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Imagine supporting Sansa during the war council.
You listened, face stoic as the advisors crowded around the table took stock of the situation. Half of the Dragon Queen’s troops gone in the battle, and half of the Northmen. It could have been much worse, you knew, but the knowledge that the battle could have gone worse did little to assail the concerns for the fight to come. Cersei had the benefit of having not just fought a difficult battle as well as the Golden Company and the Greyjoy fleet. You had the benefit of two dragons.
Sansa stood beside you, your shoulders nearly brushing in the cramped circle. It would have been all too easy to reach out and take her hand in yours to offer some small comfort, but you restrained yourself, keeping your hand firmly on your cane and the other against the edge of the broad table for support. Sansa had asked one of the craftsmen to make you a proper cane, one with a narrow blade hidden within (at Arya’s suggestion) and the pommel carved in the style of Jon’s sword Longclaw. The man had done a magnificent job, so much so that you almost felt poorly for praying you would not need it for long.
“We will hit her hard. Rip her out root and stem,” the Dragon Queen spoke. You tilted your head at her, still trying to get a read on the woman. You had heard the stories. It was hard not to. The Targaryens had a history that had been written in fire and blood over three hundred years long. Their house has seen many rulers, both brutal and benevolent. People spoke of the gods flipping coins. You knew the stories of her house, and you had heard the stories of her. Jon and Tyrion spoke of her kindness, her strength, the great obstacles she had overcome. But it seemed to you as though you had seen little of her kindness since she had come across the sea. She seemed more reasonable than Cersei, that much was easy enough to admit. She had been willing to speak, and willing to help, sacrificing much in the battle against the dead. But still you had your reservations. It pained you. You wanted to believe in her, to see what Jon and Tyrion saw. You longed to feel their confidence in the Dragon Queen, to believe that all that had to be done was to oust Cersei and then everything would be alright once she took the throne instead.
Perhaps it was the fact that she seemed to expect so much for her so-called benevolence that rubbed you the wrong way. Helping the fight against the White Walkers should have been common sense, not something that needed to be bargained for. Or perhaps that was the stubborn part of you that still wanted to believe the problems of the world had simple solutions.
“The objective here is to remove Cersei without destroying King’s Landing,” Tyrion reminded softly, his eyes on the map spread before you before shifting to Daenerys.
“Thankfully, she’s losing allies by the day. Yara Greyjoy has retaken the Iron Islands in her queen’s name,” Varys said, perhaps to smooth over the moment of tension. “The new Prince of Dorne pledges his support.”
“No matter how many lords turn against her, as long as she sits on the Iron Throne, she can call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We need the capital.”
You almost snorted as you took the opportunity to speak your mind. “How much does the title alone matter if no one is there to support her? If her people are turning against her, all we have to do is wait. Let her have the bloody title for what, another month? Two? Soon enough it’ll be all she has, and a title does little to stop a sword when there’s no one left to guard it.”
Tyrion’s gaze shifted to you for a moment. “I watched the people of King’s Landing rebel against their king when they were hungry, and that was before winter began. Give them the opportunity, and they will cast Cersei aside.”
“We’ll surround the city,” Jon added, “If the Iron Fleet tries to ferry in more food, the dragons will destroy them. If the Lannisters or the Golden Company attack, we’ll defeat them in the field.”
“Once the people see that Cersei is our only enemy, her reign is over.”
Daenerys didn’t even seem to listen to Tyrion’s words, her eyes only for Jon. You watched some of her tension and anger soften. “Alright.”
Now it was Sansa’s turn. “The men we have left are exhausted. Many of them are wounded. They’ll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate.”
The hardness had returned to the Dragon Queen’s expression as she turned her gaze towards Sansa. You immediately decided you didn’t like the way she looked at her. You gripped your cane harder and you felt your jaw tighten as you fought the urge to move closer. “How long do you suggest?”
Sansa glanced to you, her gaze pulling your eyes to her. You cleared your throat and straightened a bit, or as best you could given the circumstances. “It’s hard to say. I’d have to discuss it with the officers and maestres. We’re still trying to take full stock.”
You could almost make out the slight curl to Daenerys’s mouth, the faintest hint of a snarl on her lips. “I came North to fight alongside you at great cost to my armies and myself. And now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone.”
Sansa spoke before you could. “It’s not just our people, it’s yours. You want to throw them into a war they’re not ready to fight?”
“The longer I leave my enemies alone, the stronger they become.”
“With all due respect, that’s not the impression I’ve gotten.” You held the Dragon Queen’s gaze, your own expression hard even as you forced your tone to remain calm. “Believe me, there are few people who would like to uproot Cersei as much as I would, but it seems to me like the longer we wait, the weaker her grip becomes, and the more prepared we are. She’s losing allies. The people will turn against her any day now.” You paused and swallowed, choosing your words carefully. “We’re not suggesting we do not appreciate everything you’ve done in this battle, or that we are not in your debt because of it. We are asking you to consider this calmly, and to focus your anger where it belongs. Cersei is your enemy. The people of King’s Landing are not, and neither are we. We all want Cersei gone. Our best chance of accomplishing that doesn’t involve rushing off to battle unprepared.”
Silence fell for a beat, your gaze locked with the Dragon Queen. Her eyes seemed to burn into you, daring you to look away but you held your ground.
“The Northern forces will honour their promises and their allegiance to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” You turned as you felt Jon’s gaze fall on you and Sansa, a warning in his expression that caused frustration to flare quick and hot in your stomach. You opened your mouth, an argument ready to fall from your tongue but you felt Sansa’s hand brush yours and thought better of it, snapping your jaw shut. Jon hadn’t even noticed as he looked back to Daenerys. “What you command, we will obey.”
The rest of the meeting fell on deaf ears, your eyes darting between Jon and the Dragon Queen as you focused your efforts on not letting your irritation show on your face. He had known this woman, this Dragon Queen for a matter of what, a handful of months? And yet he had still chosen to side with her over people he had grown up beside, people who had known him for most, if not all of his life? Had his infatuation with her made him as unwilling to listen to reason as she was? Part of you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he finally listened. It was fine to want to honour his promise. It was fine to want to trust this woman. It was not fine to do so blindly, ignoring the concerns of all those who might disagree. The Dragon Queen clearly listened to him. It was his duty to act as a voice of reason, something you would have to remind him of before he got all of you killed.
