Hollow Crown ↬ Daenerys Targaryen

16

From the time Percival Lannister was a child, the earliest memories he can remember for that matter, he remembers his father speaking fondly about the North. Whether it be the landscapes, the atmosphere or the people - especially one woman - he can't think of a conversation where the man spoke ill of it.

Only Robert Baratheon could lie to his children one more time from the grave.

The bitter and unforgiving cold nips at his skin like a thousand needles poking him hard enough to sting, but soft enough as to not break skin. Only it isn't needles or any other kind of sharp object, it's the fucking wind and he truly doesn't know which instance he would prefer. Well, neither of course, but when has he ever gotten something he truly wants without a price?

A soft breath escapes his lips, one of annoyance accompanied by a shiver. His hands clench the saddle of his horse tightly, fingers running uncomfortably against the leather in an attempt to gain friction. Though the only thing it accomplishes is making his skin raw and red and pissing off his horse to the point it probably wants to shove him off.

There's not a great many things that make Percy want to fling himself from the highest place in sight, but the north definitely sits near the top. Third place to be exact. Right behind his mother - she would be the top if it weren't for Tyrion - and finger snapping. Which, if he catches Tyrion doing one more time he might just fucking combust.

He had thought his emotions were heavily concealed behind a make of calm indifference, as it usually is. But the moment a gloved hand is placed on his shoulder and his eyes meet Daenerys' violet, he feels a flash of guilt for not making more of an effort. The same effort she had been putting in their entire ride.

Another thing that hasn't helped his foul mood ever since their departure from King's Landing. Almost every single village, castle and tavern they've passed for the last two weeks - they've passed more than he can count - has denied them entry. Not because of their numbers, loyalty or any other reason but the silver haired queen who has done nothing but fight for them since she was a child. Not that they care.

It seems, despite having the favor of most houses in the seven kingdoms, that the people of Westeros still hold an unjustified dislike for the woman. Because of her father's previous sins against the country, he assumes, but it could also be the fear of the dragons. A Targaryen hasn't been seen in Westeros in decades, but the feared creatures themselves haven't roamed the skies for centuries.

Of course they had presumed it would take some adjustment. But it still angers him that they would treat the dragon queen in such a way. Considering she's done more for the country without even being in the country than Cersei has her entire reign and her children's before her.

It bothers Daenerys too. She does well to conceal it, better than he does by a long shot, but it still shines through whenever they're rejected. He can see the way her face fights not to flinch, and how her eyes waver from kindness, to hurt, then anger and then nothing. Rejection, he imagines, isn't a familiar feeling to her. At least not when it comes to the people she intends to save and then rule.

He reaches a cold hand upward, internally scolding himself for not properly dressing for the cold, and takes her clothed hand in his. Squeezing softly as to say 'I'm okay', he smiles reassuringly and subtly brings his lips to her wrist, pressing a soft kiss onto the uncovered patch of skin. She returns the sentiment, giving him a short but meaningful glance before facing forward, turning serious once more as they near Winterfell.

The posture of a Queen, he thinks and smiles small, nerves temporarily eased. Which doesn't last when they reach the village.

Panic is the only word he could find to describe the residents of Winterfell. They scramble about while shouting and glancing frequently at the army of Dothraki and Unsullied with fear clear on their gazes. The dragons arrival doesn't help either, only succeeding in making their screams of fear louder.