#zcldrizcs

The news of the White Walkers was no surprise to Jojen; he’d seen the creatures on his own some time before and barely escaped with his life. He had missed the summit and the ‘grand’ unveiling but he had arrived now and immediately assured King Robb of his loyalty. Now he believed it only prudent to introduce himself to those allied with his king; namely: Queen Daenerys.

He found her towards the cliffs of Dragonstone and while he could hear cries oh the like he’d never heard before he did not see any of the Queen’s fabled dragons on his way. He introduced himself to a servant who carried his message forward and he waited to see whether or not he’d been seen, his answer came and he continued forward, his piercing green gaze finding the Mother of Dragons. 

He bowed deeply, as her position demanded, and held the pose for several moments before rising, “Your Grace, it is an honour and a privilege to meet you.” he said softly, once more staring intently at her, “I am Jojen Reed, oh House Reed, loyal to House Stark and therefore loyal to you in the union of your forces.”

The new threat hanging over their heads was certainly reason enough to begin forming bonds with those that would otherwise be unthinkable. For the North, it was a Targaryen Queen from across the seas. Frankly, Kyra had always heard stories about the Targaryens. More importantly, about their dragons. She read and heard how wild those creatures were, how they were so big that standing at full height, the tallest man in Westeros barely reached the shoulder of the smallest dragons legs. She read about how their wings could be heard beating against the wind for nearly a day before their appearance would be made. Those creatures fascinated her; weapons of mass destruction and yet they were capable of being tamed and domesticated by someone. As a child, she would compare herself to dragons. Despite it not being her houses animal, despite not being remotely close to being of Targaryen descent, she thought herself much similar to these giant beasts. Wild, untamable, dangerous, and yet... Someone out there could tame them just enough. Just enough for them to be comfortable, to feel love, to be sated until provoked until it chose to release its power.

When word of Daenerys, Mother of Dragons, Queen, reached her ears first Kyra thought it to be a myth. Dragons no longer existed, they had been wiped out long before her little self had come to be a part of this world. And yet - that whole family had also been thought to be wiped out. It was like a story, reasonable and ironic that two myths would return to Westeros, together, at the same time. But it excited her nonetheless. She found herself eager for an excuse to meet the Queen, to be blessed with the opportunity to see these majestic creatures that reminded her so desperately of herself, in person.

“I am scared to say hello again. I don’t want another goodbye.”

The words are quiet, whispered in the presence of someone who no doubt had known lost more than she did, who had more reason to be hurt when compared to the likes of the trauma that Beth Cassel had suffered. Daenerys had been driven from her home for crimes she did not commit. Was chased by people with murderous intent for things she did not play a part in. Had no doubt been put through hell and back, having been sold to the Dothraki. She had watched people around her die her whole life, or so Beth assumed. The stories of the Queen had been blazing amongst the people in Dragonstone while they had been there, and Beth found it... Admirable that she had suffered such fates and still stood as the Queen who would be... Better for Westeros, better than the Queen who sat upon the throne now, whos only rival was Beth's own King.

Jeyne is surprised, she can admit, at the Dragon Queen’soffer, though she supposes she should expect nothing else. She has heard thatthe Dragon Queen wishes for peace, that she truly wishes to serve the people ofWesteros, even if she could not remember stepping foot on the continent before.

In the weeks at Dragonstone, Jeyne has not spoken much tothe Targaryen contingent, choosing to remain ensconced in the camps of theNorthmen unless she was requested elsewhere. It is strange, she thinks, thatthe young queen can be so small and yet so intimidating.

Against her better judgment, Jeyne is impressed by thestatement, even more than she is impressed by the fact that the Dragon Queen istalking to her. Most women would shake their heads, pleased simply with the offer. Most women would smile but say nothing.

Most women are not Jeyne Westerling, a daughter of theWesterlands who has chosen to follow the King in the North.

Staring at the seemingly crumbling Queen that stood before Kyra, it dawned upon her that not even the hottest blooded people held even heads. This was a woman made of stone and fire, she was half human half dragon, the magic ran in her veins. She brought a legend to life once more, and yet: she had the same fears as a girl like her. Kyra barely viewed herself as a woman. She was basically a child at heart. She hadn't matured yet, hadn't found her footing on this gallop into adulthood, but she was doing her best. She wasn't sure how the Queen expected her to tell her what to do now... But she hoped whatever words she could find would bring some comfort to her.

lips part, eyebrows knitting together, curious eyes rested on the Dragon Queen that had allowed herself to become soft and vulnerable before her. she guessed that it was true that they were allies, Kal would follow her from here on out, if that is what Jon asked of her. but by no means did she expect the Queen to believe it acceptable to let herself lower her barriers in such a personal way. though the words did hit home with the wild woman, her mind drifting to a rough man with the smile of a mischevious boy, with the heart of someone who has never known heartbreak, a man who was strong and powerful and unbearably cocky. a man who she had begun to develop feelings for, but a feeling that she had no right developing. she had only grown used to being someone he had loved, but day bled into night, and she had to release him, so that someone who was capable of loving him the way he was capable of loving them, could snatch him up.

This too shall pass... The words bounced around in her head like a ball; sashaying off the sides of her mind, sinking in deeper and deeper with each hit. The Dragon Mother was right. While it hurts now, and it would hurt later, with time the pain would become a little more bearable. By no means would it lessen, and never would it go away, but the loss of her father would eventually fade into the background. She would become accustomed to a life without him, just as she had with her mother. Even if she had been younger at the time, she had more coping skills now. She had people she could talk to about it, she had ways of managing this guilt and sadness that had wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket. It was hard to admit that there would be a time where this wound did not bleed as desperately as it did now, and yet it was blissfully relieving, knowing that not always would she feel the way she felt now.

"You are... Too wise for your age, My Lady..." The words are but a whisper, the tear-speckled girl looking up to the soft gaze of the Queen that stood before her. Perhaps this Targaryen girl was really, genuinely destined for Royalty. She had a heart of gold; something she had seen in no King or Queen in the past. Her own King was much the same... She wondered if either of these monarchs would continue in this world as sweet as they were now. Her father had once told her that battle makes a man hard. Leading was tiring. Leading was draining. He had said that every boy starts off eager and excited to take on the world, but with time, with every death and every decision, he evolves into a man... She did not want to watch Daenerys morph into anything similar to any of those that had come before her. She prayed, to all of her Gods, to all of the new Gods, to every higher being that would listen, that they would let Daenerys Targaryen keep who she was. Let her belong to herself. Let her not change, let her not harden...

Golden curls with their tinges of silver slipped from proud shoulders as a small lowering of her head is given in rare reverence and respect for the other woman. “You honour me, your grace.”There were few, if any, that the Velaryon would ever consider bowing or lowering herself for when pride and stubbornness ran too strong in her veins to even entertain the idea of such a demonstration for someone she did not deem worthy. Westeros had been devoid of such a person outside of her own family for some time now.  

( Perhaps some would argue that Daenerys Stormborn had yet to truly prove herself in Westeros but her demonstrations of power in Essos were enough to liken her to Valyrians of old )

With her gesture of respect given, Aelena rises again with shoulders squared delicately but proudly and determination ever present in her violet eyes. Though this time there was just a hint of softness to her gaze, encouraged by the slightly smile that rests on her lips. “I trust you know that the feeling is mutual and in time the whole of Westeros will feel the same way about you.”