"I should be there." Tyrion said watching Missandei adjust Daenerys' hair while she looked over her attire.
"This is a private matter," said Daenerys.
"It's a matter of state when it concerns your possible marriage," said Tyrion. "You're not some thatcher's daughter that can run off to wed whoever she pleases."
"I doubt Lady Sansa will feel comfortable discussing her new marriage with her previous husband there."
Tyrion snorted.
Once Missandei finished, Daenerys turned to him. "Do you think I'll be tricked?"
"No, they're not the sort." Tyrion paused. "Well, Jon isn't."
Daenerys nodded. "I need to speak with them alone to know how we work. Should we decide to wed I doubt you'll be there every time we're together."
"If not for Jon I wouldn't mind if I was," Tyrion said with a laugh. He quickly looked away when both women shot him a glare. "I mean to say you'll surely make a lovely match."
"Of course," she said drolly. Daenerys exited the room and made her way through the halls, finding the door to Jon's solar open.
He was stood beside his desk looking over letters while Sansa looked out the window. "Are you nervous?"
"No," he answered quickly. "If this doesn't work she's not going to hate us or slaughter us. We'll find a way to work it out."
"That's optimistic." They turned to find Daenerys standing in the doorway with a smirk. "And I feared I imagined you less dour than I first thought."
"I have my moments," Jon offered, setting the letters down.
"Would you like something to drink? Wine?" Sansa asked moving to a table with two pitchers and three glasses.
"Wine," she said with a nod, hoping it would ease things.
Jon closed the door while she walked inside. "I suppose congratulations are due for your victory against the Lannisters."
"Yes, we won, but…" She hesitated before saying, "They had a weapon that hurt Drogon."
"Is he okay?" asked Sansa, handing her a glass before going back to pour one for herself.
"It reminded me of those stories about Rhaenys in Dorne." She sighed. "I thought I'd die there and never be seen again."
"You think she died?" Jon asked walking over to a small table set up beside the hearth with three chairs. "I always thought the letter Aegon got was telling him they had her and did something to her. That he ended the war with Dorne to make them stop."
"I remember hearing Aegon took his son with him to Sunspear and hoping it was to meet her," Sansa said with a somber smile as she sat at the table.
"That does sound like you," Jon smiled, turning to Daenerys. "Either way, it seems you did well in your first battle in Westeros."
"Thank you, but… I don't know that it went well in the end. Tyrion is upset because I had to kill men who wouldn't bend the knee." She sighed. "I can't imagine how anyone could think to be loyal to that mad woman."
"I'm sure they were made promises and told whatever it was they always wanted to hear about themselves and everyone they hate." Sansa shook her head in disgust. "Assuming she wasn't just sleeping with them."
"I thought she loved her brother?"
"She once told me tears aren't a woman's only weapon, their best lay between her legs," said Sansa. "It's not as if she hadn't used it on others."
Daenerys nodded. "She sounds like a true lady."
"Mm." Sansa looked to their right and saw Jon sat with a smirk, watching them speak.
Daenerys noticed and chuckled. "And how have things gone here?"
"Well." Jon nodded. "Riverrun seems ready to defend itself so the men we had there have left. Arianne Martell has rallied the Dornish for us and Garlan Tyrell has those remaining loyal to him gathering."
Daenerys sat up. "You've retaken Dorne and the Reach?"
"As much as is left of them," said Sansa. "Dorne lost men in a brief civil war after the Sand Snakes took power. Most of the Reach was picked away with every war over the last few years. Every kingdom's barely what they were only years ago."
"And the North?"
"Bracing itself," said Jon. "The Night King is nearing Eastwatch on the Wall."
"How long until he reaches it?"
"Weeks?" Sansa shrugged. "They move slowly, but they never seem to stop."
Daenerys nodded, putting down her glass and looking to them after crossing her legs. "Do you plan to focus there?"
"We haven't decided," Jon said sitting back.
"Cersei sent us a lie, but she knows we know that because Jaime Lannister left after he told her he was coming North." Sansa shook her head at the confusing situation. "She'll know he told us. I doubt she'll even pretend to honor the armistice we suggested."
"I think our best option would be trying to maintain your blockade on King's Landing with Manderly ships added to your fleet. Man Moat Cailin as much as we can, and then pull everyone north except for small groups in key locations so that when we start to move south we'll have inroads."
Daenerys arched her brow and Sansa wore a smile.
"As much as I want her dealt with, we can't leave our backs open to the Night King. I don't trust the Wall to keep him out. I don't know how, but I know that if we leave him there the Wall will fall."
Daenerys looked from Jon to Sansa before nodding. "I'd agree to that. I can send some men to support those in the south and Moat Cailin. Let them send whoever they can North."
"Thank you," Jon said with a nod.
There was a moment of silence as they looked to one another. It was Sansa who broke it with a smile. "It seems that leaves us."
"That it does," Daenerys nodded, turning to Sansa. "Is it true you suggested he take us both?"
Sansa nodded. "I did. I know it's been done before, Targaryens with multiple wives. I know it's not exactly ideal but neither of us wants to give up what we have, but we're willing to compromise."
"Compromise," Daeneryes repeated.
"We'd be equal," said Jon. "Supporting one another."
Daenerys looked between the two before nodding. "And the wedding? Would it be together or one after the other?" Seeing their glance, she remembered their histories and smirked. "I forgot, you're both virgins, aren't you?"
"I am," Sansa nodded.
After a moment, Daenerys turned to Jon, her brow raising. "You're not? I thought you were a man of the Night's Watch?"
"I pretended to betray them and traveled with wildlings for a time," he explained. "I grew to care for a spear wive and she took me to bed."
Daenerys snickered. "I suppose it would be easiest for Sansa with just you."
"So one at a time?" asked Jon.
Sansa shook her head. "I don't want to have us hold two feast. Not with Winter here."
"You need not bed me our first night," Daenerys said with solemn smile. "You know I'm no maid."
Jon sighed. "I never thought a war would be easier to plan than my wedding."
They chuckled, Sansa taking a swig of wine before looking to Jon. "We don't have to wait."
Jon turned to her. "Sansa, I-"
"I don't want to," she said firmly.
"I'd rather not have it be planned just to avoid that night."
"Then we won't. It's not as though we're to wed tomorrow." She looked to Daenerys. "If you do agree to this, I'd suggest we come to know one another before making a final decision. We can wed before we ride to war, or even as we march if need be."
Daenerys nodded. "That's fair. Let things happen as they will, so there's no pressure come the bedding."
"I don't want a bedding," Jon said firmly.
They looked to him, surprised. "I doubt you need to be shy," teased Daenerys.
"It's not-" Jon sighed.
"If it's because of me," Sansa said leaning forward to look at him, "you don't need to worry. It's different. It's not like that time in King's Landing or with Joffrey. I'll be fine."
Daenerys stared at Sansa, frowning as she thought of all Tyrion had told her. How she'd been stripped by Joffrey's Kingsguard, how she'd nearly been raped during a riot.
"It's not that," Jon assured. "I just don't want…" He sighed, crossing his arms. "I thought as a way to mix traditions we'd have whatever wedding we decide on, but then I'd steal you. Both of you."
Daenerys blinked. "Steal us?"
Sansa rolled her eyes. "It's a free folk thing. Their marriages happen when a man steals a woman."
"That sounds awful."
"It's not," said Jon. "They fight back if they don't want it."
"That doesn't sound much better."
Sansa smiled. "I know why you want to steal us." Both looked to her as she turned to Jon. "You don't want people touching us."
"No, I don't," he admitted. "But I also think it'll show the free folk we're open to accepting their traditions instead of just asking them to conform to ours."
Sansa grinned. "You really don't want them touching us."
Daenerys snickered. "It doesn't seem very kingly."
"To not want anyone but me touching my wives?" Jon asked with a snort. "I'd want the same from anyone. I…" The heat in him faded as he shook his head. "I'm not being fair am I?"
Daenerys glanced at Sansa, who seemed as confused as she did. "What do you mean?"
"I'll have both of you and you'll only have me."
It took a moment for them to realize what he meant. Sansa frowned, reaching for his hand while Daenerys shook her head. "That's not necessarily true." When they looked to her she smirked to Sansa, whose brow rose as her cheeks grew rosy.
"Oh."
Daenerys's smirk faded as she looked to Jon. "I have yet to stray from a lover," she said carefully, "if that's what worries you."
"And I would never," said Sansa, with a quick glance to Daenerys.
With a somber smile, Daenerys took a breath. "If we're going to go through with this, you both need to understand… You two would be the ones to continue the Targaryen name."
Sansa quickly realized what she meant and frowned. "I'm so sorry."
"My dragons are my children," said Daenerys. "They're the only ones I'll ever have."
"And who told you that?" asked Jon.
"The witch who murdered my husband."
Jon glanced to Sansa. "Has it occurred to you she might not be a reliable source of information?"
Daenerys smiled with a small laugh.
Sansa offered a smile her own. "I'd say there's no harm in trying."
The sun died and sky bled crimson flakes that drowned men in shadows, golden cities and chained towers.
The Children of the Forest found him laying in the crimson snow, looking to the hole in his stomach that had let him leak. Reaching into her skirts, she removed a shard of shimmering obsidian which she drove into his chest.
The dead Stark's eyes opened and he sat up, his skin pale and hands black with pooled blood while not taking a breath, he never would again. The dead didn't need to breath.
"What is dead my never die," Euron whispered as he sat in his chambers, letting his tongue brush against his pale blue lips as he carved into a large, scaled horn resting in his lap