#s8 fic

Mulder sits on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him for warmth, knees drawn up towards his chest. Scully notes there’s a black shadow that sits between his thighs and chest.

“William,” he mutters, sounding out his name once more. “William, William, William.” His finger strokes the baby’s cheek. “Mine,” he says in awe. “You’re mine.”

Warmth runs through Scully, ridding her completely of any prior panic or worry she had felt before. William was gone from his crib but she needn’t have worried, he was safe here with Mulder.

She must have made a sound for William startles, a brief moan falling from his mouth, and Mulder’s head darts up. Their eyes connect across the room and Scully smiles apologetically for disturbing their moment.

“Come here,” says Mulder gently, a moment later and without a seconds thought she is going over to them.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he says when she sits.

Scully shakes her head, not quite sure what it was that actually woke her. Maybe it was just the absent presence of William in the room.

“Neither of us could sleep so I thought…” He shrugs, looking down at William.

However startled he might have been, he got over it quickly. His eyes shut, mouth slightly open, tiny specs of saliva falling from his mouth. Scully smiles at the sight.

“What were you saying to him before?”

She keeps her gaze on William, remembering what she had heard, knowing she had missed the beginning. Will you take care of her while I’m gone? She didn’t like what it implied.

“I, um…” She hears his stutters and her stomach clenches even more. Whatever he has to say, it isn’t good, like she suspected.

His hand touches her cheek, fingers soothing across the skin like he did earlier with William. The action makes her look up, imploring him.

“I don’t think it’s fair to drag William or you around the country with me,” he says. The air grows stale, his touch on her skin cold. What was he saying?

“He- you both- deserve be surrounded by family. I don’t have family anymore, it’ll be easier for me to disappear.”

Scully shakes her head, not wanting to hear it. “We’re your family, Mulder,” she states, looking down at William then back at him.

He smiles, reaching to grasp her hand. “Yes you are,” he agrees. She can still hear the awe laced in his voice. “And that’s why I’m telling you this. If anything where to happen to you or to Will while we were on the run, I couldn’t live with that, Dana, I couldn’t live with myself.” She can hear what he’s saying but she doesn’t want to believe it. She tries to feel angry over the decision instead, letting it build in her chest, preparing herself to lash out at him.

“I know you see reason Scully,” he’s saying and she shuts her eyes against his words because Yes! Yes, she does see reason. “Don’t let your hurt get in the way of that.”

Her fists clench as she turns away, feeling the tears start to well. Mulder reaches for her hand once more.

“I don’t want our last night to be spent with you hating me, Scully.”

She lets out a breath, her eyes reopening and looks down to William soundly asleep, unaware of the turmoil around him.

“This is why you couldn’t sleep?” she asks.

He nods. “Partly.” At her questioning look he explains. “I don’t want morning to come.”

It dawns on her then. He doesn’t want to leave and why would he want to? If they lived any other life, lived as any other people, this situation wouldn’t have presented itself. They could stay here, a happy family, safe in their home.

But they weren’t safe in their home. Mulder wasn’t safe in this home. His being here now was dangerous, to himself and to them. A man wandering alone was much more conspicuous than a man, a woman, and a baby. Mulder going alone would protect him and them.

If something were to happen to you or Will, I couldn’t live with that, I couldn’t live with myself.

He didn’t want to leave, but necessity forced him too, she knew that now.

Scully stands, wiping at her nose and eyes and reaching her arms out towards the bundle Mulder holds.

“I’m going to put him back to bed,” she says and Mulder nods, passing William to her.

He’s stretched out when she returns, his stare glued on the light from outside the windows. Dawn. Morning was near.

Scully climbs onto the couch, slides herself along his body, head coming to rest on his shoulder. His arms wrap around her, face falling into the top of her head. He’s warm, a furnace constantly turned on, and Scully finds herself succumbing to sleep but like Mulder, she too doesn’t want morning to come.

“When will I see you again?” she whispers into his shoulder.

“I’m not sure,” he replies honestly. “But I’ll try to keep in contact when I can, when it’s safe.” His hand absentmindedly trails up and down her arm and Scully struggles to keep the sleep away. “I won’t forget you, Dana.”

She snuggles into him, eyes closed, breathing in his scent. She won’t forget him, either.

“I’ll try to send you pictures of William growing up, I’ll tell him about you.” She won’t let William forget who Mulder is.

He presses a kiss to her temple, whispers, “Thank you.”

Mulder lets out a deep breath, and sleep is tickling her feet by this point, she’s ready to slip under.

“You should sleep Scully,” he says. “You need it.”

He wasn’t wrong, a harrowing birth such a William’s, her body needed to restore itself. Besides, she’ll be woken up in a few hours by an angry, hungry baby. Yet, there was one more thing she needed to tell him.

“Mulder.”

“Yes?”

“Please be here when I wake up.” There’s a small hesitation but he squeezes her in his arms.

“I will be,” he promises.

With a smile Daenerys leaves Jorah and walks towards Jon. The white landscape and the cold makes her uncomfortable but she will never admit it. What is a little snow and winter wind to a dragon made of fire? Jon remains facing towards Winterfell when she finally arrives at his side.

“We are almost there. I am eager to meet your family, Jon Snow.”

Jon hums his agreement. 

They’ve stopped to arrange any last minute details before arriving at Winterfell. Her children were sent somewhere close to the keep but far away enough to not cause panic. Jon had insisted. She was loathe to part from them but ultimately yielded. He probably knows the northerners better than she. Tyrion, and Varys are discussing some trivial matters with the Unsullied about what to expect in regards to their welcome. Details, details, details. I’m tired of waiting. 

Daenerys touches Jon and gently turns him away from Winterfell and towards her. He moves stiffly in the cold. I will be sure to warm him up later in his Lord’s chambers. “You have been awfully quiet. More so than usual. Should I be worried?”

Jon’s eyes slowly warm at her words. The corner of his lips upturn in a reassuring smile. No wonder Jorah is jealous. His worry over her is obvious now. In her very rare moments of worry, or anxiety he is always there to reassure her. She is quite sure he is in love with her. She herself doesn’t love him. Yet. I could. I am in danger of it. I feel it.

“No. There is nothing to worry about. I will speak with the Northern lords and make them understand that you are here to fight with us.” He pauses to collect his thoughts. “They will see you for what you are.”

Those words again. Just like before they light a fire within her. He sees her for what she is. A liberator. A savior. A queen.

His queen. 

The breaker of chains looks up at the last King of the North. He looks like he is holding himself back from a great emotion. He must want to hold me now. Daenerys wouldn’t care but he has been adamant in avoiding any kind of public intimacy for fear of repercussion to their political alliance. She admires his patience and fortitude. As mother of dragons she forgets how it must be for the rest of the world. To always have to care what others think or do. To not take without asking. Always waiting for permission. What a bleak existence that must be. 

A shout from behind breaks their tension. It is time to move again. Jon nods at her and leaves to mount his horse.

Daenerys watches his cloak flap behind him like  black wings. Soon she’ll meet his people. His family. Soon she’ll learn more about the king who gave away his kingdom for love. For me. 

//

It’s cold and the days are getting shorter. Gilly is used to it so she doesn’t complain. Everyone is in a frenzy. A horn of some sort is signaling the arrival of Jon Snow and his aunt. Daenerys Targaryen. The name sounds funny to her but what does she know of queens and dragons? 

“Gilly, come! He’s here!” 

Gilly looks at Sam in mild bemusement. He sounds like a child in his excitement. Gilly adjusts Little Sam on her hip and follows him to the railing that overlooks the courtyard. There is so much noise that Little Sam squirms in curiosity but Gilly strengthens her hold. It wouldn’t do for him to leave her arms. Not with soldiers and dragons in their midst. 

“Where are the dragons, Sam?”

His eyes never waver from the action underneath. “Eh, I don’t know. Perhaps they’re waiting somewhere in the Wolfswood?”

Sam’s words do nothing to assuage her concern. She has never seen a dragon. But she has seen creatures of ice. She isn’t sure that creatures of fire are any better. 

There is a change in the air and Gilly focuses on the men and women in the courtyard. There are soldiers in black leather with dark, sun-kissed skin she has never seen before. Exposed skin and no furs? How are they not freezing? Their armor is useless this far north. 

A head of white, yellowish hair stands off by the entrance to the keep. She, for Gilly can see her fair features, is surrounded by guards. That must be the dragon queen. Then where is Jon Snow...

Gilly finds him. His head of black hair is walking towards Sansa Stark. Gilly inhales her surprise. The Lady opens her arms and holds Jon Snow in a welcoming embrace. In the small amount of time Gilly has been in Winterfell she has noted how restrictive Sansa Stark is with her affection and touch. Gilly brushes Litte Sam’s hair back. She doesn’t think she has ever seen the Lady of Winterfell touch someone so intimately before. 

She wonders where Lady Arya is. If Sam is correct, she was the sibling Jon Snow would talk about the most during their time at the Night’s Watch. It seems she is not here to welcome her cousin home. 

“...queen Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Oh.” Sam mutters. “Oh, no.” No one is kneeling in the courtyard. Isn’t it part of their customs? To kneel? She read that somewhere, she is sure of it. But no one is kneeling when Jon Snow introduces his aunt to the people of Winterfell.

Gilly is confused. Is he no longer king?

Little Sam pulls at his father’s cloak until Sam relents and carries him.

Daenerys Targaryen walks towards Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. Unlike her soldiers, the queen is dressed in thick white furs that surely keep her warm. Gilly feels sorry for the men. 

“Winterfell is yours, your grace.” Sansa Stark’s voice carries in the stillness of the moment. 

Gilly doesn’t believe her. She has seen this woman care for her keep like Gilly herself cares for Little Sam. Daenerys Targaryen seems pleased, though. “Is Winterfell no longer the Starks’? What is going on, Sam?”

Sam continues to look at Jon Snow as he leads his aunt to the inside of Winterfell. “I‘m not sure, Gilly. All I know is this complicates everything.” Gilly and Sam watch  how the dragon queen’s eyes follow Jon Snow everywhere he goes. “Jon, what have you done?”

//

“He’s almost here.” Bran says. “Observe and take in as much as  you can. Go.”

//

The serving girl leaves the godswood behind her. She picks up her drab skirts and makes her way toward the courtyard. The king is come back with a Targaryen. Her curiosity makes her run fast and nimble as she weaves her way through the soldiers and serving folk. 

“Watch it, girl. You near ran me over!”

Anis doesn’t stop. Her hazel eyes drink in everything they can. The horses, the people, the carts. She perched herself atop a stack of empty vegetable crates to get a better view. She anxiously awaits for a sign of dragons in the overcast sky. The Lannister imp is here, as is a bald plump man.

Varys. His name is Varys. 

Anis has never met them before. But names are easy to come by. She notices the soldiers are well trained. Even in their poorly made winter garb they show no signs of discomfort. 

That must be the Unsullied. 

There is another kind of soldier in the courtyard. They are quite different and seem to be faring worse than the Unsullied. Dothraki. They are speaking a strange mixture of the common tongue and a language Anis has never heard before. Nevertheless, she listens and understands a few phrases.

“Cold...Khalessi...Snow”

“...Gold...lions...burn”

“...food...food...food...”

Anis turns her attention towards the king. He has finally returned to Winterfell. 

He’s finally here. Will he recognize me after all these years? Do I want him to recognize me?

Anis pushes these strange thoughts away. She is a simple serving girl. She has no ties to the king. She is only here to watch and observe. And so she does.