of the visible parts of his neck when he wasn’t careful enough about the clothes he wore.
“This was two summers ago,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Once again you were slipping through my fingers after our men exchanged heavy blows. I still remember choking on my fury as my swords landed on your shoulder.”
Instinct told him what was coming next. He snatched her hand away and held it in a tight grip.
Her eyes were hard. “Even now, I can’t imagine being forced to open my legs for the man who killed most of my clan. My family!”
“No one is forcing you to do anything, Princess,” he returned. “But if you’re telling the truth, who forced you to come to my bed these past nights? Do you want that person dead too?”
He dodged her slap, but in his current state of weakness he overstepped and stumbled, pulling both of them onto the futon.
His throat hitched. Her body was nestled on top of his in almost a bruising way. Those eyes, her strong grip on his arm, the curve of a thigh...all things he had admired about her from afar, and hated just as much.
He expected her to squeeze the life out of his throat.
He didn’t expect a kiss so bruising that it sucked the breath from his body.
Summary: He shouldn’t get involved with her. But she draws him in. (Pirates!AU)
Notes: I’m only doing this because I need more Jonerys content, even if it is my own rough drafts. Lemme know what you think and what has you confused.
“You probably shouldn’t be near me for too long,” Daenerys suddenly said. “Your lover wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“Is that a fact?”
She smiled, wide and slow. “For some reason, not a lot of women like to have me around their lovers. They seem to think that I perpetually lie in wait for the next man to take into my arms.”
A small breeze puffed its hot breath across the clearing. It fluttered the edges of her dress, the ivory cloth waving its flags across her ankles. He let his gaze fasten there.
“Are you?” he asked.
“Constantly taking other women’s lovers for my own?”
His eyes lifted at her mocking tone. Her smirk curled at the edges of her mouth.
“I suppose I’m safe with you, then,” he said, voice gruff. “As I have no lover to speak of.”
Her brow lifted. “I seem to recall a fearsome woman named Ygritte who would say differently.”
He couldn’t help the tightening of his jaw. “What is fact and what she says are two different things.”
“Oh?”
“Perhaps it would do me some good to stay in your presence for a little while longer, my lady,” he continued. “If that means getting her hands off my cock for one night, I would consider it a boon.”
This time Daenerys’ full attention was on him. “You’re saying that you don’t appreciate her attentions?”
“I don’t appreciate attentions that are clearly unwanted.”
She sat down. “I must say I’m surprised to hear that. She is a lovely girl.”
“She’d be more lovely if she actually respected my wishes and kept herself from my bed,” he nearly spat.
“You’re saying that she...forces herself on you?” Her tone wasn’t mocking this time. He looked at her face, and found only a need to understand.
It softened him up enough to speak more. “It’s not that I don’t want a lover. I just don’t want a lover who doesn’t at least have the courtesy to ask first.”
“Perhaps this girl is shy,” Daenerys suggested. “What if she asked, and you said no?”
“Then the answer is no. I don’t owe her my body, just as she doesn’t owe me hers.”
Daenerys smiled, and looked down at the moss-carpeted ground of the clearing. “It’s strange, hearing a man say that.” She looked back at him. “But not unwelcome.”
“Do you have problems with lovers who won’t accept the answer no?”
“Oh, many times. But they never became my lovers.” Her voice hardened to iron. “After my first experience, I made sure to never have a boor for a lover ever again.”
He watched her face, beautiful in the moonlight. The sounds of revelry still echoed throughout the air. What did she go through, exactly, he found himself wondering. How did she really get to where she is today?
Would it be a crime to follow her, after everything?
“I imagine a woman of your status is always wary of men who won’t listen to the answer no.”
“Always.” She turned her smile to him again, and his heart again skipped a beat.
He cursed his affectation at her outer loveliness. Why was he here? Mance’s crew was probably not looking for him at this moment. He could easily slip away, perhaps even find a way off this island. He turned to leave.
“So if a woman wants to be your lover...how would she ask?”
His heart nearly stopped in his chest. What?
She was standing now, her lovely form made even more lovely by those words she just uttered. But no, it couldn’t be… “Is that a question you truly want the answer to?”
“Of course not.” She drifted closer. “But you can’t blame me for being curious. I’ve never once had to ask someone to be my lover. I suppose I’ve always been drawn to men who have begged me instead.”
He swallowed. “I suppose if the woman knew where she stood in my eyes...she wouldn’t have to ask either.”
“Oh?” Her steps brought her right in front of his body, the heat of her skin rolling in waves across his own. “How would she know?”
“For one thing, her touch wouldn’t bother me.”
Slowly, she lifted her hands to cup his face. She quirked a brow, half-challenge, half-assurance. When he didn’t move to put them away, her smile widened. Her fingers inched down his neck, her palms smoothing over his shoulders and chest.
He was a fly caught in a web that trembled and alerted her to his lowered defenses.
When he suddenly gripped her waist, she let him draw her in.
“Is there something you want?” she whispered, her breath puffing across his lips.
Summary: Jon wants the throne. So does Dany. (AU)
Note: I just need Jonerys to have foe yay and bang. Sadly the second part doesn’t happen here, though maybe there’s more to come.
"I suppose you're used to getting whatever you want, using that smile."
Her hands tightened around his. She looked up at him, but he didn't give her time to acknowledge his sudden statement.
"Anyone in this court tells you no, all you have to do is twitch your lips and they'll be too dazzled to remember saying yes." His grey eyes stared at her, through her, their grip unfaltering. "I imagine it a useful tool to have in King's Landing."
She looked off to the side, where several revelers were enjoying wine of Dorne and the Arbor all at once. "I do hope you were not as direct with your other dancing partners. They might not have been as accepting of your observations."
"I would think a compliment easy to accept."
"Easier than a threat, I'm afraid."
His hand curled on her waist, fingers securing a stronger grip. "You think I'm threatening you?"
"It is not uncommon of a man to deliver threats by listing his opponent's arsenal." She looked up at his contemplative expression and slowly, deliberately, smiled. "Though I am pleased we both agree that my arsenal is not a poor one."
His eyes darkened. "I am pleased that you are pleased." He leaned closer until their heads almost touched as they twirled, stepped, twirled once more. "Though I must confess that pleasure somewhat lessened by the knowledge that we are opponents."
He straightened, even as his hand slipped below her waist to linger on the upper half of her bottom. She did not startle. Instead she moved even closer, taking satisfaction from the begrudging admiration that raised his brows.
"Can a crow and hawk share a nest? Can a tomcat and his rival feed on the same game?" His chest was a warm wall against her own. "Can wolf and dragon both be king of the same den?" she asked, her voice a soft caress.
He tightened his grip on both her hand and rear. His frown was a victory that sparked the surge in her blood.
"It’s not too hard to discern your motives, dear nephew. Not when they coincide so greatly with my own. Like calls to like.”
“Do not presume to know me,” was his warning response.
She paid it little heed. “You think I don't know of what it is to be denied the best, refused your own potential, merely because of the circumstances of your birth?" This time as they twirled, their faces were properly directed towards the opposite sides of the room. "You had the great fortune of being born a second son. I had the great fortune of being born without a cock. It's not so similar, but in some ways it's not so different either."
"You reach for what you cannot have."
"As do you, King Across the Sea."
The next turn they took was sharper, cutting across the path of another pair whose startled movements reminded her of geese frightened into taking wing. "You're not as smart as you think you are," he said baldly, "telling me this. Not even your loveliest smile would persuade me from taking what I want."
"Perhaps not my smile," she admitted. She moved closer until their forms were full against each other's, the hand on his shoulder now moved to the edge of his jaw as she stared deliberately. "I imagine it would take much more than that to get you out of my way."
His smile was mocking. "Are you threatening me, darling aunt?"
"I would think a compliment easy to accept."
The last strains of music faded, and the dancers separated so the men could bow over the women's hands. Jon was slow to detach himself, exhaling once more so she could feel her breasts move against his own chest.
"You intrigue me, lovely princess," came the low intonation over her hand as he bowed. "It would honor me greatly if we could continue this discussion at a later time." He straightened and looked at her with purpose. "Perhaps a morning ride, after breakfast?"
She curtsied, proper smile in place. "It is you who honor me, sweet prince."
His small smirk almost revealed the scoff locked away.
Summary: Jon would tolerate her at his side. Dany wants more| (AU) | [Part 1]
Note: I didn’t exactly get to the smut as I wanted in the first part, but at least there’s a wee bit more romance?
"The gods be damned," he swore, catching his breath with each sharp rise of his chest. He glared up at Daenerys' smirk. "I almost feel sorry for the unfortunate sod who'll be your husband."
"Why?" Her breasts pushed further into him as she trailed a fingertip down the sweat on his neck. He tried to suppress the quivers running through his body, and was entirely unsuccessful.
"Any time that man disagrees with anything you say, a twitch of your thighs on his and he'll be too busy babbling to himself to prevent you from doing what you want."
Daenerys huffed out a laugh that almost sounded genuine. "Much like you right now?"
He tightened his hold on her hips. "I'm just letting you know that you have learned your lessons a little too well."
"Mmm..." She leaned in to place an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, and then another. "I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind. He might even give you his utmost thanks."
"Oh yes, I'll thank myself every day and night for this lesson."
He felt her freeze in his arms. When she finally pulled back to look him in the face, there was a look in her eyes that he'd rarely seen before- bewilderment.
Jon didn't let that stop him. "Marry me."
"So that you could spend some more time between my thighs?" she joked. Her hand tightened its grasp on his shoulder. "Is this an offer you present to all your enemies, Jon?"
He exhaled. "I’m not sure being enemies is the smartest move.”
Daenerys moved back further, both hands now resting on his chest as her eyes searched his. “You have a better option in mind?”
“Both of us have formidable allies. You’ve made sure to befriend the Eyrie and Riverrun and Storm’s End, along with probably all the common folk of the realm. I have friends in Winterfell and Highgarden, along with the good favor of the Free Cities. Together our crown could unite the realm and foster peace across the sea.”
“You don’t sound so certain,” Daenerys noted, looking entirely unconvinced. “And our crown? Last I heard there was only one throne.”
“Even when the Conciliator sat the throne, the realm was convinced his Queen held his scepter,” Jon persisted. “Who says that we could not be the same?”
“And yet somehow the only deeds of Alysanne that I hear sung are those she managed to wheedle out of her king,” Daenerys retorted, her face a mask of stony discontent. “I will not wheedle policies from your thighs, Jon, no matter how enjoyable either of us find the activity.”
She disentangled herself from him and moved off the bed to collect her robe from the carpeted floor. He tried to tamp down the smugness he felt as she wavered unsteadily on her feet, but it bled out into his voice as he commented, “You couldn’t possibly have not seen this coming.”
“This?” Her back was still turned to him, stiff and unforgiving.
“This marriage proposal. If not me, it would’ve been your cousin, or perhaps my more amicable brother. I’m sure even Viserys had thought of it more than once. You’re too great a prize to be left in the bag, Daenerys.”
She slowly turned around, hands gripping the folds of her robe. “The more you talk, the less romantic your proposal.”
“Did you expect anything romantic when it came to your marriage?” He scoffed. “You are the blood of the dragon, with a much larger bargaining price than seen in most princesses that came before you. Did you expect some fool who composed songs for you, or gave you roses each night?”
“Perhaps a fool is exactly what I want.” Her serious tone confused him. “A fool is easier to rule. A lovable fool is even better.”
Something about her phrase did not sit well with him. “I’m sure a lovable fool is very convenient for you,” Jon snapped, “until you wish for affirmations of loyalty or the stability of the kingdom. I doubt you would have much use for your roses and songs then.”
Daenerys just stared, her violet eyes incomprehensible. She did not move or twitch a muscle in her determined gaze.
Then it struck him.
“That is what you want,” he breathed. His mind churned violently, racked by his shock. “You want roses at your door and songs at your feet. You want poems about your eyes and cut locks of hair.” He found it hard to control his incredulity, so profound was his surprise. “You want it all.”
She turned from him. “Is it so surprising, that I would? Do women in Essos not dream of love and its tokens?”
“Women in Essos, yes.” He fixed his gaze on his hands. “You, I never imagined.”
The silence stretched between them. Finally, Daenerys said, “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”
“You will, will you?”
“Of course.” He looked up to meet her insincere smile. “If I win the council’s approval.”
“If you win the council’s approval,” he repeated.
“Should I be crowned Queen, I would need an able prize like you by my side. Other than Quentyn Martell to bring in Dorne’s goodwill or Tyrion Lannister to secure the loyalty of Casterly Rock, I can think of few other prospects as advantageous.”
He exhaled, flummoxed and naked. “And if I win?”
“If you win the crown, I would not deign to keep you from making your choice. Surely another girl out there exists with greater ties to the power you seek. To keep you from such happy options seems almost cruel.”
When he did not answer, she continued with her tirade, merciless. “Surely you saw this happening. You are almost too good a prize to slip from my grasp.”
“And if neither of us gets the crown?” he retorted, irritated by her echoed insinuations.
She evenly met his gaze. “Then I suppose neither of us will get what we truly want, will we?”
Summary: She is a conqueror, and he a mere bastard of a prince. (Conqueror AU)
Note: I wrote this a while ago for a very old idea I had, in which Dany was a conqueror heading towards the still-divided kingdoms of Westeros and Jon was the bastard prince sent by his brother the king to help forge an alliance.
However, I kinda abandoned the idea after a while because this AU idea ended up being split into two AUs and Jon went unexpectedly dark in a later draft...yeah, just. Hope you enjoy anyway. Again, only posting this because I need more Jonerys content like I need the next box of Nutella & Go.
The servant led him to a door that was heavy, wooden, and carved with all sorts of creatures he had never seen before. There were two guards posted there, and they barely spared a glance before pulling on the door’s double bronze handles. Scented steam poured through as the doors cracked.
They moved down a sloping corridor of carved stone. Its heat brushed against him as they walked, and not for the first time did he feel overdressed in his heavy cloak.
It was at a sheer, peach curtain that they stopped. It wavered slightly at their approach.
“Our queen awaits you through this doorway, Highness.” The servant bowed her head to him, a small smile on her lips. He nodded at her in return, then pushed through the curtain with all his senses on edge.
The Isle of Maidentears--now known as Queensclaw-- was famous for its deep winding catacombs of hot springs even as it was infamous for the black hearts of its inhabitants in the recent past. He couldn’t help but look around in wonder at the dripping pools of water, even as he wondered why the queen would deign to host a diplomatic meeting in here of all places.
Bubbles of conversation floated from behind a large rock, and he pushed through the sweltering steam. “Your Grace?”
The conversation trickled away. “You may approach.”
He took a deep breath and turned the corner towards her voice.
And found the queen sitting in a large pool, handmaidens on either side, her neck and shoulders bare.
His eyes barely swept over that expanse of skin before he had turned so that his back faced her nakedness. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” he choked out. “I was unaware that you were taking a bath.”
The beat of silence afterwards tortured him with a million possibilities of how everything could go wrong. Then, “Ladies, if you would leave us. I have matters to discuss with the Prince of Winter.”
Even when he heard the handmaidens’ affirmation and the shuffle of their footsteps as they walked away, he did not dare to turn his head. He had half a mind to leave himself, whatever consequences may spring up besides.
“You may approach,” she repeated into the quiet. The amusement in her voice was unmistakable.
He exhaled sharply, irritation sparking. “Your Grace, perhaps we should meet at a better time--”
“This is a better time. I will wait no longer. As I said before, Jon Snow--you may approach.”
The command in her voice made him turn not from compliance, but from irritation boiling over him in a sudden wave. “Do you always conduct meetings with diplomats from the bath?”
Something flashed in the silver queen’s expression, so quick that he would have missed it if he wasn’t exerting so much effort to keep his eyes on her face. “You have the honor of being the first diplomat invited.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Especially when one of her smooth arms rippled the water as she gestured towards him.
“I will be frank, Jon Snow.” Several strands of hair slipped from its gathered pile on top of her head, their curls caressing her neck. “Your brother is not offering me anything worth having in this alliance.”
Those words made his observations stop short. “My brother has offered to not raise up arms against you in your conquest, as well as several suitable trade agreements should you succeed--”
“Words are wind, Jon Snow.” Her eyes were lavender gems set in her flushed, stern face. “I am a queen of pirates. We know intimately how honor from a king can shift as often as chaff in the wind. What proof do I have that this alliance will stand? Why should I not bring your brother’s kingdom to heel with the others I shall conquer?”
A deep offense cut into him. “You dishonor my brother, Your Grace. No King of Winter would dare turn his back on his word. In House Stark, our word is our bond and our vow is our law.”
“Until it suits you, as can be evidenced by your late father’s actions against my own father.” Her eyes narrowed. “And as can be evidenced by your very presence on my isle. I was promised an entreaty with a king. Instead I am sent a prince.”
His throat worked. “As I’ve said before, my brother the King is currently dealing with troubles that plague our land from within. If my presence here offends you--”
A wave of her hand quieted his entreaty. “I’m not displeased, if that’s what you believe. I know that sending you was quite the sacrifice on his part. Not many kings would send his most able general to treat with a barbarian queen right when he is dealing with the cusp of a civil and outside war all at once.” Her elbows braced on the edge of the pool as she looked directly into his eyes with a smile that was both wry and amused. “Of course, surely you can’t expect me to believe that the word of House Stark is truly infallible after all I’ve just mentioned?”
And more besides. He knew, as surely did she, that some promises had to be broken for the greater good. Robb had faced many such difficult decisions throughout his reign so far. To insist on any house being truly just and without censure was folly, as this queen had gently pointed out.
But that did not mean their cause was lost. “Your Grace, what we offer is as much a boon to you as it is to us. It is true that your fleet is larger than that of several of our kingdoms’ combined. It is also true that without our help, your men would surely conquer without fail. But what you need is not only the power to conquer. You need the goodwill of a country’s people to rule. You need to be able to hold each castle without inciting rebellion amongst its subjects.”
Her gaze was thoughtful, contemplative. Emboldened, he continued, “An alliance with the kingdom of Winter would ensure that. We know the lands to our south better than you can. With our forces combined with yours, we will cut the power of the southern kingdoms by half. And once the North is free of attack from the southern kingdoms and you find yourself a throne pretty enough to sit upon, our friendship will ensure a lasting prosperity.”
“A lasting prosperity?” the queen echoed. Slowly, she lifted one leg, and the sight of its bareness made his breath stop. “That’s what concerns me.”
“Your Grace?”
“I need better assurances from this Young Wolf of Winter. And it seems that he unknowingly sent me one.” She looked directly at him with a smile that could disarm walls and spears. “You.”
The words slowly unfurled as if revealed to him from across the Great Chasm.
“I am carrying your child.”
She was curled away from him after almost spitting like a cat. But there was no denying the tenderness in her words. Tenderness for the child they made together.
He stared at her stomach and allowed his senses to be on full alert. Almost immediately he felt the inevitable pull and tug of power and nature.
The seed of a new god.
Without thinking he placed his hand against her stomach. Chi-Chi startled, but let him do so with a touch of confusion in her eyes.
How could he have missed this? Was he so lost in Chi-Chi and her people? It should have been easy for him to notice this as soon as the baby was formed.
He snatched his hand away as realization chilled him.
“Goku?”
Her frightened voice saying his alias again snapped his attention back. Her eyes were wide. “Why are you so afraid?”
He swallowed. “My brother.”
If his child’s power as this easy to sense, then there was a chance that Vegeta already knew. And he would not appreciate the birth of a new god at all-- not if it meant disrupting the shaky balance set in place after they overthrew their fathers.
“Your brother?” Chi-Chi’s confusion was plain. “You mean...Sleep?”
He shook his head. “No, not Raditz. My other brother, the heavens. Chi-Chi, we can’t stay here any longer. If Vegeta found out about our child...” He didn’t finish that thought, because he would never let it happen.
He would keep Vegeta in the dark forever if he had to.
