Fated Allegiance | A Jonerys Secret Santa story
Moodboard by @adecila
For @doodlebug-qt
It’s me, your Secret Santa! I really hope you will like your gift. 😊
At first, I tried to write a canon-compliant fic, but it wasn’t turning out that good, lol. So, I decided to turn it into an arranged marriage AU. I hope you don’t mind this little spin to your prompt!
Have a lovely Christmas, my dear! ❤️❤️❤️
READ IT ON AO3
Preview:
Daenerys gripped the rail of the ship with gloved hands. There was a chill in the air she wasn't used to, the cold salted spray of the sea causing the pale skin of her cheeks to redden. She could feel Tyrion's eyes on her, and she knew her Hand was clever enough to read into her anxiety.
"Don't worry, my Queen," he finally spoke, no doubt aware of the cause of her turmoil. "I met the King in the North when he was nought but a boy and I liked him. Kind, reliable, honourable, if a bit naive. But he was only fourteen at the time, no doubt he had more than one occasion to grow out of it if he ended up with such a title despite being a bastard."
For a long time, Daenerys had known she would need to marry in Westeros. She wasn't ingenuous, she always knew she would need to strengthen her position in the eyes of the Westerosi lords through marriage.
Her clever Hand had been corresponding with his former wife, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, to broker a marriage with her half-brother, Jon Snow, the King in the North. It was the best strategical match, Tyrion assured, with little competition in a continent that had been depleted of eligible suitors by a long succession of foolish, bloody wars.
Jon Snow would bring her the support of the entire North, the biggest and most difficult to control of the Seven Kingdoms, and through his sister, the support of the Vale and the Riverlands, too. It was more than she could hope for than any other match in the entire country, and in addition, the Starks had every reason to despise the False Queen's rule and to desire Cersei's demise.
Daenerys had immediately agreed with the betrothal, its strategical advantages clear as daylight. Still, the young woman beneath her queenly persona couldn't help but feel nervous at the prospect of accepting to marry a man she never even met.
She wasn't scared – she was a dragon, after all, and the gods help those who would bring her harm ever again – but a tiny part of her regretted not having the freedom to let her heart decide – to hope that there would be someone out here that she could love and would love her in return, that would love Dany as much as the imposing Mother of Dragons.
Up in the sky, Drogon reflected her emotional turmoil, giving a mighty screech above their heads. Her heart reached out to him through the tether of their bond.
“I had to marry for politics before, my Lord Hand. I'm not all too worried about it,” she finally said. Tyrion gave her a knowing glance, turning to look silently at the horizon, where the sun reflected on the walls of White Harbor, casting a shine to where her future lied.
