A Song of Fire & Snow (GOT)(Jon Snow)

Chapter 17: Alarys

~The Dragon Queen~

Alarys walked through the grand halls of Dragonstone, her footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone. The tension was palpable. As they approached the throne room, her gaze flickered toward Jon. His jaw was clenched, the weight of his responsibility as King in the North bearing down heavily on him. To her left, Ser Davos was silent but alert, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the fortress.

Her thoughts, however, were racing in a different direction. Daenerys Targaryen. The Dragon Queen. There was something about her that tugged at Alarys's instincts—an arrogance hidden behind her titles and proclamations. Alarys knew royalty, knew the burden of leadership and the cost of ruling, but this woman seemed to believe herself destined for greatness, as if it were a birthright and not something earned. Alarys could already sense they wouldn't get along.

The towering doors of the throne room swung open, revealing Daenerys seated upon her throne. Behind her stood her advisors, including Tyrion Lannister who joined their ranks as soon as the door opened. He stepped forward, his voice carrying the formal introductions.

"Presenting Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains."

Alarys rolled her eyes slightly at the endless string of titles. She wasn't impressed by grandiose claims; actions, she knew, spoke louder than any words.

Ser Davos, ever practical, introduced Jon simply. "This is Jon Snow, King in the North."

There was no flourish, no lengthy list of titles, just the truth. Alarys couldn't help but admire the simplicity. Jon had earned the loyalty of his people not through conquest but by leading them through hardship.

Daenerys tilted her head, her violet eyes studying Jon with intensity. Before anyone else could speak, Alarys stepped forward, inclining her head slightly and speaking in High Valyrian. "Issa Alarys Martell, Dorne vaorezyr."

Daenerys blinked, her surprise evident as her brows lifted. Missandei, standing nearby, also looked taken aback. "You speak Valyrian," Daenerys said, her tone more curious than anything else.

Alarys gave a small smile. "I had many tutors growing up, though few were as skilled as your own, I'm sure." The words were polite, but Alarys made sure they carried a subtle edge. She wasn't here to flatter this self-proclaimed queen.

Daenerys nodded slowly, her attention shifting back to Jon. "You've traveled far, King in the North, but I must insist that you are not a king." She leaned forward, her voice cool. "You are a lord, as all Starks have been since Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror."

Davos tensed beside Jon, but Jon kept his expression neutral. "And yet," Davos began, "Jon Snow was crowned King in the North by his own people."

Daenerys didn't even look at him as she replied, "There has been no king in the North since Torrhen Stark swore fealty to my ancestor. An oath, once sworn, lasts for perpetuity."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, and Alarys felt the shift in the room. Daenerys was pushing, testing the limits. Jon's face remained unreadable, but there was a fire behind his eyes as he spoke. "I did not come here to bend the knee."

Daenerys's expression darkened. "Then why did you come?"

"I came to ask for your help," Jon replied firmly. "There's a threat greater than any of us—an army of the dead, marching south. If we don't unite, we'll all die."

Daenerys's eyes narrowed, skepticism lacing her words. "The dead? You expect me to believe in fairy tales?"

Before Jon could respond, Alarys spoke, her voice sharp. "Your father, the Mad King, burned Jon's grandfather and uncle alive. And yet, you expect him to pledge loyalty to the house that slaughtered his family?" Her words hung in the air like a blade, cutting through the tension.