jorah’s words make her smile, as he voices something she had forgotten for a moment. all these years, she has run towards this moment, this place she had always imagined was her home. on her way, she had made so many other places her home simply by the people she surrounded herself with and the atmosphere she created. she would do the same here, in king’s landing and the seven kingdoms. she would change this place and make it her own. it no longer belongs to the lannisters, the baratheons or even her targaryen ancestors. it is hers now and she make it into something beautiful.
a laugh escapes her and she watches him tear down banner after banner. soon, dragons will grace these halls again. at his apology, she waves her hand. “no offense taken, ser jorah. you are not wrong.” her gaze drifts to the iron throne as it stands, lonely and empty across the room. “perhaps in time, but not yet. i have fought for that throne for so long. the very seat of power my ancestors forged to rule their kingdoms from. it has been a symbol of cruelty and tyranny for a long time but i cannot bring myself to remove it.” hands clasp in front of her as she finds her friend’s gaze again. “i will make it into a symbol of justice and kindness. and if it cuts me, so be it. it will serve as a reminder of the suffering and injustice i must combat. i have endured worse than an uncomfortable seat.”
Her laughter echoed down the halls, filling the throne room with something it had sorely lacked for several years. As always, his Queen showed him a wisdom that was blind to. It was her way, and he was humbled by it each time. “This country doesn’t deserve you, Daenerys Targaryen,” he told her, his voice deepening. “I hope, before you pass from this world at a very ripe old age, it may be closer to being worthy of you.”
Wrapping the banners over his shoulder, he glanced back at the throne. Perhaps a blanket, at least, he could drape along the seat. Looking back at her, his gaze lightened. “I know some parts of the city may need rebuilding, but I would advise a much-needed feast. For all. Set work aside for a day or two. Embrace this moment.”
If he knew anything about ruling, and his own experience was minuscule compared to that of royalty, it was that the job made one grow old very quickly. “What would you like done to these?” he asked, nodding his head to the banners. He had a mind to burn them, but he didn’t wish to act unless she desired something else.
“And . . . if I may . . . a small request,” he hesitated for a moment, “I ask that you allow me to be the first to kneel before you when you take your seat . . . and swear fealty.” True, he had sworn it before, but this was an official swearing in the palace that now belonged to her. In the country that was now hers.
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