A Dragon is not a Slave

I am a King

He lowered the paper slowly. "I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead."
"I'm happy for you," said the Queen.
Jon felt lost. Of all the time he'd spent mining the cave on Dragonstone, the last few weeks had been the most distracting. So rarely had he thought of home, or his poor half-sister ruling in his stead that he felt shamed now, seeing her scrawled words on the ravens scroll. It was hard to look at them and the warning they gave knowing he was so far away and relatively safe.
"You don't look happy." Daenerys was watching him but he couldn't bring himself to look her way just yet.
"Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch," he told her, "If they make it past the wall-" he tossed the note aside.
Varys cut in quickly, "But the wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumably-"
"I need to go home." Jon interrupted, his voice tired.
Daenerys pushed back, "You said you don't have enough men."
"We'll fight with the men we have, unless you'll join us?" he flung the same question back to her once more.
"And give the country to Cersei," she flung back the same answer, "As soon as I march away, she marches in."
Jon struggled with the argument that had been plaguing them for months. The barrier between them, invisible but too strong to break. But the thought of her army moving for the North made his head reel. If he were honest with himself, the only way going back to Winterfell without being a failure, would be to bring the Dragon Queen with him. And it was beginning to seem like an impossible dream.
"Perhaps not." Tyrion finally spoke. "Cersei thinks the army of the dead is nothing but a story, made up by wet-nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?"
Jon imagined walking into the other queens court, trying to explain himself. He laughed dryly. "I don't think she'll come see the dead at my invitation."
Tyrion turned and approached him in earnest. "So bring the dead to her."
Jon squinted at him and the Queen said, "I thought that was what we were trying to avoid."
"We don't have to bring the whole army, only one soldier."
"Is that possible?" Ser Davos asked of Jon.
Jon considered it. "The first wight I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the wall."
Tyrion seemed ignited. "Bring one of these things down to Kings Landing and show her the truth."
Jon felt the spark of action stirring in his blood.
"Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience, and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the capital." Varys said, and as he spoke Jon watched them all be thrown by his words.
"The only person she listens to is Jaime," Tyrion spoke again. "he might listen to me."
The Hand looked to his queen who was not yet convinced. "And how would you get into Kings Landing?" she asked.
Tyrion turned slowly to Ser Davos. Jon did as well. A noted smuggler would be perfect in a situation like this. But Ser Davos did not look thrilled. "I can smuggle ye in, but if the gold cloaks were te recognize ye, I'm warning ye, I'm not a fighter."
Tyrion nodded, and looked as though he couldn't believe what he'd just done.
"Well it will all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men." Daenerys pointed out.
"A fair point." said Varys, and glanced at Jon. "How do you propose to find one?"
Jon's mind raced. An audience, in Kings Landing, and a chance for the world to know the truth. For Daenerys to know it, finally. But how far from Eastwatch was the army, and how could they hope to get just one. He studied the map table. The North was far more vast than this piece of furniture allowed.
"With the Queens permission, I' ll go North and take one." said a voice Jon was not used to hearing. Daenerys turned to the gruff knight, Jorah Mormont, looking panicked at his words. "You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you, allow me to serve you." Jorah said softly.
Dany watched the knight with such a mixture of fear and admiration in her face, that it awoke something fierce in Jon's chest. He'd seen the way she greeted the man, up on the cliff, like she was never so happy to see a person. She'd touched him, embraced him.
"The free folk will help us," Jon announced, in an effort to pull her attention away. "They know the North better than anyone."
Ser Davos scoffed, "They won't follow Ser Jorah."
"They won't have to." Jon answered readily.
It had worked. At last the young queen noticed him again. But Daenerys face fell in such dismay that pretty soon Jon couldn't look at it anymore. He had not considered that she was losing something, only to do at least as much as Ser Jorah intended. How could he just let everyone go off and do something, while he did nothing?
"You can't lead a raid," Ser Davos told him, "You aren't in the Nights Watch anymore, you're King in the North!"
Jon turned to his Hand, "I'm the only one here who's fought them. I'm the only one here who knows them."
Suddenly the Queen found her voice, though it was rather shaky. "I haven't given you permission to leave."
Jon heard it, and knew the time to address the invisible wall between them, had come.
"With respect, your Grace. I don't need your permission. I am a king." Her eyes grew ever so slightly, but he pressed on, "I came here, knowing you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you. A stranger. Because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger." She sat very still watching him, breathing shakily. "Because it's our best chance."
It must have been difficult for her, Jon imagined, losing her council one by one, and when she glanced over at Tyrion, the Lannister seemed to say, Trust him. At last, she turned back to Jon and nodded once, by way of release. Then abruptly she pushed back out of her chair and strode to the balcony, and this was her way of dismissing the council meeting. There was a rush of action, as each person suddenly had a task to perform, but Jon was reluctant to leave the young queen, despite how indifferently she turned her back on them.
"We will return, Your Grace." he said.
She didn't turn around. "Will you." she said with no emotion. It was not a question, and it's tone made him aware of how very alone she was, looking out over the sea. For the first time he considered she might have been keeping him there because she wanted to, and not for political reasons. But there was a job to do, and Jon felt alive with sudden purpose. And then, Jorah Mormont, the gruff old knight was near the doorway, ready to comfort the queen, and that realization made Jon stride out of the council chamber at once.
"I don't think I'll ever understand Queens." Jon mentioned to Davos, as he walked down with him to the shore.
Davos laughed, "Women more like, Yer Grace."
"Some women are easier to know then others."
"Aye, but do you really know them, or are they just wantin ye to know them?"
Jon grimaced. That was already too complicated to think about. "She wants action, she wants to fight, but she doesn't want anyone else to at the same time." he complained, in a low tone in case some of those Dothraki brutes were around.
Ser Davos glanced at Jon. "Beggin your pardon, but ye can be rather daft, ye know."
Jon stopped in the path, "Tell me what I am missing then."
"Well now." Davos smiled, as though very pleased to. "Just because she's a queen does not mean she don't have all the same feelings a young girl has. An a boy her age comes waltzin in, spends the better part of three months romancin her, and then sets off again at the first mention of a fight!"
Jon shook his head, amused. "Romancing? Who's romancing?"
"You great oaf."
"Really Davos," Jon began to walk again, to escape the discomfort of what Davos said, "The queen has no feelings for me. How could she? I'm a bastard rebel from the North."
"A King," Davos pressed, "Her age. Unmarried, and attractive, or so I've heard said."
Jon walked on, but troubled.
"Who else is she to match with, huh?" Davos carried on, following Jon down the steps. "The brother of Cersei, the Kingslayer? Someone from Dorne? The old knight Jorah-'
"She never once indicated that she was looking for a King to marry, Davos." Jon said quickly. "Only to bend the knee to her."
"And with what you know of her by now, do you think it likely she would throw away such an alliance. One that was months in the making?"
Jon stopped along the path, and glanced up at the castle. Maybe she was still up there, staring down. He wasn't sure, but if the last time he saw her face had already passed, then he had to admit to himself, that he burned with regret. He wasn't ready to embrace everything Davos was saying to him, because suppose it wasn't true. But then, her face... her eyes were so sad, Jon tried to shake away the image, in vain. I will never forget her face as long as I live, and with where I am about to go, that may not be very long.
"I go now, to the city of my birth." Ser Davos said. "But while I'm gone ye might let yer mind think on these things eh? Before we go off in a boat to the Northern wastes."
"No amount of thinking will change the fact that we need a wight if we're to convince anyone."
Davis scowled, and near to the little boat now, he nodded at Jon. "Farewell then. Gods know why you are so eager to leave this lovely place."
Jon smiled, "Be safe Ser Davos." He walked back to the cave with many things in his mind, and some guilt weighing on his heart, but mostly with excitement to not be waiting for something to happen anymore.